Page 46 of Follow Me
Chapter Twelve
The last time they’d slept under the same roof, the night of the Halloween party, she’d tried to coax him into taking a shower with her and he’d resisted her.
Not because he didn’t want to shower with her. Before, it’d been a cherished daily ritual between them and had ended in shower sex more times than he could count.
But that weekend, he’d refused because he didn’t know then if he’d be able to control himself—his tears—over being able to visually trace nearly every bone in her body.
But she was no longer that woman, either. If he was truly honest with himself, that weekend she’d been far from her worst, but he still overlaid an image from his haunted memory onto her body every time. The image from the day when he realized that he was dangerously close to losing her. The first time he realized how truly insidious and cunning her anorexia was, how many unconscious skills she’d developed to conceal its progress from him.
When her doctors had pulled him aside and asked if she had a DNR, or a living will, because he should make sure all that was in place.
Kel took a deep breath and shoved all those memories away, tried to be here and now, with her.
With who she wasnow.
Mal held his hand as he followed her out of the nursery. She left the door standing open behind them as she led him down the hall into their bedroom, to their bathroom.
There, she pulled him in for another kiss, shoving his shorts down and off his hips so he could step out of them. He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it and the over-shirt in one smooth move, interrupted only by him pausing their kiss so he could get them off over her head and drop them to the floor. His T-shirt followed and she was once again in his arms and kissing him.
Warm and willing, she ground against him, his cock impossibly hard again already and her fingers digging into his ass cheeks as she kissed him. She still looked too thin to him, but there was a softness now around her ribs and shoulders that had been missing weeks ago.
An improvement.
He tried to focus onthosethings now as he gathered her into his arms and nuzzled the right side of her neck, working his way down, loving the sweet, needy noises she made for him. Familiar noises he hadn’t heard in a forever.
Sounds he’d missed to the very depths of his soul.
When he arrived at the juncture of neck and shoulder, he teased her by grazing her flesh with his teeth, loving how she responded, holding her tighter as she tried to wriggle into a position to capture his cock between her thighs once more. He nipped his way up and down her shoulder while her nipples pebbled as she rubbed them against his chest.
“Please!” she softly begged.
He closed his eyes and bit her, savoring the feel of her nails digging into his flesh. He nibbled and sucked up and down her shoulder, wanted to bite his way all the way down her body. With her breasts right there he cupped them, sucked on her nipples, back and forth. Her hands gripped his head and he felt a roar filling his mind, driving out all other thoughts except one—
Her.
His sweet, beautiful goddess.
He dropped to his knees before her, kissing his way down her tummy, gentle kisses over her navel and tracing the scar from her C-section with melancholy reverence. That’s when he finally processed she was still shaving down there.
That was how long it’d been since he really…
He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her tummy, arms wrapped around her as he found himself crying again.
Something had opened within him, a silent wound bursting with pus and finally able to drain.
Nightmares finally turned out into the bowels of his brain instead of infesting the space directly behind his eyes and always on his mind.
Sweet, gentle hope wanting to make its way back into his heart.
He kissed lower, nudging her legs apart and cupping her ass with his hands to hold her pussy right there for him. Their juices already coated the insides of her thighs and he tasted them mixed together when he dipped his tongue along the cleft hiding her clit from him.
But he knew where it was. How many countless hours had he spent on his knees or between her thighs and forcing her to bliss with his mouth?
Because he enjoyed making her moan.
He still wept as his tongue made tiny circles around the bud, coaxed it from hiding, latched on with his lips and teased her into those long-absent sounds that made his cock flex and ache and want to be buried inside her again.
Kneading her ass, he settled in and treasured the feel of her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, bracing herself on him. It’d been so damned long.
