Page 58 of Brutal for It
He turns to me, voice low. “Reason five. You came back.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “You came for me.”
“Same thing,” he says.
When he reaches up to touch my face, his thumb brushes a tear away. Then another. His eyes never leave mine.
“I love you,” he says. “The version that broke. The one who ran. The one standing right here. This one. The woman who’s trying. I love all versions of you in every season in this lifetime and the next.”
Something inside me finally gives.
I step forward and press my forehead against his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop,” he murmurs. “We both crawled through fire, Jami. We’re here. That’s all that matters.”
He leans down and kisses me. Soft at first, then deeper, slower, like he’s teaching my body that touch doesn’t have to hurt.
When he starts to pull back, I catch his wrist.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
His brow furrows. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to push?—”
“You’re not.” My hands tremble as I reach up, fingers brushing his jaw. “I need this. Not to forget, I know that won’t happen. I know the memories will invade for a long time to come. I can’t erase them. But I need this to remember what love feels like. Show me, Tommy. Please. Send away the ghosts.”
He searches my face for a long moment, as if making sure the woman standing in front of him isn’t asking from fear, but from strength. Then he nods once and kisses me again slow, cherished, and deliberate.
There’s nothing rushed about it. No desperation. Just the quiet rhythm of two people finding the same heartbeat again.
Every kiss says something he doesn’t have to speak.
You are here.
You are mine.
You are safe.
You are loved unconditionally.
The world narrows to breath and warmth and the sound of his voice whispering my name like a prayer. Then slowly everything fades. The motel, the bags of dope, the needle, the shame, the men. All of it burns away in the glow of something too pure to be lust. This is me claiming myself again, this is me reclaiming our love. This is peace.
When we finally stop moving, he just holds me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other tracing slow lines down my back. I feel safe. I feel cherished.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I breathe. And for the first time, I really do.
I move up, brushing my lips against his gently. Breathing in, I take his bottom lip between my own and suck. His hands move to my sides as he takes over the kiss. Our passion ignites and I want this connection with him again. Pulling back, I look at his gaze, his eyes dancing with a need like never before. Cupping his face in both my hands, I kiss him again, not holding back as our tongues dance together in this comfortable rhythm.
Moving to the bed, I’m over him with my chest pressed to his. I feel his erection hard under me as his hands cup the curve of my ass. I get lost in the sensation of him. I can’t get enough as my panties dampen, my body instinctively knowing this is safe.
His hands roam under my top, first along my back, then up my sides and then teasing under the swells of my breast. I pause momentarily at the contact. He tenses under me.
“Tiny, we can stop if you aren’t ready.” He whispers and I relax once again.
