Page 93 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

Lucas instantly lets go of my hands. He rolls to his back, both hands now at his sides. “We can stop. I have no expectations here. And I⁠—”

“No.” I smile as I move to straddle him. The movements are easy, familiar. Six years without sex and it instantly feels so natural, to be on top of him, his hips arching slightly into my core. I lean down to kiss him. “It’s nothing traumatizing, I just . . . Could you cede control? For now?”

“Whatever you want,” Lucas tells me. He thrusts against me ever so slightly before grunting out a tortured, “Sorry.” He raises one long arm to cover his face and lets out a long breath.

I’ve never asked for this before, never would have thought it’d be a turn-on. I wanted nothing more than a plausible excuse to remain partially clothed during sex, but seeing Lucas, with his new muscles and chiseled chest peeking through the half-unbuttoned shirt, lying there, forcing himself to keep still even as he tries (and mostly fails) to get his labored breathing under control, watching the way his hands clench and unclench is . . . hot.

I leave the shoulder straps down so that part of my sundress still covers the rash on my torso and gently undulate into him, across the layers of clothing. “Though I think we’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Yes.” Lucas’s eyes open finally, an expression of pleasure-pain passing across his face as he refocuses on me in a way that’s visibly effortful.

I move off of him and we race to undress. I twist out of my underwear and unhook my bra as Lucas strips himself of his pants and boxers. I’m pretty sure he loses a button in his haste, using one arm to rip a shirt (that has buttons, not all of which have been undone) over his head.

He’s naked and it’s impossible not to notice the ways Lucas has changed. I was attracted to him six years ago, when he was overly lean and made up of pointy elbows. But now that he’s all chiseled abs and rock-hard thighs?

Fuck my life.

I climb over him, stopping to run my hands along his chest as I settle the dress in back of us. It’s a bit awkward, but the dress obscures the bits I need it to, almost like a veil.

Lucas closes his eyes as if in pain, jutting against my thigh briefly before he says, “I have a condom in my wallet.”

I don’t like to think about what that means, that Lucas is the type of man who has sex regularly enough to carry condoms in his wallet. Before, we’d bought and stored them together, as a shared commodity.

But more importantly, I understand that our time together is countable. Discrete. Precious and rare.

“I’m clean.” I lick my lips, reaching down to position him so that he’s poised at my entrance, bathed in the wetness of my arousal. No need to tell him there’s been no one since him, but that prior to being diagnosed with lupus, I’d had whole panels of testing completed.

“There hasn’t been anyone in years,” Lucas admits. “But we’re not talking about the past, remember?”

He shifts so that his cock brushes against my clit, eliciting a moan I can’t stop. I arch my body back a little, closing my eyes in anticipation. His hands clamp on my hips to steady me. “Is this . . . okay? I don’t want to do anything—” His words cut off as I lean forward to rub my breasts along his chest.

“Yes. Anywhere over my clothes. Anywhere already unclothed.”

It’s difficult to finish the sentence given Lucas’s hands have started to roam along the new guidelines. He reaches for my breasts with one hand as his other anchors me to his hips.

“I’m on the mini pill.” My voice comes out as a whisper, and I purposefully grind down on him, to tempt him.

He reaches down and a moment later his cock is right there. His tip is inside and the juxtaposition has my body clenching around the emptiness, the ache that only Lucas can fill.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Lucas doesn’t hesitate and he doesn’t enter me slowly, as he always, always was careful to do in the past. Released from needing to wait or hold back, he pushes into me completely, his hands at my hips gripping almost painfully. It is so fast and Lucas is so large that there’s a moment of discomfort, when it feels too overwhelming, as if my flesh is no longer capable of stretching to accommodate him.

But then the moment is over and whatever minor pain there was merges with the incomparable joy that is Lucas inside me, Lucas thrusting into me. I grind down on him, wishing there was a more elegant way I could merge his body directly into mine, wishing I could make this last forever, knowing I’m already close to the edge.

“You are so perfect,” he mutters.

I lean down into him, changing the angle, and we both moan as he tries to still me, to regain a semblance of control, whispering that he’s not going to last, that he’s missed me, craved this. There is a feral quality to his movements, as if he can’t control himself. And I find that not only do I not mind, I’m reveling in the way he reaches for me, molding my lips to his, breathing into my neck and biting me lightly.

“We have to slow down,” he breathes against my neck.

And I clench around him deliberately before moving myself up and down his length, watching as his eyes drift closed, his breathing ragged. “Please don’t,” I say, not knowing how else to urge him on.

I fuse my lips to his, and I can almost feel the relief that courses through him.

Lucas reaches down between our bodies and presses on my clit, and because this is Lucas, and no one knows my body better than he does, that’s all it takes. I rip my lips from his so that I don’t bite him as I explode, my scream cut off as he kisses me again, fucking me through my orgasm, shuddering and emptying himself within me just a moment later.