Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Us.

I have to make us right.

“Chase the girl …” she whispers.

I grin. “Chase the girl.”

Our lips meet and it feels like the air she ripped from my lungs, that day in the rain, is back. I push the door the rest of the way open, backing her into the room as we continue to kiss.

Gracelyn pulls back, leaving me breathless. She’s really good at it. “I like this,” she whispers, her fingers stroking my beard along my jaw.

“It’s summer. I’m going to shave it.”

“Not yet. Not until I know.”

My fingers find the zipper to her dress and ease it down her back. “Know what?”

Her cheeks flush as her strapless dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but pink panties and high heels. “How it feels.”

My lips press to her shoulder, working their way to her ear as the tips of my fingers feather along her inner thigh. “How it feels here?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she nods. “Yes.”

How did I ever walk away?

She unbuttons my white shirt and slides it off my shoulders, kissing along my chest. With it half off, she takes her time unbuttoning my jeans. The need is almost painful, but the desire for this to last as long as possible wins over. Nothing gets rushed.

Not her lips pressing kisses along my abs.

Not my fingers threading through her long hair.

Not the ease of her panties down her legs.

Not the brush of my beard along her inner thighs.

“Nate …” Her fingers curl into my hair as her heavy eyelids drift shut.

She gives me the best fucking smile as I continue to kiss my way up her body, relearning every subtle peak and valley. The three elephants and stemmed cherry. I grin against her skin as she wiggles beneath me, her pelvis reaching, her need growing.

“God … Nate …” Her back bows as I suck and tease her hard nipple, tugging until her lips part, a deep gasp filling her chest. I’m not sure what brings me the most pleasure—tasting her or watching her.

The slow descent of her fingernails down my back draws a long moan from me as I devour the skin along her neck. She slowly pulls her knees up while curling her fingers into my glutes, guiding me … tempting me.

I pull back and we exchange a look. It’s in her eyes, and I know it’s in mine. It’s a silent nod to cross a line that can’t be uncrossed.

Her forehead tenses as I push into her, the heel of her foot sliding up the back of my leg to my backside, digging into me as she pushes hard to rock her pelvis against mine. My mouth crashes to hers, our tongues reaching for something deeper. We move together with purpose. It’s us. For the first time in too long, it’s not about Morgan and Gabe. It’s about us.

It’s about the lovers we’ve lost, the grief we’ve endured, and every lonely night that felt like a slow loss of the deepest part that makes us … human.

The guilt.

For years, I’ve felt guilty for wanting this, for having everything but this. In the recesses of my conscience, I buried the desire, but it never died.

Now … I can’t stop it.

Gracelyn wraps herself around me like a vine around a tree, searching for new heights—for the light.

We roll as one body. She cages me in with her body over mine, her hair brushing my face, her fingers clawing at the pillow, every breath a whisper of longing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful …” I whisper.

She stops.

Tired eyes open as sweat beads on her brow. Her tongue slides along her lower lip, red and swollen from the bruising demand of my mouth, her cheeks flushed with heat, black mascara smeared below her eyes. We’ve let it build and fade so many times, trying to make this indescribable feeling last; we’re nothing but flesh, sweat, and heat.

My hand snakes around her waist, and I sit up. Her arms encircle my neck, her legs gripping my waist.

“No regrets,” she breathes just before her head dips to the side. The warmth of her tongue on my skin, the graze of her teeth … I’ve never felt so wanted … so needed in this way.

“No regrets,” I say, gripping her ass and moving her over me, faster … harder … until I can’t breathe.

Until my heart escapes my chest.

Until my body moves involuntarily.

Until her nails break the skin on my back and her cries crack through the air.

After the final waves subside and all that’s left is the pounding rhythms between our chests pressed flush, like every other inch of our bodies, I lie back with her. She slides to my side, tucked under my arm, her leg draped over me.

The euphoria settles into the most numbing exhaustion, and we sleep.

*

My eyes peel open around six the next morning as a sliver of light cuts through the tiny gap in the curtains. It illuminates Gracelyn’s back to me—the soft curve of her hip partially covered by the mess of sheets. The tattoo on her neck is visible with her hair fanned out on the pillow above her. I lean forward and press my lips to her inked hockey sticks. She stirs, but just slightly, before releasing a tiny sigh and falling still again.