Lean On Me #Wattys2016

Part 42

Ashlyn

I want to read further. I want to dive into the story that has filled his time while I've been at home with thoughts consumed by his recovery and what could be. Instead I fling my arms around his neck, pulling him to me for a kiss that I've been waiting for all night. His hand finds it's way into my hair like he needs to be able to hold me even when something so important is still between us. I pull back and set it aside on the table so I can touch his lips again.

"Aren't you going to wait..." he can't finish before I kiss him. I close my eyes because our faces are so close together I can see nothing with them open. My hands are on his face, trailing along his beard—the scruffy part of him I've missed so much. Our pace is quick at first, grabbing for each other and holding on to whatever we can so that our bodies won't fall apart.

"I love you," I say when he pulls away to catch his breath, but that only makes him come back for more. I giggle as he smiles against my mouth, kissing and seeking the connection that has been so close before and yet so far away in the big picture.

"I love you," he confesses as if he hasn't already put it in writing. His hand moves up to my jaw, trailing softly as his mouth meets mine over and over again. His warm palm cups my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek until my insides are melted like the chocolate in a hot cookie. I kick off my heels and move to kneel on the couch, and he toes off his shoes and takes his socks off quickly, watching as I rise up on my knees to lift my dress over my head. His eyes take me in, wandering over every inch of my exposed skin, but always finding my own gaze as if he can't decide if he wants to look at my skin or my soul.

He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side and I kiss his neck, loving the slow swallow of his throat as his skin heats beneath my mouth. "God, Ashlyn," he whispers. I tuck my hand into the waist of his paints and unbutton them, sliding down the zipper with his help as he moves up onto his knees as well. He pushes them down and kicks them off and we are left just inches from each other and only a few items of clothing away from being totally bare.

I hook my thumbs into the lacey waistband of my panties and feel my teeth dig into my bottom lip as I watch his eyes grow heavy with lust and his cheeks warm and pink with the flush of desire. Next I unsnap my bra and toss it somewhere near his shirt on the growing pile of clothing on his floor.

I can see the bulge in his boxers showing me just how much he likes seeing me bare to him, but I hesitate to reach out even when it is all I can seem to think about. I want to feel him touch me and I want my hands all over him. I want to know what each inch of his flesh feels like beneath my fingers and palms. I want so many things with this man, but I know that he has to show me it all in his time.

His thumbs dip beneath the black elastic waist of his boxers and he keeps my gaze as he slips them down, slowly and at an exquisitely torturous pace. When I see the first peek of smooth skin as his scar begins to appear, I look up to his face, needing him to know if he isn't ready for this yet I can wait. But he just lifts one eyebrow and the stares down at his boxers and then back as if to silently tease me for not watching the show. I smile and return my eyes to right where they want to be. When he pushes them down the length of his thighs and stands to remove them completely, I'm not sure I'll be able to get past how unexpected his courage is and how proud I am of him for overcoming something so difficult.

When we are both naked, he reaches out and touches my face softly, moving slowly into the space between is and holding me at my cheek and waist. His kisses slow down now, but the intensity of all the feelings and every physical sensation feels amplified when the mood switches from lust to love.

He lays me back gently, stretching his long, muscular body above me and settling in between my legs. He doesn't seem in a rush to push inside; instead he pulls back and looks at my face, raining small kisses on my lips and neck as he brushes the hair from my forehead. My legs spread wider so that I can feel more of his body on mine. It's a weight that feels secure and grounding. I link my arm around his neck and close my eyes, loving it when he kisses a trail down my neck and up the other side until he reaches my ear and attests, "I really, really love you." And I fall deeper in love with each syllable he speaks. 

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