Page 74 of Worth the Wait

My fingertips trace the delicate curve of her shoulder, unable to resist touching her even in sleep. She stirs, making a soft sound of contentment that pulls at something primal within me. Her eyes flutter open, momentarily disoriented before focusing on my face with sleepy recognition.

"Hey," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep and lingering satisfaction.

"Hey yourself," I reply, watching warmth bloom across her features, just Tarryn looking at me with unfiltered affection that makes my heart stutter against my ribs.

She stretches languidly against me, her naked body sliding against mine in a way that immediately awakens my desire. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven," I tell her, turning to gather her closer, my hand spanning the small of her back. "We have time."

Her smile turns knowing as she feels my body's response pressing insistently against her thigh. "Time for what, exactly?"

Instead of answering, I capture her mouth with mine, morning breath be damned. She responds immediately, melting against me with none of yesterday's desperate urgency but with something deeper, more deliberate. My hand slides lower, cupping the perfect curve of her ass, pulling her closer as our kiss deepens.

Her leg hooks over my hip, creating delicious friction that draws a groan from deep in my chest. I roll her beneath me, settling between her thighs with practiced ease, my mouth never leaving hers. When I finally push inside her, the sensation is exquisite—her body welcoming me home, still slightly swollen from last night's activities but wet and ready.

Our movements are unhurried this morning, a stark contrast to yesterday's frantic fucking. We rock together slowly, her hands mapping my back, my shoulders, tangling in my hair as I build her pleasure with each measured thrust. Her eyes remainopen, locked with mine in startling intimacy that feels almost more exposing than our physical connection.

When she comes, it's with a soft gasp of my name, her body tightening around mine in pulsing waves that push me over the edge into my own release. I collapse against her, burying my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin.

For long moments, we lie tangled together, heartbeats gradually slowing, my weight partially supported on my forearms to avoid crushing her. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my back, her expression thoughtful as she gazes up at me.

"What?" I ask, curious about the slight furrow between her brows.

"This terrifies me," she admits, voice barely above a whisper. "How much I want this. Want you." I brush a strand of hair from her face, allowing my fingertips to linger against her cheek.

"I know," I tell her, understanding the courage it takes for her to acknowledge this vulnerability. "Me too."

Her surprise is evident. "You're scared?"

"Terrified," I confirm, shifting to lie beside her, our bodies still pressed together from shoulder to ankle. "I've spent eight years building a life without you, Tarryn. Convincing myself I was over you, that what we had was just young love, beautiful but ultimately meant to end."

Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "And now?"

"Now I know that was a lie I told myself because the truth was too painful." I bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "The truth is I never stopped loving you. Not really."

Before she can respond, my phone erupts in shrill demand from the nightstand, shattering our intimate bubble. Miguel's name flashes on the screen, unusual for a Saturday morning. Concern immediately replaces the ease of moments before. I answer.

"Hayes."

"Jackson." Miguel's voice carries a strain I rarely hear from our usually composed managing partner. "I need to see you and Tarryn in my office as soon as possible. Something's come up with the Christine situation."

Beside me, Tarryn stiffens, obviously hearing enough to understand the subject. Her hand tightens in mine as I respond.

"Of course. When would you like us there?"

"Can you make it by nine?" The urgency in his tone is unmistakable.

I glance at Tarryn, who nods immediately. "We'll be there."

After hanging up, Tarryn is already sliding from bed. "What did he say exactly?" she asks, gathering scattered clothing from my bedroom floor.

"Just that something's come up with Christine and he needs to see us both immediately." I join her, locating my boxers tangled in the sheets. "It didn't sound dire but definitely urgent."

Worry creases her forehead as she slips into her lace underwear, the movement momentarily distracting me despite the circumstances. "I thought everything was resolved. He said he'd handle it."

I step closer, stilling her hands as she fumbles with her bra clasp. "Hey." I wait until she meets my eyes. "Whatever happens, we face it together, remember."

"Okay," she agrees quietly, leaning into me for a moment before resuming our rushed preparations.

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