Page 129 of Dial L for Lawyer
"That's tragic," I say, catching her hands and kissing both of them. "We could work you up from zero if you need PT." I don't let go of her wrists. "Could start with basic thumb exercises. Or dare I say, a little thumb war?"
She snorts, then sighs, fully relaxing against me. "I feel like I finally stopped running all the time. From everything. To everything. It was exhausting."
"A win for both of us, then." I nuzzle the wet curve of her shoulder.
"You sure you're OK with being the boyfriend of an unemployed corporate disaster?"
"Are you kidding? That's my kink." She laughs again, louder this time, and I feel it vibrate all the way down into her chest, through the water, and back up into my arms holding her afloat.
"It won't be forever." She turns in my arms, water splashing, until she's facing me, her body flush against mine. "Just until I figure out my next move."
"Or until you get sick of me," I say, and she catches that little edge of fear in my voice and just smiles, serene and knowing, like she knows exactly how far she can stretch out in my orbit before she snaps back and collides with me again.
"I don't think that's even possible," she says, fingertips brushing my cheek. "If one of us is running from this, it'll have to be you."
"Bold claim," I say, and she kisses me, wet and lingering, the slide of her tongue deliberate and slow.
We could fuck now, we both know it—could fuck in the bath, or on the tile, or in the sheets a few feet away—and it would be amazing, another victory lap, another story to add to our collection of bruised confessions and midnight promises. And maybe we will, but not yet. She isn't asking for sex right now. She's asking for permanence. For the right to linger inside a feeling, to not have to chase or end. There's a new kind of hungerin the air, and it isn't about satisfaction, or performance, or even the rush of being wanted. It's about landing somewhere soft and staying there as long as you want, until your skin is wrinkled and the water's gone cold and even then, you refuse to get out because you know the person you're with will just turn on the hot tap again, as many times as you need.
She rests her head in the crook of my neck, slippery and weightless, and I hold her as close as our bodies will allow. Her hands are looped behind my neck, anchored, like she's afraid she'll drift off and be alone.
"Caleb?" she whispers, lifting her head from my shoulder after a long while.
"Yeah?"
She turns and kisses me, soft and searching, and despite my good intentions, my body responds. She feels it, smiles against my mouth.
"Serena..."
"I need this," she says. "I need you. I need to feel something other than sad and angry and empty."
So I kiss her back, deeper this time, but I let her set the pace. When she reaches between us and takes me inside her, it's different than our usual frantic coupling. Slower. Water makes everything languid, dreamlike. She moves against me, with me, her eyes locked on mine, and there's something so intimate about it that my chest aches.
"Caleb," she breathes, rocking her hips, riding me with a slow, savoring rhythm. My hands grip her waist, but I don't drive her pace. I just hold her steady, grounding us both as she chases down whatever finish line she needs. “You feel so good.”
She throws her head back, her neck bared, the line of it wet and shining. "God, Serena," I moan, my lips on her throat, her collarbone, the little notch where her heart pounds hard under the skin.
Her breasts brush against my chest with each movement, the slide of wet skin on skin almost unbearably good. I'm trying to hold back, to let her have this moment completely on her terms, but it's getting harder as she quickens her pace, her breath coming in shorter gasps.
"I love you," I whisper against her ear, and this time she doesn't tense or pull away.
Instead, she cups my face in her hands, her eyes locked on mine. "I... I... Caleb, I— Oh fuck!"
Her body tightens around me as she comes, her eyes squeezing shut, and I can't hold back anymore. I follow her over the edge, gripping her hips tight enough to leave marks as I shudder beneath her. Water sloshes over the sides of the tub, but I couldn't care less about the mess. All I care about is the woman in my arms, trembling and gasping my name.
When we both come down, she collapses against my chest, her breath hot against my neck. I hold her close, one hand stroking her wet hair, the other gliding up and down her back.
"I've never done that before," she murmurs after a while.
"What? Bath sex?"
"No." She lifts her head, meeting my eyes. "I've never... felt like that before. Like I..." She closes her eyes and presses her forehead to mine before she tries again. "Caleb, I'm in... I... shit."
"I know you do," I say softly, saving her from the struggle. "It's OK. I know."
Her eyes fill with tears. "How can you know when I can't even say it?"
"Because you show me. Every day. In a thousand different ways." I kiss her forehead. "The words will come when they're ready. I'm not going anywhere."
