Page 58 of The Path To Us

“I know what you mean.”

He nods. “But I can’t put those feelings aside any longer. You and me? Nothing else makes sense to me like being with you does.”

“I feel the same. So are we like… a couple, now?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says lowly. “We’re definitely a couple. Exclusive, in case you had any questions about that. I don’t share.”

“That’s good because I find that I’m pretty selfish when it comes to you.”

“Lucky me.”

He smiles widely.

Then…

I feel his hand slip beneath the waistband of my shorts, eyes glued to mine, making sure I’m okay with moving in this direction.

The last time someone else had his hand on me, I got pregnant with Zoey.

To say that I’m ready is an understatement.

Putting aside the knowledge that the last person to touch me was Beau’s brother, because there’s no room for that right now.

Rather than using words, I show him how ready I am by pushing down my shorts and doing my best to kick them the rest of the way off. He’s tentative at first, not just going in like I can see on his face he’d like to. For me, over fifteen years of what I thought was unrequited love is bubbling to the surface and I’m. Over. It.

Ready for the next stage.

The stage where the un is removed from the unrequited part of my love for him and we can finally, finally be what we were always meant to be.

“Beau,” I whisper, throaty and a little moan.

“That’s it,” he says, playing, getting to know what I like, what sets me off. Seems he doesn’t have to work too hard. He’s a quick learner. Or, maybe I’m just easy. Maybe a little of both considering how turned on I am right now. “Show me, honey. I want to see what gets you off.”

Beau.

That’s what — or who — gets me off.

Every orgasm I’ve given myself has been to the vision of Beau behind my eyelids. But I’m too embarrassed to admit that to him. He might love me. He might be in this now. But he doesn’t need to know how pathetic the last fifteen years have been for me pining over a man I didn’t think would ever return that love.

“Beau,” I moan softly. “Right there,” I tell him when he curls two fingers inside me while his thumb goes to work.

“Yeah?”

I nod, swallow hard and grapple for him, needing to feel more than just his chest. I slip a hand under his shorts and then…

“Holy shit,” I practically cry out, eyes wide.

“Why, thanks,” he says, grinning down at me, still working me.

“Beau. What the hell?”

“Is there a problem?” He smirks while adding another finger and words evade me. Hell yes, there’s a problem. He’s not small. And I haven’t had anything but a dildo or fingers (my own but now his, too) for years and even though I did, in fact, squeeze a human out of my vagina, it’s not as though it’s ready to take on thunder dick.

Nerves threaten to take over, not only from his size but from the sheer magnitude of what’s happening right now, but I push them away. No room for those pesky things when I’m in the middle of receiving my first orgasm from Beau. I mean, really, could there be a better way to get over an allergic reaction?

It’s time to show him what I’m capable of. That I’m not going to be boring in the bedroom, which, of course, is one of the things I was so nervous about. It’s not that I have a lot of experience, but I know what I like.

I squeeze lightly, then remove my hand, keeping my eyes locked on him, I bring it to my mouth and with the flat of my tongue, I wet my palm before bringing it back down to touch him. Play with him the same as he is with me.

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