Page 40 of We Can Forever

I jump at the cheery voice, and Michael and I grind to a halt in the middle of the path. Estelle, my elderly neighbor, emerges from behind her giant metal chicken—one of many flamboyant pieces of art in her yard.

“Looks like rain.” She wipes her face with the back of her gardening glove.

“Sure does.”

She smiles at Michael. “How are you, Michael?”

“Great. I hope you are.”

I wait for his hand to tighten on mine, for the indication that he’s uncomfortable, thinking about how tomorrow the whole town will be saying that Estelle saw him going into my house. But it never comes. His gentle hold remains steady.

He’s proud to be seen with me.

A smile pulls at my lips. Even though I’m still nervous, I suddenly can’t wait another minute to get inside my house.

“Well, see you later.” I wave at Estelle and practically pull Michael into my yard and through my back door.

I’m shaking with need, my legs weak and my head spinning. A terrible ache fills my core, and there’s only one person who can satisfy it.

Shutting the door, I spin to face him. “This is my house.”

“It’s cute.” His eyes never leave my face.

“There’s no dirty laundry on the floor today, so that’s a win. I figured I wouldn’t die of embarrassment if you came over.” I’m babbling from nerves, and the more I talk, the faster the words just spit out. “Would you like some tea? Or anything else? It’s a little dark in here, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he growls.

He advances on me, head ducked, and the instant his lips meet mine, all anxiety washes away. I’m back in that sacred realm his touch always brings me to, back in a place where nothing could ever be wrong.

The kiss intensifies, and we walk into the living room, lips still locked, arms around each other. I kick my shoes off, and he follows suit. The need that before was a burning ember in my lower belly is now a roaring fire in my every cell.

“I need you,” I gasp against his mouth, truer words having never been said.

He growls in response and, in one swift move, picks me up and carries me down the short hallway and into my bedroom.

“Is this the right room?” he asks, not even looking.

I laugh against his jaw. “Bingo.”

He sets me gently on the bed and lowers his firm, large body over mine, being careful not to put too much weight on me. Too careful, maybe.

I want him inside me now, want it fast and furious till I can’t think straight. Even if that’s not what’s best for my sensitive body.

He takes his time, though, kissing down my neck and pulling off my shirt. His large hands are gentle and careful as they unhook my bra and toss it on the floor.

I don’t even consider feeling exposed, don’t even take a moment to fear that he doesn’t like what he sees. I can’t. The way Michael looks at me, it’s like he’s kneeling at the altar of his favorite goddess. Like every part of me was made divinely perfect, and no one sees this more than him.

Softly…achingly slowly… he drags his lips down my chest and belly. Unbuttoning my jeans, he pushes them down my hips and calves. I’m on fire, responding to his every touch with sighs and gasps.

How have I gone through life without this? How have I ever known happiness without this man’s touch?

Pulling my panties off, he kisses the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. My legs open to him, my body and heart silently begging him to do as he pleases.

His tongue is slow and cautious, testing the waters. My hand finds his wind-tossed hair, fingers twisting through the soft locks as he licks and teases. Waves of pleasure lift me up…up…each one taking me a little higher than the last.

I buck my hips against his face, dig my nails into his scalp. I’m tossed into the very sky, the tsunami of pleasure bringing me down with a deafening crash. I’m dimly aware of someone crying out his name—I guess it must be me?—and then I’m blinking my eyes back into focus, trying to make sense of the reality-shattering experience.

There’s no logic here, though. No explanation. There’s only me, and there’s him—me and him together, joined into one perfect rhythm.