Page 43 of Worth the Wait
She shifts against me, and the movement brings her body into perfect alignment with mine, reminding us both that we’re naked under these soft sheets, that last night confirmed everything we both felt but were afraid to name.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Nowhere more important than right here.”
Lianne’s smile grows wider as she shifts to prop herself up on one elbow, the movement causing the sheet to slip, revealing the elegant line of her shoulder, the curve of her breast, and I have to fight the urge to pull her down for another kiss.
“You know,” she says, tracing patterns on my chest with one finger in a way that’s driving me slowly insane, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed. Even back then, you were always thinking about the next meeting, the next obligation.”
She’s not wrong. Even when we were together during Sophia’s wedding planning, part of my mind was always occupied with business or family expectations or the careful balancing act of keeping my relationship with her a secret. But this morning, with Lianne’s finger drawing lazy circles on my skin and her hair catching the sunrise, nothing else exists.
“Maybe I’ve learned what’s actually important,” I say, catching her hand and bringing it to my lips to press a soft kiss to her palm.
“And what’s that?” she asks.
Instead of answering with words, I roll us over in one smooth movement, settling above her with careful attention to her response. She doesn’t tense or pull away—instead, she welcomes me with a soft sigh that sounds like coming home.
“This,” I say, brushing my lips against hers in a kiss that’s soft and reverent and full of everything I can’t quite say yet. “You. Us. The way you look at me like I’m someone worth trusting again.”
Lianne’s hands come up to frame my face, her thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with infinite tenderness.
“You are worth trusting,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.”
The confession breaks something open in my chest, some part of me that’s been holding back even in our most intimate moments. When I kiss her this time, it’s with the desperate gratitude of someone who’s been given a second chance at something precious.
This kiss is different from last night’s urgency. This is slow and deliberate, a claiming that goes both ways. I take my time relearning the taste of her, the way she responds when I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, the soft sound she makes when I deepen the kiss.
“Cam,” she breathes against my mouth, and my name sounds like a prayer, like everything she’s been holding back for four years.
“I’m here,” I murmur, trailing kisses down her throat to the sensitive spot that makes her arch against me. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
The promise surprises us both with its intensity, but I mean every word. Whatever happens with family obligations or business pressures or the complications that destroyed us before, I’m not walking away from this. I’m not walking away from her.
When I return to her mouth, Lianne kisses me back with the kind of focused intensity that makes everything else disappear. Her hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, tracing the muscles of my shoulders, guiding me closer like she can’t get enough of the contact.
“I want you,” she says, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Again. Now. All the time.”
I groan against her shoulder as she pulls me closer. “Protection,” I murmur, though my brain is screaming that I don’t need it, that I should just take her right now, that the only thing standing between us and a future I never thought I could have is a single moment of trust.
Lianne’s fingers find the condom wrapper on the nightstand, and she slides it over me with deft fingers, making me shiver with anticipation.
And then I’m pushing inside her, filling her inch by inch until we’re pressed together in every possible way, and I can’t remember why I was ever afraid of this feeling.
This is where I belong. With her, for her. And nothing else matters.
I start to move, slow, deep strokes that make her gasp and arch against me. God, she feels so good, so right, that it takes everything I have not to lose myself immediately.
Her legs come up to wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and when she starts to respond, thrusting back against me with equal intensity, I can tell that neither of us will last long.
But it’s okay. This isn’t about technique or stamina or impressing her with my bedroom skills. This is about claiming her, owning her, letting her know that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.
And then she’s gasping my name, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she comes with a rush that pushes me over the edge, too. I come with her, holding her tight as waves ofpleasure roll through me, and it’s the most intense orgasm I can remember having in a long time.
She collapses against me as the last tremors fade, her body fitting against mine with perfect symmetry.
“Wow,” Lianne says finally, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
“Wow indeed,” I agree, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
