Page 158 of New Growth
“Because I trusted you,” I said quietly. “Even when I was scared.”
His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a quiet, “Fuck.”
Softly, he kissed my shoulder. Then, he made his way down my back, trailing heat in his wake. When he reached the curve of my ass, he lingered, pressing affectionate kisses like he was worshipping me. Then he moved lower, his mouth mapping every inch of my thighs, my calves, my ankles—thanking each part of me for existing.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move.
I laid exactly where he left me, still caught in the aftershocks, my body pulsing with pleasure, my mind hazy. Every nerve was lit up, oversensitive, trembling under his touch.
A shiver ran down my spine as his warm lips met the cooler skin of my stomach and the slick mixture of our releases pooling between my thighs, settling into the sheets beneath me.
The reality of it sank in. He had claimed me.
I was his.
When he finally made his way back up, his face hovered above mine, his gaze scanning me carefully.
“Do you need anything?” His voice was gentle but intimate.
I stared at him, still floating, still processing. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles, the restraint. He wanted more. I felt it. But he held himself back, waiting for me, watching me.
He started to move like he was about to get up. “Let me get you some water—”
I caught his wrist.
“Please,” I murmured. “Just… hold me.”
The moment the words left my lips, the intensity in his eyes melted into something else—something softer.
He pulled me into his chest again, wrapping me up in his arms, his body completely engulfing mine. I curled into the warmth of him, letting it seep into my bones. His heartbeat was steady, strong. I pressed my face against his neck, inhaling him, letting myself sink into the comfort of it.
My pelvis ached, and I knew I’d be sore in the morning. But it didn’t matter.
Tonight had revealed so much. But one thing, above all, was clear.
I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “You’re not too old for me.”
Elliot huffed a quiet laugh, his chest vibrating against mine. “Oh, now you decide?”
I smiled, curling tighter into him.
His arms tightened around me. “I love you so much. Get some rest, Peanut.”
I closed my eyes, knowing I’d never sleep better in my life.
Trust.
Ineverthoughtitwould come to this.
My friendship with Elliot was one of the most precious relationships in my life—steady, familiar, and safe. But in one night, with his hands, his lips, his body, he unraveled months of doubt I had forced onto myself. Years of insecurities, planted by others and watered by my own fears, crumbled beneath his gentle touch.
I felt secure.
The man I had just given myself to loved me. And he made sure I knew it.
I felt it in the way he held me afterward. No urgency, no rush to pull away. Just warmth and comfort as his arms wrapped around me like he never planned to let go. I felt it in the way he kissed me. Like he had all the time in the world to remind me exactly how he felt about me. I felt it in the way he looked at me, his gaze filled with something heavier than just lust.
I was at ease. My body was relaxed, and my mind was quiet for the first time in forever. And yet, beneath all that peace, a new kind of ache took root. Because I wanted more. More of his hands, more of his body, more of the way he said my name like it belonged to him, which it did in more ways than one.
