gentle and more frantic. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so fulfilling, so satisfying. It isn’t just the physical connection. It’s the emotional. I’ve never experienced something so strong, so incredible. And it’s because I’ve finally met someone I can be vulnerable around. Someone who knows my scars, my faults, and doesn’t judge me because of them. He sees them for what they are. Part of the fabric that makes me who I am. And for the first time, I’m proud of who I am. Of everything I had to overcome to get to this point.
“I won’t last much longer,” Wes pants, nibbling and tugging on my bottom lip. “You feel too fucking good, Lo.”
“Then let go,” I murmur.
“Not until you do.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t fight it. Let yourself go. Let me feel you clench around me,” he growls through his heavy breaths.
His tone mixed with his words is all I need to tip me over the edge. I scream out his name, waves and waves of my orgasm cresting and crashing. When I think I’m about to come down, Wes drives into me with more intensity, pushing me higher once more until he grunts, jerking through his own release, my name on his tongue like an erotic benediction as it echoes in the room.
He collapses on top of me, our hearts crashing against each other in a thunderous rhythm. Our bodies are slick with sweat and sex, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. This was raw and real and exactly how it needed to be between us.
“Are you still with me?” he pants.
“I’m still with you.”
“Good.” He exhales a satisfied sigh. Then he leaves a kiss on my temple. “Don’t move.” Extracting himself from me, he slides off the bed and makes his way into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a towel. I reach for it, but he shakes his head. “Allow me.”
I had no problem letting him come inside me, but the idea of him cleaning me up feels so intimate. Too intimate.
“You don’t have to. I can—”
“I know you can. But I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you. Please?”
I swallow hard at the desperation in his tone. I nod, keeping my gaze trained on his as he brings the towel between my thighs and wipes away the evidence of what we’ve just done. After cleaning himself off, he joins me on the bed, draping an arm around my waist and dragging me to him, my back to his front.
“You okay?”
I laugh. “You keep asking that.”
“And I’ll keep asking. I don’t want you to have a single regret when it comes to me.”
Turning in his embrace, I brush my lips against his. “Non. Je ne regrette rien, as the great Edith Piaf would say. Or sing, as it were.”
“I didn’t know you spoke French.”
“I was an art history major. It was highly recommended we study a variety of classical languages. Spanish. Italian. French.”
“And you’re fluent?”
“I know the important phrases.”
“Like what?”
“Je t’aime.”
He sighs into me. “Je t’aime,” he repeats in an unrefined French accent mixed with his smooth Southern.
Unlike my professor, who would have scolded him for his bastardization of the beautiful language, I don’t care about the inflection. That’s not important. The meaning behind the words is the only thing that is.
“I love you, Londyn.”
“And I love you, Wes. Hopelessly. Madly. Completely.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Weston
A scratching sound stirs me and I open my eyes, a pair of dark orbs staring back at me instead of the normal emptiness that greets me when I wake up in the morning.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I ask, hooking a leg over Londyn’s waist and bringing her closer. The dim sunlight streams along her delicate features, making her appear ethereal.
She settles against my chest, toying with a few tufts of hair. “Maybe.”
“Any reason for that?”
“I like watching you sleep. You look so…peaceful.”
She has no idea how true her words are. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept through the night without waking up every few hours. But last night, I didn’t wake up once. If Zeus hadn’t scratched on the door, needing to go out, I’d probably still be asleep.
“I feel at peace,” I exhale. Pinching her chin, I tilt her head back. “Like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. Like you’re exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
She feathers her lips against mine, her kiss sweet and tender, yet just as toe-curling and soul-fulfilling as the way she kissed me last night.