Breathe with Me (With Me in Seattle 7)

I’m not wearing underwear.

“Me crying turns you on?” she asks in surprise, staring at my semi-hard cock.

“You stripping me down turns me on, Mer. Always.” I chuckle and pull her shirt over her head. “That hasn’t changed since we were seventeen.”

“You’re scraped up pretty good back here,” she says when she makes me turn around. She presses a sweet kiss to my shoulder blade before leading me into the shower. She didn’t set it too hot, not too cold, but just perfect so when it slides over the cuts and scrapes the stinging isn’t too bad.

“I’m going to wash you,” she informs me softly.

“I like it when you take care of me,” I murmur.

Her hands glide gently over my body, cleaning the brown dried blood and dirt from my arms and hands, washing the blood out of my hair, and when all is said and done, and we’re both dry, she examines me one more time.

“See? It’s not so bad now that I’m cleaned up.”

“You must be really sore.”

So fucking sore.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Come on.” She leads me back to her bedroom, pulls the covers back on her bed and motions for me to lie down.

“It’s mid-afternoon, Mer.”

She simply raises a brow. I sigh and climb onto the bed, and grin happily when she joins me. She picks up my right hand, kisses the scratches on my palm, then cradles her small, smooth cheek, nuzzling my palm. She works her way up my arm to my shoulder, kissing each red spot.

“Are you going to kiss all my boo-boo’s?”

“Yes.”

Finally, she straddles my lap and pushes her fingers into my hair, examining my scalp more closely than any of the nurses or doctors at the hospital did.

“You must have a headache.”

“They gave me something for it,” I reply and close my eyes on a sigh when she continues to soothingly brush my hair with her fingers. “You don’t ever have to stop doing that.”

She kisses my nose and then my forehead. Her warm, smooth, toned body is pressed to mine, her amazing breasts in my face, and I can’t stand it any longer. I glide my hands up her thighs, over her ass and up her back, making her purr low in her throat.

God, that’s a fucking sexy sound.

My cock twitches against her folds, sliding along her clit. She bites her lip and gazes down at me with lust-filled eyes.

“You’re hurt,” she whispers.

“I’m never too hurt for this.”

I begin to flip our position, but she presses her hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place.

“No. Let me.” She smiles slowly as she lifts up, reaches between us and guides me inside her slowly. God, every single time is like the first time. She’s so fucking tight and sweet. “Don’t move,” she says.

“That’s impossible.”

“No it’s not.” She leans down to kiss me, caresses my cheeks and neck with her fingertips and begins to circle her hips effortlessly. “I’m sorry I got scared.”

“Don’t leave me again.” Ever.

She shakes her head and kisses me, licks my lower lip and kisses me again, deeper now. My cock pulses inside her. I want to grip onto her hips and drive inside her over and over, but I wait, knowing that she’s comforting us both.

Her hands glide to my arms and she holds on as she begins to ride me. Jesus, I’m not even moving and I’m not going to last.

“God, M,” I mutter. “Your body is amazing.” It’s true. Her firm, round breasts, tight stomach, full hips all make me weak in the knees. But it’s her heart that has had me in its grip for more than a decade.

“Love you,” she whispers and tucks her face in my neck as she picks up speed.

“Can I move now?”

“Yes, please.”

I roll her to her back without breaking our precious contact and cradle her shoulders and head in my hands, tip my forehead against hers as I move in slow, earnest strokes.

“Love you,” I say, my lips against hers. “Always.”

Epilogue

Three months later…

~Meredith~

“Why are you acting so weird?” I ask Jax and help one of the littlest girls tie her dance shoes.

“I’m not.” He won’t look me in the eye, which spells lie with a capital L.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Jax, something’s up. Is everything okay with Mr. Lovey Pants?”

Strong arms wrap around my shoulders from behind and Logan presses a kiss to my temple. “Mr. Lovey Pants is fine.”

“Hey, handsome.” I grin up at the man that’s quickly become a good friend of mine. He’s perfect for my Jax.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he replies flirtatiously.

“Get your hands off my man, potato chip,” Jax growls with a glare, making me laugh.

“He only has eyes for you,” I assure Jax and brush my fingertip over the ring on Logan’s left hand. “I love the rings you guys chose. Marriage looks good on both of you.”

They grin at each other, love and humor and understanding floating between them, making my heart catch. Their wedding was absolutely beautiful.

“I’m sorry that we scheduled this recital for the same weekend you’re moving the rest of your things.” I cringe and offer Logan a sympathetic smile.

“It’s fine. My dad is keeping an eye on the movers.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Jax says. “And you didn’t have to hire movers. I don’t have that much stuff.”

“Well, with movers you didn’t have to try to squeeze in time between choreography and dance recitals to pack your stuff, and I wouldn’t miss this recital for the world.” He smiles down at me. “How do you like your new kitchen?”

I smile widely as I think of my beautiful kitchen, complete with the insanely awesome and insanely expensive wine cooler I wanted. “I love it. You and Jax have to come for dinner soon. We’d love to have you.”

“Sounds great. Have you told him?” Logan asks with a low voice, his blue eyes shining behind his sexy glasses.

“Tonight,” I reply.

Logan kisses Jax’s cheek, then mine, and grins. “Good luck with that. I’ll be out in the audience with the others.”

“I can’t believe the entire Williams and Montgomery families came,” I mutter and count heads. The little girls are all abuzz with excitement, admiring each other’s pretty outfits and thrilled that they get to wear red lipstick.