Page 167 of Ex Somnis

She pulls back and levels me with a look.

“Paul Bennett. I promise you. I’ve got you. Always. And if that binds me to you, I’m glad, because I won’t take it back. Ever. No matter how this ends,” she whispers, snuggling close again, “… or what we have to do, I have you, and you have me, and we both have everyone else, together. I’ll show up for you every day as long as you’ll let me.”

Years of reflex have me wanting to shake my head. To tell her no. I will handle it. But then something clicks. Something that makes my eyes go hot, and my chest constrict as I think about everything this woman has ever done.

“I believe you,” I say, the words sounding as surprised as I feel. Not because I doubted her, but because I doubted myself. My ability to ever trust that someone else could handle things alongside me.

I suck in a shaky breath as the revelation sinks into my bones. “I trust you.”

The three words are not nearly enough to adequately express this epiphany that shouldn’t have been one.

I trust the sun to rise and set. I trust scientific processes and data.

I trust this woman, with her soft heart, capable hands, and extraordinary capacity to love others the way they need to be loved.

How I need to be loved.

“I’ll show up for you, too, darling,” I say, my voice cracking. “Just be patient with me for the rest. I will do my best to let you, to let you sh⁠—”

She leans in and kisses me sweetly, and it feels like thanks and praise all in one.

Her lips are warm, and she tastes faintly of the tea I made her earlier. I cup the back of her neck, thumb stroking the soft skin there, and she sighs into my mouth like she’s melting.

Then the sigh turns into something hungrier. She shifts closer on my lap, straddling me more fully, and the kiss deepens. Her tongue slips against mine, teasing, and I groan low in my throat, the sound vibrating between us. One of my hands slides down her back, pulling her tighter against me until her breasts press into my chest. She rocks her hips once, and I feel the heat of her even through our clothes.

The sweetness burns away, and I want nothing more than to stoke the fire.

I tilt my head and kiss her harder, licking into her mouth, starving for more of her. She whimpers, that perfect little sound that always undoes me, and I swallow it, sucking on her tongue, biting her lower lip hard enough to make her gasp. My hand fists gently in her hair, holding her exactly where I want her while the other grips her hip, encouraging the slow grind of her body against the growing hardness in my lap.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, and she looks at me like she wants to devour me before she kisses down my throat.

My head tips back against the chair, and she shifts off my lap. I snap my head up in time to watch her sink to her knees in front of me. She reaches for my belt, and I freeze, but when she tugs on the buckle, I catch her chin and tilt up her face.

“What are you doing, darling?”

“I want to release some stress.”

I groan. “Lennon.”

“Please?”

She’s still holding my belt loosely, not tugging, but waiting, and the sight of her like that, on her knees asking instead of taking, her whole body angled up toward me like she needs my permission more than she needs air, does something to my composure I am not proud of.

My cock throbs, hard enough that it’s almost painful, straining against my slacks in a way she has to see from down there. Her gaze drops to it once, and her tongue darts out to wet her lip.

Christ.

Brick by brick, everything about her builds me back up to a place I crave.

Control.

“Release some stress,” I repeat. “For you or for me?”

“For us,” she answers immediately, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, hips shifting restlessly against her heels like she can’t sit still with the question hanging between us.

I barely hold back a curse as I lean down to kiss her, slow enough that she has to rise slightly to meet it. “Only if you take that shirt off first,” I say against her mouth. “I want to see you.”

She blushes and glances at the bright lamp over our heads. “Can we maybe dim the lights or⁠—”