breath leaves my lungs in one gust, my mouth open wide at the suddenness of his invasion. But I love it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He barely gives me time to adjust before he’s withdrawing again, sloooow, agonizingly slow, and then he hammers home with the same force.
I hitch my leg around his hip, needing to hang on as he sets a furious pace, his eyes locked with mine. “I’m never letting you go now, Alexis,” he says, each word punctuated by a thrust.
“Good. Me either,” I manage to respond. And those are the last words between us, not even the normal yes and more and there. Because there’s no stopping the piston of Colt’s hips. And I wouldn’t want to even if I could. Because he’s hitting me just right, and between missing him for days, the extreme sexual tension in the car the whole way home, and the anticipation, I’m seconds from detonating with pleasure, each thrust pushing me closer and closer to the edge until electricity zips across my nerve endings as he sends me flying.
He grinds himself into me, the tendons in his neck and arms standing out as he pulses inside me, and Colt coming is one of the most erotic sights I’ve ever seen. It’s not the first time I’ve thought it, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but after the week we’ve had, it feels more precious than ever.
As he collapses on top of me, I cup his face, bringing his lips to mine for a sweet kiss. He wraps his arms around me and rolls so I’m on top of him, not pulling out yet. His head falls back to the bed, and I snuggle into his neck, enjoying the salty-sweet smell of his face lotion and him, sweaty from performing tonight both on stage and in bed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about what I was thinking,” I whisper after a long moment.
He turns so we’re on our sides and props his head up so he can look at me, his eyes examining my face. “I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to ask you about the papers,” he says.
Reaching out, I rest my hand on his heart. “We might need to work on our communication skills.”
“Maybe so,” he says with a quick laugh, bending his head and kissing me before he reaches between us to hold onto the condom and pull out. He disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, disentangling himself from his jeans in the process, and I just watch him from the bed, content and worry free for the first time in too long.
He climbs back into bed and opens his arms. I climb into them, claiming my usual spot cuddled against his side. It feels right. Like coming home after a long absence. He kisses the top of my head, one of his hands already roaming over my ass. “I promise not to jump to conclusions in the future or make unilateral decisions about what I think is best for you.”
I kiss his chest. “I promise to talk through the things I’m considering with you so you know what’s going on.”
He sighs, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. “I feel like those are more significant vows than the ones we exchanged on the beach.”
A grin spreads across my face, and I lift my head to look at him. “Right? Much more important. And I actually mean it.”
He pulls me back down to his chest and lets out another sigh of contentment. “Me too. I love you, Alexis.”
“I love you too, Colt.”
Epilogue
Colt
Six months later …
Jonathan lowers himself into the chair next to me, sipping a drink, his suit jacket unbuttoned. “Congratulations, man,” he says, his voice sincere, his gaze trained on where his wife and mine laugh with Lauren.
“Thanks.” We sit in relative silence, the noise of the reception swirling around us, music playing over the speakers, people dancing, talking, laughing, and eating. We’ve done all the major wedding things, and the reception has been well underway for over two hours. Soon I’ll claim Alexis and we’ll head off to be alone for a while. Heading off for our real honeymoon, though to be honest, I wouldn’t trade those months of hiding out in her apartment for anything—teasing each other with our near-nakedness, writing and rehearsing together, living and breathing only our music and each other. That’s where and how we actually became a couple. Without that incubator, I’d