Page 65 of The Ballad of Us
At my apartment door, I fumble with my keys. Gray stands close behind me. When we finally step inside, the room feels different. My skin tingles with anticipation. Gray speaks too softly for me to hear. I turn to face him, and his expression takes my breath away.
This time when he kisses me, there's no hesitation or careful testing of boundaries. This is the kiss I've been waiting for since the day he walked back into my life. It’s hungry and tender and full of everything we've been too careful to say out loud.
His hands frame my face as I press closer, and I feel the moment when we both stop thinking and start feeling. This is love without walls, without fear, and without the careful distance we’ve maintained.
This is coming home.
Twenty-One
GRAY
As the door to Rhea's apartment closes, the space between us charges with an electrical current. The air thickens, every particle humming with possibility. All the boundaries and patience we've maintained for months vanish in a heartbeat.
She turns, and the look in her eyes strips me bare. Her expression is raw, exposed, and vulnerable to every feeling we have for each other. The cautious woman is gone, replaced by Rhea, fierce and determined, stirring something in me that goes beyond desire, shaking loose every fear I’ve held.
“Gray,” she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a promise all at once.
I reach for her, hands cupping her face and threading through her hair, drawing her close until no space remains. Our mouths meet with an urgency that surprises us both, so different from the gentle kisses of the past few weeks. This is months of want and careful restraint, finally allowed to explode.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I can taste the desperation on her lips, the same gnawing hunger that's been building in me since the night I first held her hand at the Halloween festival. But underneath the urgency is something deeper and entirely different from anything we’ve ever shared before.
I'm present in a way I never was in the past. Every touch, kiss, and sound registers with clarity. I remember the stale booze, blurred vision, and the alcohol distorting my reality. Now that the numbness has gone, I can feel everything again. I sense a shift in Rhea. She's lighter, and her touch is more confident. Being available to her emotionally has opened possibilities I never imagined.
“I've wanted this for so long. God, I've needed this.” She breaks the kiss long enough to say.
“Me too, baby. You have no idea how much I need to be connected to you.” I can’t properly convey what I crave with her, or the insatiable hunger I have for her. Watching her read a book or making coffee arouses me. All I have to do is look at her for my libido to roar to life.
We move together toward her bedroom, stopping every few steps to kiss or touch, reassuring ourselves that this is real. Her hands roam, tracing my shoulders, sliding under my shirt, and mapping my tattooed chest as if memorizing every detail.
When we reach the door of her bedroom, she pulls back just enough to look at me, and there's a vulnerable expression on her face, making my chest tight.
“Everything’s different. We're different.” She pauses, hesitating. “It's a little scary. I fear we'll burn too brightly and worry the intensity will fade. I hope we can build a real, lasting life together. I want to trust that.”
“Is it better different?” I ask, hoping all my work hasn’t been in vain. I’ve worked so hard to be the man she deserves. I’ll never truly be worthy of Rhea, but I want every day for the rest of my life to try to be the one who gives her safety, comfort, love, and laughter.
“So much better.” Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, and I lean into her touch like a man who's been starving. “You're really here. I can see you, Gray. All of you.”
Her words land with weight. The tightness in my chest, the longing, and the fear that plagues me daily are hard to carry. I realize it's not just desire pulling us together, it’s recognizing that we’re ready to risk everything for a love that finally feels safe to trust. There’s a part of me that will always be thankful for Rhea and her ability to forgive and show compassion. I have an ache in my chest that shows me this connection is as much about healing as it is about love.
“I love you,” I tell her, and the words feel inadequate for the depth of all I’m feeling in this moment. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”
“Show me,” she whispers against my lips, pulling me down to her.
Rhea traces a small scar on my shoulder, kissing it gently. Our first relationship was passionate but desperate, tainted by my addiction and the anxiety Rhea carries around from her childhood trauma of living with her mom’s addiction… and me. I look back to who we’ve both been at various points in our relationship prior to me getting sober and can see how far we’ve both come.
Every touch lingers, charged with meaning. Each kiss steadies me, like coming home after years adrift at sea. When she whispers my name, it's not just hunger. In her voice, I find acceptance, deep recognition, and the relief of being seen and known. She loves me despite every scar and shadow I carry.
I take my time with her, mapping every inch of her soft skin with reverent attention, and she does the same for me. There’s no rush, no rush or fear that this moment might be our last. This is lovemaking with trust, from the certainty that this is just the beginning of us.
Lifting Rhea up, she wraps her legs around me as we make it to her bed. I set her on the dresser and kiss the hell out of her. I never want to stop. I never want this to be over, and we haven’t even truly gotten started.
She moans against my lips, and my dick jumps in my pants, begging to be released and given relief. I’ve been rock hard since before we left the cabin. Breaking the kiss, she travels down my chin to my throat and peppers kisses all the way down to my chest. Her touch, her kiss, and the way she fucking smells like my favorite Tom Ford perfume ignite a fire in me.
Placing a finger under her chin, I bring her green eyes back to mine. I take a moment to take her in. How did I get so lucky with this woman? She’s not only given me an undeserved chance, but she’s also given me a second chance to make her fall in love with me again.
“Up,” I say, patting her thigh so she’ll wrap them around me again.
I don’t waste a moment in turning around and placing her on the bed. Crawling between her legs, I kiss her red, plump lips again, but I need more of the rest of her. So, I slip a hand underneath her shirt and feel her smooth, soft skin as I pull it up her body and remove it.
