Page 103 of Lotus

We both start spinning, drowning, our bodies crashing together, flesh against flesh, and we aren’t quiet—at all.

One hand fisting his hair, the other clutching the bedpost for leverage, I ride him hard, fast, and unrelenting. His face is buried between my breasts, stifling his moans, as the headboard slams into the wall over and over again.

Oliver’s hand slides up my spine, landing in my sweat-soaked hair, and he lifts his chin to find me amidst this poetic mayhem. He wants to make sure I’m still here—that I’mwithhim.

And I am, I am, I am.

“Tell me again,” he chokes out, mustering a breath amongst our thrusts and moans, skin slicked, air scarce. “Please.”

Eyes joined in a poignant clutch, I already know what he’s asking for. I know exactly what he wants to hear, and I say the words without hesitation, without a single second thought. “I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

Oliver crushes his mouth to mine, as if he’s trying to inhale those words, suck them down, so they live inside of him forever—so he’s never lonely again. My hips slow, just a bit, our tongues moving in time with languid strokes. I feel the sparks igniting in my core, begging to burst, and it’s at that moment Oliver pulls back from my mouth, his eyes closed tight.

“Syd, I… I want you to…” He squeezes me, one hand clasping my hipbone, the other knotted in my hair. “I’m not certain how much longer I can…”

“Me, too.” I grind my pelvis into him, bringing myself closer, both of our bodies shuddering, right on the edge. It’s when he tugs me down and buries his face into my neck, nicking and sucking, hardly hanging on, I shatter. “God, Oliver…”

My shameless moaning stimulates his own release, and Oliver tenses up, pulsating inside me, clutching me as close as he possibly can. His throaty groan meets the curve of my neck, and I tug his hair between my fingers, holding on while I buck against him, riding out the waves of ecstasy.

We come down at the same time, breathless. Hearts beating fast, lungs burning, limbs weightless. I soften my grip on his curls, sweeping my fingers through the damp strands and kissing the top of his head. As we process our feelings, thoughts, the heavy weight of our lovemaking, I inch back to find his eyes.

They are glazed over, burning bright, and smiling into mine.

“I love you, Oliver Lynch.”

I say his name, I say it loud and clear, because heisreal—heissomeone.

He is everything to me.

T W E N T Y – F O U R

WHEN THE SUN TICKLES MY EYELIDSthe following morning, I’m startled to find myself in bed, entangled with another warm body. I nuzzle closer, my lips grazing against champagne hair smelling of orchids and springtime, blending with the heady musk of sweat and…me.

Blinking, my body stirs to life, my senses firing as memories flood me.

Sydney.

My arm is draped around her middle, her skin exposed and bathed in a sparkling sunbeam leaking in through the curtains. One of my legs is caught between hers, her backside pressed into my pelvis, her left hand cradling mine as the other rests beneath her cheek. We are perfectly entwined, content, and connected on a wavelength that surpasses physicality.

I can’t believe I had sex.

I can’t believe I had sex withher—this beautiful woman, vivacious and free. She gave herself to me, mind, body, and soul. She told me she loved me.

Sydneylovesme.

And I love her, so entirely, so painfully… I always have. I tell her in the way I hold her, in the way I look at her, in the way I say her name. She is my favorite part of me.

Not wanting to rouse her as she sleeps so peacefully, I carefully unravel myself and slip from the bed undetected. Before I step out to make her breakfast, I lift the bedsheet over her slumbering form, covering her, my skin warming as I think back to the prior evening.

The words said, the way she felt, the love we made.

After freshening up, Sydney climbed back into bed beside me in only her underwear, her breasts flush with my chest, making it very difficult to fall back to sleep. All I wanted to do was explore her, revisit every curve of her body, every moan that slipped from between her lips.

But she dozed off instantly, having never looked so content. Her head was perched within the crook of my shoulder, her steady puffs of breath a solace to my heart, and I know it was a night I will not soon forget.

It was the best night of my life.

Pacing softly from the bedroom, I close the door with caution and venture into the kitchen to prepare Sydney breakfast. I don’t have much to offer in terms of spoiling her, but I know she enjoys my cooking. When I approach the refrigerator to peruse the ingredients on hand, I sense a presence from behind me.

---