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I bring her down, and when her legs stop trembling, I untie her hands, and slide up her body, tearing away the blindfold, my pulsing thick erection setting between her legs. My eyes meet hers and the heat and intimacy between us is scorching, the trust there is a new level of trust, and we need no words. I press inside her, watching her lashes lower as I stretch her, fill her. “This is where I want to be the rest of my life,” I tell her. “And this is how I want to taste.” Her lips part and I claim her mouth, kissing her, the taste of her on my tongue now on hers. It’s a slow kiss, a passionate kiss, and our bodies begin to sway and pump.
We make love until we snap and suddenly we’re fucking, me driving into her, her legs at my hips, while hers lift into every drive of my cock. The need for this woman is everything, consuming me, and when her sex clenches around me, I’m helpless in a way no one else can make me. I’m shuddering into release while her body quakes around me. I lose all time, and holy hell, it’s fucking beautiful; she’s beautiful, and when we melt into the sated, perfect moment after orgasm, I hold her. Just hold her. That is until I hear her sob. I pull back to look at her.
“It’s not you,” she whispers. “I promise you, it’s nothing you did. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
But I do. It’s like that first time I spanked her when she cried. The adrenaline rush, the fear of the unknown releases endorphins, and the high became a crash, a release of pent-up emotions. I roll us, and pull her to me, under my arm, ready to ride out the storm with her. This is what I wanted. For her to just let go, and when she let go, the walls fall, and she faces what’s on the other side.
She was attacked.
But as she sobs, deep gut-wrenching sobs, her entire body trembling, I think this is more. She’s finally crying over everything she has faced; losing her father, almost losing her mother, her struggles to survive. And so, I hold her even closer, and ride out the storm with her. The way a man should ride out every storm with his woman, his wife. Thankful she finally let me in, thankful she’s finally letting everything else out.
Chapter seventy-three
Cole
Ihold Lori through the storm of her tears and when she finally calms, she doesn’t move. For several minutes, she seems to just melt against me, but she isn’t asleep. I can feel her thinking, and I give her room to breathe, the way she did for me when I was the one dealing with my demons. I stroke her hair, and she presses her hand to her forehead and sits up. “I don’t know what that was.” She rolls away from me and grabs my shirt, pulling it around herself.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, but I catch her hand and sit up, kissing her.
“You okay?”
Her hand settles on my jaw. “After I pee I will be,” she says, offering me a tiny smile. “A girl has to go when a girl has to go.” She tries to pull away, but I catch her fingers and kiss them.
“Hurry back.”
“I will,” she whispers, the humor of moments before gone. She stands up and rushes away.
I stand up and walk into the closet and pull on a pair of pajama bottoms before I pursue Lori, finding the bathroom door shut. I inhale and remind myself to give her space, but after ten minutes, I knock. “You okay in there?”
She opens the door, her dark hair wild from my fingers, but her tears are gone, her smudged make-up with them. “Yes. I’m okay.”
I reach out and snag her fingers. “Come talk to me,” I say, walking backward until I know she’s agreed.
She nods and I lead her back to that lounge-style chair, seating us side by side, staring out at the inky skyline twinkling with a mix of stars and city lights. “I don’t know what that was,” she whispers.
“Everything,” I say. “That was everything finally happening.”
She looks over at me. “It was, wasn’t it?”
I reach over and stroke a piece of hair from her eyes. “Yes. You needed that. I want you to know that you the strongest person I know, but with me, you let down your guard. And I won’t ever betray that, I’ll never hurt you. I’m not ever going to let you down. I’m not ever going to judge you. I’m never going to think because you admit what you feel, or need me, that you are weak or a different person.”
“I don’t know if I even know how to do that. The way I’ve dealt with the hard stuff in life is just to make it go away. Charge forward. Don’t look back.”
“You mean, like me, you shove it all in a box, and then that box pops open without your permission, like mine did. Give it permission, and let’s deal with it. What are those things in your box?”
“My father. What my father did to us still eats me alive. It affected me with you at first, but you’re you. It doesn’t anymore.”
“Are you sure about that? Because after your attack, you pulled that wall back up.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did,” I say. “And that’s my fault. I had my struggles and you did what you do. You stand strong for everyone else. Let’s both try standing together to be strong.”
“We do,” she whispers. “Cole, I have never felt so complete with someone, as I do with you.”
“As I do you, Lori, but that doesn’t mean that years of fears and conditioning just go away. We have to work at this. I know I do, and I am. I told you about my mother. I haven’t told that story to anyone else.”
“I am not holding back.”
