“I love you.”
He pulled out almost fully, then slid back in—slowly—full-length this time, which was almost my undoing. Oh God yes. I twined my fingers in his hair and arched toward him as he repeated the movement, his arm wrapped around my middle, holding me fixed to him, gliding in and out of me leisurely, as if we had all the time in the world. Each time he entered me, he plunged just a little harder, a little faster, picking up the pace ever so slightly until he was rocking against me in an unhurried, steady rhythm, a never-ending slow-dance that threatened to completely shatter my heart.
This man in my arms. This beautiful man who was capable of beautiful things, in as well as out of the bedroom. The exquisiteness of his touch, the weight of his words, the tender care he took to make me feel loved, cherished… unbelievably turned on. It was too much emotion. Bittersweet and wonderful, being in the bed of the man I loved deep down to my core; my heart, my soul. The man I had loved—and would continue to love—forever.
Trip’s voice cracked on a rough whisper. “Open your eyes.”
When I did, I saw him looking into my eyes, heavy-lidded, full of adoration and wanting. Making sure I knew he was with me. Only me.
“I love you, Lay.”
His words brought the fresh sting of tears, and my eyes began to leak even as my heart swelled.
“Hey… hey, why are you crying?” He gave a little chuckle in understanding, swiping the moisture from my cheeks and saying, “It’s okay, babe. We’re okay now.”
It was hard to believe, even though I knew he was right. It was just that we had a million unsaid things between us, a million hurts to heal. It was scary to think that our chance for happiness could be ruined again by misunderstandings. I didn’t think I’d survive if things didn’t work out for us this time.
Jeebus. I needed to turn my brain off. Why was I allowing myself to worry about tomorrow and the unlikely demise of us when I finally had him exactly where I wanted right then?
“Trip?” I said through tear-blurred eyes. “I’m just so happy right now.”
That made him laugh. “You sure have a weird way of showing it, babe.” He lowered his mouth toward mine again. “Luckily, I know the right way.”
His kiss was sweet, but heated, his lips brushing against mine in waves. I felt the current stirring, this beautiful man holding my gaze locked to his, his incredible body rocking against mine, bringing me right to the edge of the cliff, willing me to fall.
I allowed the electric charges to overtake me, looking right into his face for as long as I could, until I came, unashamed, the tears slinking from my eyes and down my cheeks. It made a small smile appear across his gorgeous face as he quickened his pace to match the tremors cascading along my insides, finally growling into the air as his every muscle tensed and his movements stilled.
He collapsed on top of my body, still joined with me, and rolled us to our sides, the both of us breathless. I thought it would be nice to stay like that for a few days, just lounge around with him inside me indefinitely, but I guessed it would’ve been kinda hard to do stuff like drive a car or go to the bathroom. But for now, it was nice.
It was insane to think it had been so many years since we’d done this. At least I knew it wouldn’t be another fourteen years before the next time. How did we survive without each other all that time? We were always meant to be together. Always would be.
Trip felt it, too. He was actually tearing up himself as he said, “My God, every time, it never fails. You happen to me all over again.” He swiped a palm across my cheek and added, “I never stopped loving you, Lay. You were always with me. Everywhere.”
*
We did a quick cleanup in his bathroom and got dressed again. My heart always broke a little whenever I had to watch Trip put his clothes back on. It was just such a crying shame.
He grabbed my hand and led me around the hall, pointing out the framed pictures from his life. I may have been biased, but Trip was absolutely the most adorable little boy you’d ever want to see in your life. His hair was a much lighter shade of blond, and he looked like a filthy mess in most of the shots. Too freaking cute.
I was laughing about that when I turned to see Trip staring at a framed portrait of his father. He had his hands jammed into his pockets and was shooting daggers at the image of the man whose life was being celebrated downstairs.
“Trip?” I asked warily. He was wound too tightly, a mousetrap that could snap with the slightest provocation. I didn’t want to set him off.