Page 41 of The Trust We Broke
We fit.
The pieces of a complex puzzle tipping out of the box, landing completed.
I’m the lock and she’s my key.
I scoop my hands beneath her ass and lift her into my arms. Lucy wraps her legs around my waist, squeezing them tight.
Some things are the same. She still feels light as a feather in my arms. And like she always used to, she slides one hand into my hair. Her tits, a little fuller now, press against my chest.
But some things are different.
She’s wilder. And I hate that the lips I’m kissing, should’ve been kissing for the last decade, have likely kissed others.
Who she is and how she expresses her sexuality now is likely the sum of all the people she’s slept with, and not just me.
“Zach,” she says breathlessly, before kissing me again.
The sound of my name falling from those lips again, in a moment like this, ignite something deep inside me.
I stride the few paces to the truck, pick her up, and slam her back up against the door.
If we weren’t outside of Butcher’s house, I’d throw her into the back of the truck and strip us both naked.
But why did she do it?
I force the question from my brain, because if I think about it, I’ll have to stop this.
I lower her a little, so her pussy rests right over my cock. Denim layers stand between us, but I can still feel her heat.
“Fuck,” I curse, and move her to the other side of the truck.
I shouldn’t worry whether Butcher can see.
I should have more sense than to do this.
But maybe this is the closure I need.
Maybe it’s better we’re outside. In the open. Unconstrained.
Using my body, I lock her up against the truck and move my hand to her throat as my tongue seeks hers. My fingers trace the shape of her neck. Her skin is as smooth as it always was. This close to her, the scent from it is even stronger.
I’m here, fully present. And I’m also twenty-nine years old, having the most enlightening and formative sexual moment of my life.
It’s Lucy.
Always has been.
Never can be.
I begin to pulse my fingers, tightening and relaxing. Always avoiding her carotid arteries. Somewhere deep in the recess of my brain, the wordconsentflashes.
I ignore it.
Lucy knows how to stop me if she needs me to. We talked about it so often. Had so many rules, she can’t have forgotten them all.
Her safe word wassunsetbecause she used to love sitting out watching the sun go down with me.
She could also snap her fingers three times if she couldn’t speak, or knock on my body with a single knuckle three times.
