Page 81 of Our Final Encore

We can live out this dream of blissful love.

This quiet domestic life.

Tears swell in my eyes as I swallow down my intense emotions. “You wrote that?”

He looks over at me and chuckles. “Yeah, why?”

“Wow,” I whisper as I shake my head.

“You like it?”

My eyes dip to his pillowy lips, a small smirk planted on them. When our eyes meet again, his are dark and heavy-lidded, but simultaneously cautious and reserved.

Fuck it.

I reach my hand out and pull his chin towards me until our lips meet, and a slight moan leaves his throat, the sound sending shockwaves through my core. His lips move softly over mine as one of his hands finds the back of my head, weaving through my hair and pulling me closer against him.

“Hold on,” he whispers, pulling away from me as he sets his guitar on the floor on the other side of him. He tucks one arm under my legs and the other around my back and hoists me into the air, carrying me until he softly lays me down on the bed, his lips still pressed against mine.

“Is this alright?” he whispers, pulling away slightly to gauge my response.

“Yeah,” I nod.

FORTY-NINE

Alex

My mouth melds to hers, and my body turns to fire beneath her touch. I need more. Nothing is ever enough with her, and I don’t think it ever will be. My cock strains against my jeans as my hands wander over her soft skin.

I’ve tried not to push her, resisted every time I felt like grabbing her by the waist and kissing her, which was often. I wanted to wait until it was her idea, even if I didn’t know if she’d ever want to do this again.

My fingers trace over her stomach, over her hip, and down her thigh until I can feel her wetness through the thin material of her sleep shorts. I inhale sharply as I start to rub gentle circles over her most sensitive spot, and she moans loudly against my lips.

Pulling away for a second, I see the same hunger in her eyes that mirrors mine. I reach my fingers into the top of her shorts, tugging them down lightly.

“Wait,” she quickly pulls the comforter out from underneath us and covers the lower half of her body with it, and now I’m worried I’ve done something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows furrowed.

Her cheeks are tinged red and a frown is etched on her perfect, puffy lips. “I just don’t like it. I don’t want you to see it.”

My brow arches because I’m not quite sure what she means. “Your bump?”

She nods.

I softly lay my hand over her stomach through the blanket. “Why?”

“My stretch marks.” Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. “I hate the way they look.”

My heart drops and my chest starts to ache at the sound of her words. Opal has always felt like this about her body. Even when we were young she’d pick out small little details that she perceived as flaws, and would worry about them excessively. I remember her obsessively tweezing her eyebrows for hours when we were in seventh grade.

At the time I thought it was just what girls did. Now, I realize there was a larger problem at play.

“Opal, look at me.” She peeks over but quickly flicks her eyes to the other side of the room again. “Your body is beautiful, it always has been. But now it’s carrying our baby, and that makes it even more amazing. You shouldn’t ever be ashamed of it, especially around me.”

Her eyes meet mine, and a tiny grin pulls at one side of her mouth before disappearing again.

“I’m serious. I love everything about your body. I always have and I always will, no matter how much it may change.” Her eyes darken just a touch, transforming into a sea of cobalt. I move a piece of hair that’s fallen in her face and tuck it behind her ear. “Do you believe me?”

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