Page 30 of When it Comes to You

Silence.

I tiptoe toward the bedroom, knowing full well that if I can't see him, he probably can't see me. I stop when I reach the doorway, squinting into the darkness.

“Westin,” I call out again.

I jump and let out a yelp of surprise when something shifts and a breeze hits my face. And that’s when I see him. Lying in the middle of my bed, completely naked and surrounded by ten glow sticks, all varying in colors.

And the breeze, well that was from him throwing the blanket off the bed.

Emotion clogs my throat as I realize what he’s done.

He’s recreating our first time. The night before he left me. We were in this old cabin in the woods that sat at the back of his grandparents’ property. It got dark and the only means of light we had were some glow sticks he found in one of the kitchen drawers.

“Westin.” I look around at all the glowing neon sticks.

“Come here.” He holds his arms out to me. I don't hesitate as I crawl into his arms, snuggling my face into the side of his neck.

“You wasted all my glow sticks,” I whine, pulling back to look at his face. “I was saving those.”

Truth is, they were left over from a cake I did for a ten year old’s laser tag birthday party. I'm not sure why I brought them up here, but right now I'm kind of glad I did.

“You remember?” he asks, kissing my hair.

“Like I could forget.” I curl into his side. My hand slides across his stomach, my fingertips trailing a slow path from his navel to his chest and back down again. I love the way his body reacts to my touch.

“If you keep doing that, we are going to have a repeat of what happened next.” He’s referring to my hand as it dips lower, my fingertips skating along his pubic bone.

“Oh, I'm counting on it.” I smile into the crook of his neck, then throw my leg over his waist, positioning myself perfectly so that his hardness is nestled snugly against my core.

Grinding my hips forward, I teasingly slide back and forth.

“Scarlett,” he warns on a weak protest.

I smile down at his glowing outline and repeat the same torturously slow process over again.

The biggest problem with teasing him is that I’m also teasing myself. It’s been minutes and I’m already dying to feel him inside of me again.

Lifting my hips, I reach between us and position him at my entrance before letting my hips fall again, slowly lowering myself onto him. We both gasp.

I tease and torture, moving in slow circles, up and down, making sure he feels every part of me, every ounce of moisture, every quiver of my body, every prickle of my flesh.

I can tell he's fighting for control. His hands grasp at my hips as he tries to urge me on faster and harder. And while I want that, I’m enjoying watching him squirm way too much to stop.

Finally reaching his breaking point, he abruptly lifts me. The next thing I know, I’m on my stomach with my ass in the air. Before I can even process the shift in power, he drives into me from behind with so much force I nearly topple over.

His fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place as he begins to pound into me. Each thrust is deeper, harder.

I can feel him everywhere.

And not just physically...

——

MY DELICIOUSLY SOREmuscles bring a smile to my face as I stretch out in my bed, my hand searching for the ringing alarm clock on my bedside table.

As my arm skirts along the soft sheets, the memories of last night flood my brain. The way Westin kissed me. The way he felt inside of me. The way he held me afterward and how we talked for hours.

I know that time changes people and that the more years that pass, the more we tend to lose part of who we used to be. But with Westin, I feel like I’m somehow reclaiming the girl I once was. The good parts, anyway. The parts of me that knew what it meant to open up and to love.

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