Page 75 of Penn

“I love you, Dixie,” he says, his voice quiet. “I want you and this baby. As far as I’m concerned, he’s been mine since we first made love. Maybe before then.”

He really does want us. Both of us. And this is the most beautiful declaration I could have asked for. “I love you, too.”

“I didn’t tell you to pressure you into saying it back—”

“You didn’t. In fact, you’ve gone out of your way to make sure I never felt that way.” Smiling up at him, I let the tears fall. “Your only goal has been making me feel safe and cared for, and that’s exactly how I feel.”

Penn cups my face. “That’s all I want you to ever feel, Dixie.”

I kiss him, and it starts slow and grateful. Then it deepens when his hand slides into my hair and cups the back of my head. I can taste the coffee he always drinks before I get up because I’m jealous I can’t have it mixed with the salt of my tears. His other hand moves down my back and settles at my waist, pulling me as close as possible with the baby between us.

We break apart, and he pants. “Tell me this means you’re staying.”

“I’m here as long as you want me, Penn,” I say. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

“Thank God,” he says, lifting me bridal style with an ease I didn’t think was possible.

Carrying me into the bedroom, he sets me down and pulls his shirt over his head. I do the same, not feeling self-conscious for the first time. He loves me, but more than that, he loves my son. He’s been here from the very beginning, and I can finally trust he’ll stay.

His eyes darken as they travel over my skin, and the tent in his sweatpants makes my breathing quicken. Something about seeing Penn turned on by me makes me damn near melt. No one has ever made me feel so wanted in my entire life.

He steps out of his sweatpants, and I shimmy from side to side to remove my shorts, both of us completely naked together. Reaching over, he places pillows behind me and eases me back before sinking to his knees.

“You always start this way,” I say, smirking over the swells of my breasts and stomach as he looks up from between my thighs.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, but I’ve never been with a guy who voluntarily does this. This often.”

Chuckling, he spreads my legs apart. “I fucking love it.”

“Liar,” I joke.

“Never to you,” he whispers before dipping his head and diving right in.

Penn has figured out exactly what I like and need, and his tongue moves expertly. He knows how to build me up quickly, where to apply pressure, and when to use his hands. My orgasms come quicker than when I pleasure myself, and I don’t know how this is real life.

“Penn!” I cry out, reaching down to massage his scalp.

Kissing the inside of my thigh, he slowly makes his way up my body, paying special attention to my chest. He kisses and sucks and swirls his tongue around my hard nipples, and it drives me wild. I arch into him, loving how nothing about this feels hurried. Like we have all the time in the world.

I run my hands over the muscles of his back, and he shivers under my touch. He’s finally letting the control he holds onto so easily slip, and he groans against my skin, making me shiver.

He stands up, and I expect him to move me further on the bed. Instead, he grabs my thighs and holds them against his hips as he slowly eases inside me. The pillows behind me help support me and avoid too much pressure on my lower back, and it feels different than all the times we’ve come together before.

There’s heat and need, but there’s also certainty. Connection. Love.

I hold onto his biceps as he thrusts, meeting him motion for motion. He drives deep inside me, and it feels beyond good. Amazing. Divine.

His lips find mine, and I cup his face as we come together slowly and with purpose. We move together like we’ve known each other forever, and I almost cry at the realization that this is what it feels like when we’re no longer holding any part of ourselves back.

“Dixie,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I love you,” I say, my muscles clenching.

I do. I really, truly do, and I think Penn might be the first man who ever really loved me. In any form.

“Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs, thrusting harder as I reach a hand down to rub my clit. “Come, baby. I’m so fucking close, but I need to feel you.”