Page 285 of Legacy
Those words undo me as she stands slipping between my legs
Pulling down her dress, letting it fall to the floor.
She’s offering.
A gift.
A piece of refuge.
Her fingers unbutton my shirt, the heat of her seeping into my skin as they glide down. She pushes the fabric off, her hands gliding down my shoulders as it falls.
Slow.
Careful.
Like she’s unwrapping something important.
LikeI’mimportant.
Her hands go for my belt—
And I let her.
I let her strip me bare, because I can’t speak. Because if I do, the weight of everything I’ve carried will split me open.
She takes my hand once I’m free of the last barrier, and guides me back onto the bed, her fingers laced with mine, her touch unwavering.
I lie back, eyes fixed on her as she climbs over me, not like she’s taking control.
Like she’sanchoringus both.
Her thighs bracket my hips. Her fingers slide along my jaw. She leans down, her bare chest pressed to mine, her lips brushing mine but not kissing yet.
I reach between us and find the last scrap of lace keeping her from me.
And I tear it.
She doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t question.
She just leans in, skin to skin, heart to heart—and rests her forehead against mine like she already knows what this is.
Not sex.
Not need.
Salvation.
I guide myself to her entrance, but I don’t rush.
I press in slowly, like prayer, like penance, until I’m buried in the only place I’ve ever felt whole.
Her breath catches. Mine breaks.
My hands settle at her waist, holding her steady as she rocks into me.
Every roll of her hips, every brush of her body against mine, it feels like she’s rewriting me, smoothing over the cracks, stitching the seams of a man who never learned how to hold anything without crushing it.
