Chapter 38 #3
“Try again.”
I pressed.
This time his body opened.
The first inch entered.
Noah’s breath broke.
I froze.
“Pain?”
“Two.”
“Sharp?”
“No.”
“Stay or withdraw?”
“Stay.”
I remained completely still.
His muscles tightened around me.
Then, gradually, began to release.
“More,” he whispered.
I moved deeper by a fraction.
Paused.
He breathed.
“More.”
Another fraction.
Another pause.
Every instinct in my body urged me to close the distance between us.
Love made me wait each time.
Noah’s breathing turned rough.
“Too much?”
“No.”
His hand squeezed mine.
“I can feel all of you.”
“Not all yet.”
“Keep going.”
I entered him slowly until there was no space left between our bodies.
The sensation overwhelmed me.
Heat.
Pressure.
The intimate hold of him.
A body I knew and was discovering again.
Noah trembled in my arms.
Neither of us moved.
I pressed my mouth to his shoulder.
“Color?”
“Green.”
“Pain?”
“Two.”
“Fear?”
He took time to answer.
“Not fear.”
“What is it?”
“Grief.”
My chest tightened around the word.
“Do you want me to pull out?”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“I missed this without knowing there was something to miss.”
I wrapped both arms around him.
“We have it now.”
He cried without sound for several breaths.
I remained inside him, unmoving, holding him while sorrow and desire filled the same quiet space.
Noah turned his head enough for me to kiss him.
His tears salted the kiss.
When it ended, he moved his hips experimentally.
Pleasure struck so sharply that my breath caught.
“Was that all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
He repeated the movement.
This time I followed.
A slow rhythm began between us.
Nothing that took control from him.
Nothing faster than his body could manage.
I moved with him, one hand spread over his heart, the other steady at his hip.
A low sound escaped Noah.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
I drew back carefully and returned.
His body received me more easily.
The next movement pulled another sound from him.
Then another.
He reached down.
I caught his hand gently.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
I closed my fingers around him while I continued moving inside him.
Noah’s head fell back against my shoulder.
His eye closed.
“Look at me,” I murmured.
He turned his face.
Our mouths met.
His pleasure built quickly. I felt it in the tightening around me, the tremor in his thigh, the way his kiss lost rhythm.
“Cal.”
“I’m here.”
“Deeper.”
I adjusted the angle with care.
The next slow stroke reached him differently.
Noah cried out.
I stopped at once.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
I repeated it.
Slow.
Deep.
Controlled.
His fingers dug into my arm.
The pressure of his body around mine became almost impossible to withstand.
“I’m close,” I warned.
“Not yet.”
I slowed.
Noah breathed hard.
“Can you wait?”
“Yes.”
It was not quite true.
I could try.
He moved against me.
My control frayed.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Keep touching me.”
I did.
“Keep moving.”
I did.
“Don’t leave.”
“Never.”
His entire body tightened.
“Now,” he gasped. “Cal, now.”
I held him close as release took me.
The room narrowed to Noah—his breath, his body, his hand locked with mine. I stayed pressed against him, trembling through the force of it, careful even when control became difficult.
Noah made a sound of wonder.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He pressed back against me.
“Stay.”
“I’m here.”
I remained inside him while my body gradually softened.
My hand continued moving over him.
His breathing turned desperate.
“Can you feel me?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you want more?”
“Yes.”
I held him against my chest and followed the rhythm his body asked for.
His climax came suddenly.
He cried my name and shook in my arms, safely supported between my body and the mattress.
I stayed with him through every tremor.
When it ended, he sagged against me.
Neither of us moved.
Rain whispered against the windows in the quiet.
His heartbeat gradually slowed beneath my palm.
After several minutes, I asked, “Pain?”
“Two.”
“Head?”
“One.”
“Fear?”
“No.”
“Regret?”
A soft laugh escaped him.
“None.”
I smiled against his neck.
He shifted slightly, and the movement changed the pressure between us.
A small sound escaped him.
“Do you want me to move away?”
“Not yet.”
“You may be sore.”
“I already consider it worthwhile.”
I stayed until fatigue began to tighten his muscles.
Then I withdrew carefully.
Noah made a quiet sound of protest but did not ask me to stop.
I cleaned him gently, checking for any sign of pain or distress. I brought him water.
He drank half the glass and reached for me.
I lay down beside him.
His face settled against my chest.
“Was it like before?” he asked.
“No.”
His eye opened.
“Was it bad?”
“Not remotely.”
“Then what was different?”
I stroked his hair away from his forehead.
“Before, we knew one another so well that we stopped noticing every turn.”
He listened.
“Tonight, every inch mattered.”
His hand moved over my heart.
“Was it better?”
“Not better.”
I kissed his forehead.
“Ours.”
His eyes filled.
“Ours,” he repeated.
He fell asleep before I finished replacing the towel beneath us.
I held him through the night.