Page 46 of Saving Her Heart
"I'm here now," I promise against her skin, feeling her tremble. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her hands map my body with the same careful attention, tracing old scars and new muscle, nails scraping lightly down my back in a way that makes me groan. She explores me with a thoroughness that borders on torture—gentle kisses followed by the scrape of teeth, soft touches that turn firm and demanding. When she takes me in her hand, stroking with a rhythm she still remembers, I have to close my eyes and fight for control.
"Still sensitive here," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the scar on my shoulder from a football accident, then lower, her mouth following the trail of hair down my chest.
"Still remember everything about you," I respond, proving it by touching her exactly how she likes—slow circles that make her hips lift off the bed, gentle pressure that has her gasping my name.
I watch her face as I touch her, cataloging every expression—the way her eyes flutter closed, how she bites her lower lip, the flush that spreads across her chest. When I slide my fingers inside her, feeling how ready she is, we both moan.
"Please," she whispers, pulling me up to kiss her. "I need you."
When we finally come together, it's with tears in both our eyes. I enter her slowly, both of us savoring the connection, the feeling of being whole again after so long apart. She wraps her legs around me, pulling me deeper, and we both have to pause, overwhelmed by the intensity.
This isn't just sex—it's a homecoming, a reconciliation, a promise. Every movement is deliberate, every kiss a vow. I rock into her with slow, deep strokes, wanting to memorize everything—the way she feels around me, the little gasps she makes, how perfectly we still fit together.
We move together as if we were never apart, bodies remembering a rhythm our hearts never forgot. She meets me thrust for thrust, her hands roaming my back, her mouth findingmine in desperate kisses. The pace builds gradually, naturally, both of us chasing something more than just physical release.
"I love you," she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders as I angle my hips in the way that always drove her wild. "I love you. I never stopped, I?—"
I capture her words with my mouth, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss. How sorry I am. How much I missed her. How I'll spend the rest of my life making up for lost time if she'll let me.
I can feel her getting close—the way her breathing changes, how her body tenses beneath me. I reach between us, touching her while maintaining our rhythm, determined to watch her come apart.
When she falls apart beneath me, my name on her lips like a prayer, her body clenching around me in waves, I follow her over that edge, burying my face in her neck to muffle my own broken sounds as I spill inside her.
Afterwards, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers in her hair, both of us breathing hard.
"That was..." she starts.
"Yeah, me too."
"We're really doing this? Us? Again?"
"We're really doing this." I nod.
She props herself up on an elbow, looking down at me. The early morning light is creeping through the blinds, painting her skin gold. "My life is a disaster right now."
"So, we'll fix it together."
"Someone's trying to destroy everything I've built."
"Then we'll stop them."
"You can't just?—"
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, interrupting her. I reach for it, frowning at the unknown number.
"Don't answer it," Kendall says.
But I've already opened the message. It's a photo. Of us. In this bed. Right now.
"Get dressed," I say, already moving. "Now."
"What—"
I show her the photo. Her face goes white.
"How? The blinds are closed?—"
