Page 57 of Where She Belongs
“Andie.” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “We can take this as slowly as you need. We don’t have to rush anything.”
She sighs, a sound of contentment mixed with lingering doubt. “I know. But I don’t want to stop.”
Her words send a jolt through me, a mix of relief and anticipation. I brush a strand of hair from her face, kiss her lightly on the nose.
“Neither do I,” I admit.
We lie there for a while, letting the moment stretch, letting the reality of what we’ve done sink in. I can feel her heart gradually slow, her muscles relax. This is the calm after the storm, and it feels fragile, precious.
“Promise me one thing,” she says.
“Anything.”
“That we’ll always be honest with each other. No matter how hard it is.”
“I promise,” I say, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
“Come here,” she says, pulling me down into her arms. We hold each other, the warmth of our bodies mingling, and for the first time, it feels like more than just comfort. It feels like a beginning.
I kiss her neck, her shoulder, savoring the way she responds to each touch. My hand slides down her side, tracing the curve of her hip. The desire that’s been simmering between us for so long flares up again, hot and urgent.
“I want you,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. “I need you.”
Every rational thought vanishes. I reach for the nightstand and fumble with the drawer where I’d stuffed a couple of condoms the night we had to move everything into the bedroom. I always bring protection simply because it’s what I do.
The condom in my grasp, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions. Everything about this feels monumental.
Andrea watches me with an intensity that makes my heart pound. When I sit back and start to open the package, she takesit from me, her touch both gentle and sure. I expect her to hesitate, but she doesn’t. Instead, she applies it with a care that makes me ache, her fingers grazing me in a way that’s almost too much to bear.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice a mix of anticipation and something deeper, something like vulnerability.
I nod, unable to speak. I position myself over her, and she opens to me with a trust that takes my breath away. When I enter her, it’s like everything in the world shifts into place. The sensation is exquisite, but it’s the emotional weight that nearly undoes me.
Inch by inch, I sink into her, feeling her body welcome me. She gasps softly, her fingers digging into my back as I bury myself fully inside her.
For a moment I don’t move. We stay there, joined together, connected in a way that goes beyond anything I’ve ever known before.
It feels like coming home.
“Fuck, Andie, you feel so good,” I murmur before kissing her, tasting the salt of her skin, the sweetness of her lips.
This is more than just sex. It’s a claiming, a giving. Every touch, every movement says what we haven’t been able to: I trust you. I need you. I’m here.
We move together slowly, deliberately, as if trying to memorize every second. Her hands roam my back, my arms, pulling me closer with each stroke.
Time stretches and bends. I lose myself in her, in us. When the climax builds, it’s like a wave rising inexorably, ready to crash and sweep us away. I hold on, not wanting this to end, but it’s too powerful to resist.
“Andie.” I gasp, and she tightens around me, her own release triggering mine. We shatter together, a burst of stars in the dark.
I collapse beside her, utterly spent, and she curls into me. Our breathing is ragged, our bodies slick with sweat. I stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, her cheeks.
“That was...” I start, searching for the right words. Amazing? Life-changing? None of them seem to capture what just happened.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, her eyes closed, a small, contented smile playing on her lips. “It was.”
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine that this is us. That we’re partners in this forever. That we’ll wake up tomorrow and start again, without pretense or performance or regret.
But it’s not real. Not yet.
