Page 31 of Kisses and Paperclips

A soft adjustment in her seat, like something tugged deep in her hips.

Fingers pressed against the edge of the table, tightening for a half second before she released them.

Then came the slow, measured breath slipping past parted lips like it had something to hide.

Controlled.

But not effortless.

Like her body had flinched before she could stop it.

Still sore.

The knowledge hit low and hot.

No mistaking it. I remembered exactly how that ache started.

The way her back arched when I slid inside her for the first time.

How her teeth sank into that full bottom lip, trying to cage the sounds spilling out.

The way she said my name, over and over, like a curse she didn’t want lifted.

And now she sat there.

Buttoned up. Composed.

Every inch the professional.

Like I hadn’t rearranged her entire nervous system.

I stretched my legs slowly, letting my foot tap her beneath the table. Watched her jaw tighten.

She could lie with her words.

Could avoid my gaze.

Could sit there looking like a damn untouchable queen.

But her body?

Her body was still speaking my language.

And right now, it was telling me everything she wouldn’t.

My attention returned to my mother, almost forgetting she was in the room.

The exchange between us felt more stilted than I had pictured it would.

Years of estrangement didn’t disappear with a bouquet or a forced smile.

She was trying, though.

I guess… so was I.

I took a breath, holding it down, caging the memories clawing their way up my throat.

Mom’s warm greeting was the closest we’d been in a long time.

---