Page 59 of Heal Me

Gunnar pats my leg. “Do you want to eat here or at the table?”

Holding my arms out to him, I make grabby hands. “Here. We can watch TV. But I’m feeling a bit needy and want to hold you first.” With an indulgent smile, Gunnar crawls across the couch, carefully lying on top of me, with most of his weight on his elbows. I wrap my arms around him and pull him down, wanting his weight pressing me into the sofa. It’s comforting. “I missed you while I was sleeping.”

Gunnar kisses the tip of my nose. “I was right here the whole time, keeping your feet warm.”

He’s adorably sweet and so very handsome. I brush back his hair, unprepared for the intense ache in my chest. “We’ve only been together a few weeks, but already things feelrightbetween us. What took me months to feel for someone else, I feel for you now. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

Gunnar’s smile fades a little, and he stares into my eyes so intently I’m worried I’ve misread things, and I’m going too fast. I open my mouth to apologize, to tell him not to worry about it, but he speaks first. “Is it less overwhelming if I tell you I feel the same? Those same thoughts have crossed my mind so many times over the past few weeks, but I thought if I said something, I’d scare you off.” He strokes his fingertips across my eyebrow and down my nose, and the gentleness of it settles my nerves. “We fit. It just works. And I’m not going to question it. I’m going to be thankful and try my best to be a good boyfriend and not fuck up, so you don’t leave.”

I hug him tightly, nuzzling into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.” The tender moment is interrupted by my stomach making its demand for food. Gunnar chuckles and kisses the side of my head before pushing up and rolling off me. “Okay, dinner. Here on the couch. You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

I sit up and fold the blanket, laying it across the back of the couch before flipping through channels. I stop when I land on a classic cloak-and-dagger action movie. Gunnar comes back with a full tray, sets it down on the coffee table, and we sit very close, nestled into the corner, eating oversized mugs of stew and chunks of hearty bread. He kisses my cheek between bites. “This is really delicious, babe. You’re a natural in the kitchen.”

My cheeks heat, and I laugh. “There is nothing natural about me in the kitchen.” But I’m very pleased he’s enjoying the food. “Wedid a great job. It was a joint effort. But I agree, it is tasty.”

When we finish eating, Gunnar puts all the dishes back on the tray and stands. “I’ll clean up.” I’m not going to fight him on it. If he wants to clean up, I’ll gladly let him. I close my eyes and pucker my lips, turning my face up to his. Gunnar laughs, and I feel his warm breath against my cheek a moment before he kisses me. It’s loud and purposefully silly, and it makes me laugh. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.” My eyes slide open as he pushes to his feet, picking up the tray and carrying it into the kitchen.

It doesn’t take long for him to load the dishwasher and put the leftover stew in the refrigerator. Then we spend the rest of the evening cuddling on the sofa, flipping through random TV programs, kissing and touching more than watching. It seems he craves the contact as much as I do. Hours later, I take the remote from Gunnar, turn off the TV, and hold out my hand. “Come to bed.” I stand, tugging him to his feet, and we move silently through the house, shutting off lights as we go, then climb the stairs to the bedroom.

Moonlight streams through the windows, and I turn to him, reaching out to run my hands down his chest, silently lifting his shirt over his head. He pulls me close, placing soft kisses along my jaw and whispers into my ear. “Lights?”

His hands find my waist, then push my shirt up and off. It makes a soft thud as it hits the carpet. “No.” There’s enough ambient light to see and an intimacy in the darkness that I don’t want to break. It’s like no one else in the world exists.

I brush the backs of my hands down Gunnar’s chest and feel his breath stutter. “Joce.” His voice is quiet but heavy with unspoken words. It’s then that I stop reining in my feelings. I give up telling myself this is happening too fast, too soon. It doesn’t matter. What I’m feeling is real. I don’t need to name it, but I know I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone else. I cup Gunnar’s face with my palm and rub my cheek against his beard, pressing into his embrace.

His fingertips ghost down my back, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through me. “Baby.”

“Shhhh.” Brushing my lips along his warm skin, I breathe in the spicy scent of sweat and cologne. I lift my face to his and tug him down until our foreheads touch, running my fingers through his hair. His arms tighten around me, and I tilt my face up to his, our lips meeting in a tender kiss. I pour everything I’m feeling into the press of our mouths, wanting him to know all that he is to me. Then I step back and take his hand, leading him silently to the bed. We slowly undress each other, our fingertips brushing over warm skin, our lips barely parting.

Gunnar wraps me in his arms and kneels on the edge of the bed, slowly lowering me to the mattress. He covers my body with his, slowly rolling his hips against me, and I moan into his mouth as his cock strokes against mine. “Mon chéri, I need you.”

He nibbles my lower lip and lightly rubs the tip of his nose to mine. “You have me. All of me.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into another deep, languid kiss, reaching between us to stroke his cock. This time, he gasps and thrusts against my hand, and I let go, barely able to think, lost in the heady feel of Gunnar everywhere.

His fingers glide down my torso, dipping between my thighs, and I spread my legs wider, my gaze locked on his as his fingers tease over my hole.

With a soft kiss, he sits up, slowly stroking my cock as he pulls a bottle of lube from the side drawer. In moments, his slick fingers tease over my hole, then press inside. My mouth falls open, and I arch into his touch, my eyes half-closed with pleasure. I pull him down, devouring his lips, needing more of him.

Gunnar tucks his knees under himself, spreading them and forcing my legs further apart with his knees, stroking his leaking cock before leaning forward and pressing into me. I gasp, and he covers my mouth with his, our tongues stroking in rhythm with his gentle thrusts. Our bodies move in tandem, synchronized on an intensely intimate level, and the pressure builds. I wrap my legs around him, riding an emotional high, feeling this connection like nothing I’ve ever known, so close to the edge, lost to the feel of him inside me, our intimate kisses and gentle touches. When he looks at me, full of wonder and peace, my heart wants to burst with everything he makes me feel.

“Jocelin. My Jocelin.” It’s said with such reverence that I give myself to the connection, to this intimate feeling between us, not caring that I will probably drown.

His name falls from my lips as I arch off the mattress, clinging to him as my orgasm overtakes me. It’s quiet but no less emotional than before, and as I surrender to the passion, I know I’m also surrendering my heart.

He moans, shuddering against me before his hips slowly roll to a stop. His eyes glisten in the moonlight as he searches my face, then slowly lowers himself onto me. I wrap him in my arms, holding him tightly, stroking my fingers along his damp skin. When he tries to roll to the side, I hold him still. “Not yet. Please.”

“Okay.” He kisses me, wiping away tears I didn’t know I’d shed. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m perfect.” I reach up and caress his face. “This was perfect.”

His smile is sweet and melts my already tender heart. “I’m crushing you, though.”

I shake my head. “You aren’t. You make me feel safe.” Loved? Yes. That too. Because after tonight, there is no denying that’s how I feel.

Gunnar leans down and kisses me on the nose. “Good.” He strokes his fingers through my hair and kisses my lips. “But I have to move, or we’re gonna end up cemented together.”

It’s not very romantic, but unfortunately, it’s true, so I nod. Gunnar rolls to the side and grabs a shirt from the floor, cleaning us up before throwing it in the general direction of the clothes hamper. In one smooth motion, he hauls me against his side and flips the blankets over us.

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