She kept wanting to pull back, to see reason, but the more she kissed him, the harder it became to pull away. Until all that lingered was need. It lived in the deepest parts of her heart that longed for his touch again.
Soon, he had her shirt off and unhooked her bra, revealing her breasts to him. He cupped her, kissed her, teased her nipples, sucking them up to the roof of his mouth, until all she knew was hot pleasure. She moaned against his touch imprinted on her skin. He was more confident now, more experienced, and she relished in his powerful embrace.
This time, when he leaned away, something on her stomach caught his eye. She followed his gaze then watched as he traced the three stretch marks on the side of her belly.
“From Mason?” he asked.
She nodded and couldn’t speak when she saw the sheer emotion in his eyes.
Not wanting to talk, only wanting to feel, her lips met his again, and his pants were soon gone. And then hers did too. Until they were bared to each other, except for the condom between them. He gathered her in his arms, laid her out on the bed, and slid her beneath him. She cupped his face, like she’d done the night he took her virginity. They’d both been nervous, unsure, and yet once together, everything made sense.
Hovering over her, resting his weight on one arm, he brushed his thumb against her cheek, the side of his mouth curving oh-so deliciously. “I used to dream of seeing you like this again.”
“Reality is better.” Emotion and pulsating desire consumed her as she slid her hand over the hard muscles of his butt cheek and wrapped her legs around his hips, guiding him inside her.
His low groan washed over her, and then he began moving. This time, when his mouth met hers, the kiss was different. All-consuming as he swept her away to a place where they’d once lived. A safe space full of trust and of possibilities. Each movement was slow but with the intent to tease and to offer pleasure. He thrust as if he meant for her to feel all of him, and she did—every single glorious inch, until her back was arching and her toes were curling. He tangled one hand into her hair. With the other, he pinned her hip to the blanket below. His eyes—oh, his eyes simmered with hunger.
“Sullivan,” she moaned.
He answered her with a low growl. His thrusts becoming harder, faster, as he grew harder insider her. They moved together, a steady rhythm, slapping skin against skin, his moans echoing hers. Until the pleasure became too much—so much, so good—taking her to the place only he’d ever taken her. Right over the edge, where she utterly let go. Only then did he follow her.
Sometime later, she found herself lying on her side, spooned by him. She wiggled back into him, catching her breath, and his arms tightened further around her.
A sweet, comfortable silence settled in. One Clara didn’t want to let go of. How many times had she wished and prayed that Sullivan would hold her like this again? For this one moment, she let her guards fall and allowed her young heart to relish in his safe hold.
Until he broke the silence. “What happened after I left?” he asked.
Reminded of the past, she processed his question, realized she’d heard him right, then flipped over to face him. His eyes were soft, curious, his hair damp with sweat. “Why are you asking that?”
His voice was sleepy, rough. “I want to know what you went through.”
Thinking that right now, for Mason and to finally heal, they needed only the truth between them, she indulged him. “It wasn’t pretty,” she told him honestly. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” he said, adamant.
It occurred to her that while she was doing her own type of healing to mend past hurts; he was too. Because she knew he needed it, she let herself go back into the past, to a day she’d thought she’d never recover from.
Clara pulled up to Sullivan’s childhood home. Tears flooded her face as she stood on the front yard, staring at the house that had once held so much love. Why did his mother have to die? Why couldn’t they cure cancer? Why did Sullivan have to leave?
Her feet moved, bringing her to the front door. Her knuckles knocked. Everything felt dream-like, slow and unbelievable. No way this could be her