Chapter Thirty-Eight

Michaela

 

We entered my room, not bothering with the lights. Moonglow through the window was enough. Lincoln kissed me like something fragile and delicate when we’d always been hot and unrestrained at this point before, but I needed tender care now—much as I’d never ask.

Toed out of my pumps, I showed him my back.

His mouth on my neck, he slid the zipper down. Peeled my dress off as he kissed and nibbled my skin. It was thrilling to give him control tonight, letting him nudge my limbs however they needed to go to toss my dress aside, slip my bra off my arms, or slide my panties down in a way that raised gooseflesh in their wake.

Never had slow been so erotic.

His attentions left my breaths audible in the room.

He swept me up, laid me on the bed, and started his strip show, inch by inch revealing his perfect body. Jacket, tie, shirt tossed on the chair in the corner. Dress shoes off, belt and waistband unfastened, then his proud cock stretching his boxer briefs.

He caught my gaze before peeling them down his defined legs. I beckoned him to me.

“One second, sweetheart.” He dug his wallet out of his trouser pocket.

“Are you tested?”

He paused with a condom wrapper in hand. “Always clean, yeah.”

“Been with anyone since?”

“Only you.”

“Then I want to feel you.”

He dropped the items and crawled onto the bed. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask for something I didn’t want.”

He tested my readiness with his finger, then moved on top of me, fitting between my legs. Nudging my entrance. I tilted his face my direction, smiled, and kissed him. That melted the last of his reluctance and he slowly slid into me.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. He buried his face in my neck and stilled.

“You okay?”

“I couldn’t imagine how different—”

“Focus on other feelings.”

And kissed him again, sucking his tongue into my mouth to play with. He moaned his approval. Distracting him from his penis worked. He took a deep inhale, then started shallow thrusts. “You’re fucking perfect.”

It felt amazing to have him fully seated inside me. “You feel good, too.”

He grinned and the confident rockstar was back. Whatever sensations initially threatened to overwhelm him were under control and he shifted his focus to me, pulling out all the tricks that worked before. Everything outside this room faded away.

My senses were only filled with Lincoln and his wonderful body.

If we had feelings for each other, you might call it making love.

He came before I did, but quickly recovered, rolled me on my side, and entered me from behind, hardening fully again after a few thrusts. Like the first night, this approach did all sorts of good things inside me and his hand did the rest, starting with my breasts while he nibbled my ear, then drifting down to my clit to strum it like a guitar string.

My moans grew louder, my muscles tighter, his thrusts faster, until I soared on a cry.

The return to earth was a mellow drift into warmth, leaving me languid and malleable.

He stroked my skin like petting a treasured cat. Kissed my shoulder, my neck.

“I’ll sum that up with whoa.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep, sweetheart.”

Good idea. I drifted—don’t know how deep, but there were no dreams.

We were still spooning when I opened my eyes again, his arm wrapped around me, his hand cradling my left breast. The warmth was somehow relaxing.

“Welcome back,” he murmured.

“What time is it?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” I tried to turn my head enough to see him and felt something firm against my tailbone. “Again?”

“I’m snuggling a hot, naked woman. Of course I have an erection. But there’s no rush.”

“Good. I don’t want to move, yet.” Not until I needed to use the bathroom.

He picked up my hand to kiss the back of it, then settled his palm on my belly.

His pinky brushed my scar and my abs tightened.

“Tell me the story of this?” he asked softly. Gently.

Of course I knew he’d ask again if he got reminded of it. If we were intimate.

If I confessed, he wouldn’t look at me the same.

No one did then.

But maybe it was needed. He’d know how broken I really was.

At least, facing away from him in the dark, I didn’t have to see his face.

In the quiet darkness, some things were too harsh for normal conversational volume, so I summoned the courage to whisper words I hadn’t said aloud in years.

“I had a son.”