Page 76 of Trusting the Fall

I slowly rise from my chair and stroll over to Claire, where she stands against the open door.

She doesn’t make eye contact, just presses further back against the door, an unspoken invitation for me to enter. With slow, careful steps, I stop just as the tips of my feet meet hers.

My finger hooks under her chin, and I tilt her face up to meet mine. I can feel her rapid breaths blowing against my hand, steadying as she closes her eyes.

Every other time we’ve been together, it’s been a feral need. A raging inferno. Two bodies crashing together like torrent waves against a cliff face, messy and unforgiving. But this time is different.

I lean down to capture her lips against mine, showing her I’m here for more than her body, for the passion we create together.

I’m here to nurture her. To go slow, to take the reins when needed or step back and let her lead. Whatever way she needs it, I can do it. I can be that for her because any other option just doesn’t work for me.

I need to be claimed by this woman. She’s had my heart in a vice grip since that first dance, and I’m a selfish bastard who wants them all. Every dance, every triumph, every moment of uncertainty.

Every kiss.

Every hand in mine.

I want every little moment.

It’s Claire or nothing.

33

Ibracefortheimpact I’ve grown to expect when it comes to Leif, but it’s not there.

There’s no burning or blinding eclipse of carnal need. It’s a soul-consuming caress against my defences as his lips softly brush against mine.

Firm in their adoration but gentle in their approach. It’s a tenderness I’ve never explored before, never allowed myself to, knowing the dangers that can come with such vulnerability.

Whenever I’ve been with a sexual partner in the past, my attitude was always that of play. A calculated game to find a worthy opponent to get me to the finish line, who can match my fight. Give me all you’ve got, and we’ll see who comes out victorious, and you better hope it’s me every time.

But I’m tired of playing.

I’m tired of fighting.

I want to bask in the win of more than an orgasm and avoiding a broken heart. I’ve been fighting love for too long. With Leif, I want to yield.

I run my hands over the hard planes of his chest and wrap them behind his neck, forcing his lips harder against mine. I thrust my chest against him as if my heart is trying to feel his, to match his beats because I’ve realised mine only beats for him.

He takes my cue for more and bends down to hook his hands under my legs, pulling me up and guiding my legs to wrap around him. He doesn’t need to coax me. I’m already there, latching on and fusing myself to him.

I can feel my kisses turning hurried, frantic, but not because I’m trying to put us back in the desensitised place we were before. I’m desperate for him. I need to feel him in every iota of my being.

I wind my arms around his neck, locking him to me, feeling a crazed whimper escape me as he matches my restless need. He normally feeds my hunger with a ravenous appetite of his own, but it’s different tonight.

When we reach my room, he’s careful as he lowers me down onto the bed.

My heart is racing, but my mind’s at peace when he pulls back and starts undressing.

His bright blue gaze penetrates mine, only leaving as his shirt pulls over his head.

I kick off my black heels. My hands race to unleash the zipper of the strapless denim dress I’m wearing, and it feels as though I’m taking off my armour as well. I’m laying myself bare, physically and emotionally.

Leif kneels on the bed and crawls over my body, settling between my open thighs and throws a condom on the pillow beside my head before tossing his wallet aside to join the pile of his clothes.

I place my hands on his cheeks and pull him to me, closing my eyes as I breathe in the leather and sandalwood scent I love.

He easily gives in to me, resting his bare chest against mine, and meets my lips in a deep, promising kiss.