Page 93 of Becoming Us
“Fuck,” I panted, forehead pressed to the mattress, heart hammering in my chest.
Atty’s arm curled tighter around me, the grip across my ribs almost bruising. His rhythm faltered. He was close.
I arched my neck back, chasing the slide of his lips on my skin. My hand found his nape and held him there, fingers buried in his damp hair.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I said. “Fill me up.”
He didn’t need more than that. One more thrust and he groaned deep, face buried against my neck as his body trembled. He held my hips still—one beat, then another—before his weight sagged over me, pinning me flat.
I let out a winded laugh. “Jesus, you’re heavy. Can’t breathe.” The words scraped out, part joke, part truth.
He chuckled against my skin, breath hot and uneven. Then, carefully, he slipped out of me, rolling to the side with a quiet sigh. I turned toward him, and he didn’t hesitate—pulling me into a slow kiss, one hand at my jaw.
My hand slid over the warm stretch of his back, tracing the muscle there, inching closer until nothing separated us. He kissed me like he couldn’t stand the thought of stopping.
“How was that?” His voice was soft against my mouth.
I smirked. “Fishing for a score?”
Atty laughed quietly, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, if it were—elevens across the board. You definitely broke the scoreboard.”
“Noah…”
I brushed my nose against his. “It was perfect, sweetheart.”
He nodded against my forehead, pressing a kiss there before slowly untangling from me.
“Wait—where are you going?” I asked as he sat up and pulled on his boxers.
“Just grabbing something to clean you up. I’ll be right back.”
I tried to tug him closer, but he was already up and gone. I flopped onto the bed, dragging my fingers through my hair, getting stuck in the knots.
We just had sex.
A grin took over my face.
And more important than that—he told me he loved me. Again.
I closed my eyes, holding the weight of it in my chest, where it ached and settled all at once.
Was this mine now? Was he really mine again?
Atty came back, closing the door softly behind him. The bed dipped as he climbed on, a cloth in one hand, a glass of water in the other.
He set it within reach, unhurried. “I got you water.”
“Thanks.”
He wiped my chest first. “Turn on your side.”
I obeyed, and he cleaned between my thighs, between my cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring at him. At this perfect man, naked and flushed, hair mussed, and focused entirely on me.
“I need to ask you something.”
His gaze flicked up, brows lifted. He tilted his head, silently encouraging me.
