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Ali shivered and smirked. “Lightning bugs.”
Cornell’s hands went to Ali’s hips, an energetic hum tingling his fingertips as he skimmed her sides. “Is this what the first time on prom night is like?” he asked, focusing his eyes on her mouth as her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. He could hear the air escape her mouth.
“Yes,” Ali breathed, and Cornell could feel it, the pull of her voice as his mouth lowered closer to hers. But before their lips even met, Ali let out a pang of anticipation masked as the sweetest, sexiest groan Cornell had ever heard. As grounded, as clear minded as he was so desperate to be, that sound did something to Cornell. It opened a door and he let it all flood throughout his body—the longing, the desire, the guilt, sadness, and anger—all gathering in one place as he kissed her without reservation.
Ali somehow tasted like champagne and Starburst, like beer and Tiramisu, like right and wrong and guilt and absolution. She tastes like forgiveness I don’t deserve.
“Promise. Ali, promise you’ll tell me to stop if you need to. If you want to.” He could stop. He would stop, even though at that moment, Cornell finally didn’t want to. Because the sounds Ali let out when he dropped his mouth greedily to her neck made him press her harder against him, and that only wound Ali’s hands tighter in his hair—something that drove him wild. Cornell knew he wasn’t being fair.
“Promise me,” he said, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing his forehead against the soft skin. I need to hear it. Cornell gnashed his teeth together, determined to hold his pause no matter how amazing Ali smelled, or how warm she was as she arched against him, how familiar and agonizingly good she felt.
Ali’s hands slipped to his shoulders, down his chest between them. “Can I take this off?”
Cornell nodded, his mouth opening as he watched her tug his shirt free from his pants, slipping each button open. Her eyes focused on his chest, and he had to tighten every muscle to keep from shaking when she brushed her fingers across the exposed skin before sliding the shirt off. Ali sighed, returning her hands, resting one over his pounding heart.
Don’t, God, don’t do it.
Ali leaned forward, pressing her lips delicately, brushing them down, painting the scratches that had faded into invisible scars with her words. “I love you,” she whispered after one kiss and, “I trust you,” followed by another.
Cornell squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck me up.
But quickly, the feel of her was lost when she stepped away. He opened his eyes to find Ali had turned. “Take off my dress.”
Hesitantly, Cornell reached out, fumbling slightly with the zipper. The dress fell, pooling at Ali’s feet, but she made no move to turn around.
“Give me your hand.”
Cornell’s hand instinctively left his side, but he clenched it into a tight fist. “Just nothing from behind.”
“Ali—”
“Like this, I can show you. I want to.” Her fingertips fluttered behind her, beckoning him to reach out, to trust her.
Cornell squeezed her hand, wondering if Ali could actually hear the battering of his heart fighting to escape from his rib cage.
Slowly, Ali slid her grasp to his wrist, pulling Cornell’s hand forward, pulling him forward, until there was just a breath of space between his chest and her back, but no space between his aching lower body and hers. He shuddered before jumping when she guided his hand to her pounding chest, and Cornell wondered if it wasn’t nerves for either of them. Maybe their hearts were just missing each other.
“I know everything here,” she whispered, making a small circle. “I know these hands, your hands. They’re special, and they’re safe. They love me.”
Cornell swallowed heavily.
“No one ever took this from you,” she said, pressing Cornell’s hand firmly against her chest. “If anything happens, it’s not coming from here, okay? I promise.”
There was the faintest crack in her voice, and Cornell knew in that moment how strong Ali was. Because Cornell’s body was shaking, wanting to sink—to crumble to his feet and melt into a puddle of the emotion that he drowned in. But Ali was a pillar of strength, continuing to stand despite the crack.
“Watch,” she whispered. “Watch how much I love and trust you.”
From above, Cornell watched as Ali slid his hand across, molding his palm to cup her breast. His other hand flew to her hip to steady himself, so overcome by the feel of her in his hand, by the bubble of emotion that encapsulated them.
“Ali,” Cornell breathed out as she lay her head back. She squeezed his hand so she filled him, both of them simultaneously releasing a soft moan. Cornell was so entranced watching her direct and guide his touch that he didn’t realize that her other hand went to his until she began sliding it down her stomach.
When a whimper left her lips, Cornell nearly had to put an end to it, but Ali held his hand firmly and guided it to her underwear. “I don’t want to live another second knowing that your touch wasn’t the last touch,” she whispered breathily as Cornell’s fingertips met the silky fabric.
Cornell let her press his hand firmer into her lower abdomen until one finger slipped beneath, followed by another. Watching, he had no idea who was moving what. Did her hand push his lower? Did he lead them there where now his palm pressed against her—flesh to flesh?
They both stilled, his heart pounding against her back.
Ali squeezed both of his hands, her hips rocking.
“Please.” Ali’s voice was a heavy whisper, and she began to shake, the vibration only adding to the sensory overload. Angling her head up, Cornell’s bottom lip brushed against her head, dusting her hair with a groan as she guided one of his fingers inside of her. “Take me back.”
Holy fuck.
Cornell’s breath hitched.
“Cornell,” Ali groaned as she began to move against his hand. She abandoned her grasp and reached up to touch his face. “Take us back.”
Withdrawing his hand and ignoring her whimper, Cornell turned Ali around. He brushed his thumb against her lips as he returned to her warmth. Ali clutched at his arms before snaking them up around his neck with a nod as if she understood what Cornell was thinking.
This kind of healing had to come face-to-face, heart-to-heart.
