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“Say things like what?” Now Savannah was confused. She squinted in Fallon’s direction, trying to pick up on any hint as to what the hell Fallon was even talking about.
“It’s not my responsibility to break your bad self-esteem.”
“I never asked you to,” Savannah quipped back.
“You didn’t.” Fallon nodded, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “You didn’t, but I can’t ignore the way you think aboutyourself sometimes. It’s degrading, humiliating, the flat out lies you tell yourself.”
A warmth bloomed in Savannah’s chest before it stopped suddenly just at her shoulders. “Lies?”
“Yes. Lies,” Fallon agreed.
Savannah sat more confused now than ever. Fallon was adorable with her mismatched buttons, her disheveled appearance from what they’d started and didn’t finish. But that didn’t fully explain why Savannah was more attracted to her now than ever before.
“I don’t know if this is from Forrest or if it’s something you’ve believed about yourself before him or after him, but it’s not true. Bodies change as we get older, they change when we make babies, they change when we go through different life cycles. But your body is stunning.”
Fallon straightened her shoulders, raising her chin. She stared directly at Savannah, not giving an inch in her argument. She was going to war over this, and Savannah could either fight her or she could succumb to the fact that perhaps Fallon was right.
“Your body moves in the ways it's supposed to. It gives you—and me—pleasure in the beautiful moments that we have together. Your body is only one part of who you are. The rest is a woman who has a problem with caring too deeply and too hard for people. People that she should care for, like Brinley and Kyla, and people that she shouldn’t care for.”
“Like you?” Savannah interrupted, her ask small and meek, but she wanted to know if that’s who she was thinking of. If this was Fallon’s way of saying that she wasn’t good enough for whatever it was they were building together.
Shaking her head, Fallon stepped closer to the bed and took Savannah’s hand in her own. Fallon’s fingers were chilled, andSavannah squeezed them to warm them up, keeping them firmly locked in her hand.
“No, like an empty tombstone of a murderer because he never had any flowers.” Fallon raised Savannah’s hand up, kissing the backs of her knuckles. “Like the wife he murdered who you’ve never met.” Fallon bent down and pressed a kiss to Savannah’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Savannah breathed relief. It flooded into her body, wrapped up her soul, and held her tenderly. Lifting her free hand, she cupped Fallon’s cheek and pulled her in for a long embrace. She held on, keeping them connected for as long as she could.
Moving back slightly, Fallon whispered, “I’m not perfect.”
“I’m not either,” Savannah answered. “And I don’t want to be with someone who thinks they’re perfect.” She’d been there and done that with Forrest, and that had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life. “I don’t need you to be perfect.”
“Good.” Fallon moved in again, kissing her and then deepening that kiss. Fallon’s tongue traced the curve of Savannah’s lower lip before sliding into her mouth and tangling with Savannah’s.
Savannah moaned, threading her fingers into Fallon’s hair and pulling her down onto the bed. She opened herself to Fallon, letting Fallon’s compassion fill her. Fallon was soft in ways Savannah had never anticipated, especially when they’d first met, when she’d been cold and aloof. But that hadn’t been the true Fallon at all, had it?
“Fallon,” Savannah broke the kiss and put a hand on Fallon’s shoulder, pushing her back slightly. Fallon’s lips were swollen, slightly parted, and she stared at Savannah with curiosity, not fear. Reaching up, Savannah undoing the buttons on Fallon’s shirt. “You mismatched your buttons.”
“I was in an angry tizzy,” Fallon responded, her voice husky as she reached up to help Savannah.
Savannah pushed Fallon’s hands to the sides, indicating that she wanted to undress Fallon. Once the buttons were undone, Savannah pressed her hand flat to Fallon’s stomach before pushing upward and covering her right breast. Savannah massaged Fallon’s breast through her bra, smiling when her nipple hardened under the touch.
“Why were you so mad?”
Fallon hummed, which turned into a moan. Savannah dropped her free hand to Fallon’s waist and pulled the snaps and zippers on her slacks, easily pushing the fabric over Fallon’s hips and revealing the practical cotton thong she had on.
“Fallon?”
“Hmm?”
“Why were you so mad?” Savannah repeated.
“Because you keep telling yourself lies.” Fallon rocked her hips closer to Savannah, seeking more touch.
Savannah’s heart raced. She’d never been the initiator when it came to sex with Forrest, not like this. She’d never wanted to have that kind of control, not that he’d let her. And yet with Fallon, even after their intense argument, it felt natural. It felt perfect. Sliding Fallon’s shirt off her shoulders, Savannah reached behind Fallon’s back and flicked the clasp of her bra. Without hesitating, she moved in and covered that hardened nipple with her lips.
Fallon grunted. She slid her hands along Savannah’s shoulders and into her hair.
“M-maybe not because you keep telling them to yourself,” Fallon said, struggling to speak. “But because you keep believing them.” She ended with a groan as Savannah flicked her nipple with her tongue.
