Page 95 of She's Like the Wind
He opened his palm and held it out, waiting for me to give myself to him; and I did, letting his warmth seep into me through that touch.
“Then let me love you,” he said, smiling, “until you’re no longer afraid.”
CHAPTER 33
Gage
She moved like the wind.
It wasn’t just her hips or the way her hair curled around her shoulder—it was the way she lived in my life. The way she laughed with me. Kissed me like she knew exactly what it cost her to open up again; but she was brave and bigger than her fears.
Naomi LeBlanc was still the most extraordinary woman I’d ever known. And this time, I didn’t flinch when I realized I was in love with her.
I leaned into it.
Sank into it because I was made for loving her.
I apologized a lot, until she got sick of it and told me to stop. Even Ezra called and said he was sorry for being a douchebag. It was funny because we could hear his wife coaching him on what to say. She forgave him, too.
We didn’tget back together. Werenovatedfrom the ground up.
Lazy mornings in her apartment, the windows open, her playlist humming low, sultry jazz while I cooked her eggs.
Late nights where we stayed up talking in bed about her parents, about Lia, about all the things we hadn’t talked about before.
Then there were the days we didn’t say anything at all, when she curled up beside me on the couch while I read, or I sat with her while she worked on her computer, my hand resting on her hip like it had never left.
We touched each other all the time—it was a way to stay connected. Aurelie teased us about it, about how we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.
We laughed more.
We argued sometimes.
But now, we stayed before, during, and after the fight.
The first time we made love again, it wasn’t a mad rush to the finish. It wasn’t adrenaline-fueled passion. It wasn’t coming together with frantic urgency.
I undressed Naomi as though she were an enigmatic secret I longed to memorize anew. She was a precious gift, one I doubted I deserved, yet I was determined to unwrap with both hands and my whole heart; and keep herforeverif she’d have me.
She pulled me down with her onto the bed, an irresistible siren's call.
As my lips trailed thirsty kisses down the gentle valley of her stomach, I paid homage to every birthmark and every freckle, each a cherished piece of her story.
I took my time with her until she was panting, desperate to have me inside her, until I was going out of my mind, wanting her. “Come for me, baby,” I ordered roughly.
She did, beautifully, exploding on my fingers and my tongue.
Then and only then, I dove into her welcoming depths, knowing in my heart that she was my sanctuary, my home.
I was still inside her, throbbing, feeling the aftershocks when she stared up at me, her breath trembling, heavy with anticipation. "I love you," she whispered. Her words weaving into the charged atmosphere between us.
This time, I didn’t panic.
This time, I didn’t run.
This time, I thanked the universe for giving her back to me.
I brushed my thumb over her lip. “I love you, too, baby. I’ve loved you since I first laid eyes on you, and you stole my fuckin’ breath. You still do.”
