“Hi,” he says a long silent minute later.
“Hi.” I cross the room to put the mats away, close to where he’s standing. “Why are you here, Grant?” I ask while I force myself to keep breathing.
For once he looks nervous. Mr. Self-Possessed is not in the house tonight. He runs a hand over his short hair. It’s grown out quite a bit, reminding me that I haven’t seen him in three weeks. Sounds like nothing, feels like an eternity. Still, he looks sexier than he has the right to look.
“Because I love you.”
His voice is low and tentative. My head snaps up and I drop the mats that I was organizing in a neat pile.
He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and casts his gaze onto the floor. A man humbled. “I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”
“I can’t believe you would use that against me.”
His head comes up and his eyes, burning electric blue, slam into mine. “I’m not using anything.” He steps closer. He’s three feet away and my first instinct is to step back. I know that if he touches me, I’ll lose my power––he’s kryptonite. Shit. Wrong superhero but whatever. He makes me weak.
“Yeah. I love you, too. But why are you here?” I say raising my voice.
His head tips back and jaw hardens. He shakes his head. He’s a pressure cooker ready to blow, his eyes glassy and a little wild.
“Goddammit! Because you’ve settled into my bones in a place so deep I can’t dig you out.” The stark light illuminates his hurt, his devastation. Damage that I caused. He advances until he’s a foot away, wrapping his hand gently behind my neck. “And I’ve tried. Trust me, I’ve tried…I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’ve lost ten pounds when I should be gaining right now. I can’t think of anything else. I miss Sam…”
My heart bleeds for him. I understand why he’s struggling. He’s dealing with an addiction and he needs to be the one to man up and make the decision to give it up.
I love this man with everything. Even now. Probably forever. But I won’t relieve his pain only to inflict it upon myself.
He leans in and peppers my mouth with tender kisses that speak of love not lust. Loneliness and longing. His big body creeps closer and closer by inches until I’m clinging to him and we’re making out like it’s the end of the world. And the more he gets a taste, the more his appetite demands––his kisses turning harder, more possessive, needier.
He pushes me down on the stack of mats, makes space for himself between my legs, and grinds against me. I can feel every ridge and vein he’s so hard. I’m close to coming through our clothes when he stops and pulls back, resting on his knees.
“I have to have you, baby. I have to,” he says between stealing kisses and yanking on my leggings. And even though I know I shouldn’t, that he might get the wrong impression that I’m caving, I do––because I love him.
He’s falling apart at the seams and if seeking comfort in my body helps him get his bearings, grounds him, then he can have me. That’s what love is.
“Close the door,” I tell him, holding his bright gaze.
He’s up immediately. Striding to the industrial-style sliding door, he slams it shut with more force than necessary and returns quickly, approaching with an all consuming hunger in his eyes I have never seen on him before. Hunger and need pushed to the point of desperation. And on Grant, it almost makes me pause.
He shoves his pants and underwear down to his knees, his erection solid and bobbing between his legs before he even reaches the mats.
“I love you….” he rasps, his chest rising and falling with each deep, agitated breath he takes. Grasping the waistband of my yoga leggings, he pulls them complete off. “I love you more than anything. You’re the first person I’ve ever said that to.” He lowers his body over mine, pelvis kissing pelvis, and thrusts inside of me after only two brushes of the head of his penis at my entrance.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.” The confessions keep coming and with each one a little bit of my resolve gets chipped away.
Once he’s inside of me he calms down, instinct and memory taking over. We’re so good together. It’s been like this since the first night. Anticipating my needs. Giving and giving.
He changes the angle of his hips and grips my thigh, keeping it high around his waist so his pubic bone hits my sweet spot. This man hits sweet spots I didn’t even know I had.
With every thrust, he looks into my eyes. His lips murmuring the sweetest words. That I’m beautiful and he loves me. How he can’t live without me.