Page 23 of Absolution

“We’re a good team,” I say softly.

Kyle smiles. “The best one I’ve ever been on.”

Kyle’s hand is warm in mine. I can feel the callus on his thumb, the ridges of his knuckle where he jams it nervously against the steering wheel or the kitchen counter. We haven’t touched this way in weeks, not really. Not since the hospital, not since Levi turned blue and the world became a tunnel with nothing at the end but monitors and beeping and the endless rock salt flavour of waiting.

He leans in, just a slow drift, not even a question in it. His lips brush my forehead, then the side of my mouth, and my chest folds in on itself, a paper lantern around a candle. I turn and kiss him, and I feel him sigh into it.

I had forgotten about the scar above his lip until I taste it, and then I remember the summer he chipped his tooth on the pool deck, horsing around with the girls.

My tongue finds the old seam, that texture made familiar in another life, and Kyle inhales through his nose, a shaky, careful sound. I feel myself grinning against his mouth, but this time there’s enough room in my chest to mean it.

His hand slides from my waist, palm trailing the outside of my thigh, until he’s got my knee wedged between his. We’re just a tangle of limbs and old pyjamas, but the friction is new, the urgency crawling up my spine like I’m twenty again and we don’t have a sick kid in the next room, or a world that could cave in on us with a single phone call. I reach under his t-shirt, feel the warmth of his skin, the sharp ridge of his stomach. He flinches just a little when my thumb traces the line of his lowest rib.

Kyle traces the line of my jaw with his thumb and then kisses me again, slow and careful, as if I might break. I taste saltand something sweet, maybe the strawberries we shared in the kitchen, after Levi finally drifted off. My mouth tingles with it.

Kyle slides his hand up to my cheek. “You’re shivering,” he says, voice barely audible.

“I’m not,” I protest.

"You are," he insists fiercely, shifting above me, his weight anchored on one elbow. I can almost feel the tension in his mind, anxiety winding through his thoughts before they settle into a fervent warmth, a moment suspended in time where it's just us. His mouth descends on my neck, trailing fire down to my collarbone.

The heat of his mouth sears through my shirt as he peppers kisses over my clothed body. With a swift motion, he yanks the fabric up, bunching it around my neck. He dives down to tease one nipple, flicking it with his tongue before moving on to the other, this time biting just enough to send a shiver of sensation deep within me.

"Please," I whisper, writhing in the sheets, craving more.

Kyle moves with purpose, his body sliding lower. His lips caress the stretch marks, reverent, as his hands grip the fabric over my hips, tearing them down with urgency. Before I can react, his hands are back between my legs. His fingers find my clit, and he groans with satisfaction as they glide over my wetness.

His tongue soon replaces his fingers, delivering a long, appreciative lick before he sucks on my sensitive bundle of nerves. My back arches off the bed, teeth sinking into my hand to stifle a scream as he sends me spiralling into a powerful climax within moments. The orgasm stretches on, unending, until Kyle climbs back up my body, his lips glistening with my essence. I taste myself as I kiss him fiercely, spreading my legs inanticipation. I bite down on his shoulder as he plunges into me with a single, forceful thrust.

"Shhh," he murmurs, my moans rising in time with his thrusts.

His palm covers my mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sounds. Another orgasm crashes over me, my inner muscles clenching around him. He groans, removing his hand to press his lips to mine. We swallow each other's moans, lost in the consuming intensity as Kyle finds his release.

A creak from the monitor makes us both freeze. The green light holds steady. Levi’s still asleep. I can hear both our hearts pounding, mine echoing in my ears, his steady beneath my palm. For a second, neither of us breathes.

Then I whisper, “We didn’t even close the door.”

Kyle laughs under his breath, low and guilty, like a teenager sneaking in past curfew. “I better close it.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow, cocky. “You sure?”

He grins at me, one brow lifting. “So, I shouldn’t?”

I try not to laugh, biting the inside of my cheek. “Go lock the damn door,” I mutter, nudging him with my foot.

He rolls out of bed, still grinning, and pads quietly to the door. The door clicks shut, and for a moment, all I can hear is the hum of the monitor and the soft rustle of sheets as he slides back in beside me. Naked this time.

His arm wraps around my waist.

“Where were we?” he asks.

I smile into the dark, taking off my shirt. “Right here.”

Chapter Eight

Kyle ~August 2020

COVID-19. What a joke. What started as a couple of days off, some extra time to “flatten the curve” has now stretched into months of lockdown, isolation, and staring at the same four walls that used to feel like a home. Now, they feel more like a containment unit.

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