It didn’t work, because he slid his arms around my hips and hugged me to him, pulled me between his knees and laid his face on my belly. I stroked his hair, felt the power of holding him there against our baby, the way he was embracing us both. I thought I felt a tremor in his arms as he held me, held us. I slipped through his arms and knelt in front of him. I tugged his shirt up and he lifted his arms, let me remove it. I pressed my hand over the lines of ink on his chest.
“I want another line here. I want the coordinates of that cabin where we were first together, and I want the date our child is born,” I said.
Tyler covered my hand with his, “I want that, too,” he said. Then he lifted my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, just like the first time. I shuddered, bumped my lips against his as he looked at me.
I ringed my arms around his neck, “I heard you like this,” I said.
He enclosed me in his arms, brought me to his chest.
“I can’t believe I have you. You came back here.”
“This is my apartment,” I joked, burrowing into his bare chest like I was finally home.
“To me. You came back to me, dammit,” he said roughly, and tipped my face up and kissed me.
That kiss burned away everything in between, all the fear and the loneliness and the strange, strong conviction that I was meant to be alone. All I felt and saw was the blazing connection between us. It was like a bridge of lightning stretching from our chests. That was how I envisioned it, crackling with life.
His tender kiss grew sloppy. I fumbled with his jeans. My knuckles brushed the bulge in his pants, making him groan. I broke the kiss to unzip him, but his hands went to my breasts and then his mouth. My nipples grew tight and my breath caught in my throat. I let him pull me into his lap, his hand on my spine as he worked my nipple in his mouth. My body throbbed with sensitivity and need, the ache of desire heavy between my legs. I arched my back, ran my hands over his hair.
“You got a haircut,” I said, breathless, “it wasn’t too long. I liked when I could—could grip your hair, Ty.”
“Oh God,” he said, releasing my nipple. “If you keep doing that I’m not going to last long. You had your arms around my neck, then you called me Ty. If you could pull on my hair, I swear to God I’d come right now.”
“No way,” I said, “I guarantee I’m closer than you are.”
“I’d take that bet.”
Tyler took my hand and eased it into the front of his jeans so I could free his thick erection. I admit I caught my breath when I felt how hard he was, how big in my hand. I leaned in to rub my mouth against his. “I’m so glad you can feel pleasure now, Ty,” I whispered mischievously. He groaned.
With one motion, he rolled me onto my back, levering himself above me. I never released him with my hand. He dipped his head and kissed my neck, making me writhe and say stupid things like, ‘oh yeah, there, don’t stop’. His laugh was hot against my skin.
“Do you talk to your vibrator like that?” he teased, “is that what you’ve been doing since we broke up?”
“No!” I said emphatically, my head thrashing on the bed from the pleasure building in me, “I couldn’t. Anytime I would try, I’d just end up crying for you.”
“No,” he said, “we can’t have that. Tell me later how much that happened, and I’ll make it up to you. For every time you missed me and needed me.”
“Why would you do that? I left you you. You don’t have anything to make up for. I do,” I said, bewildered.
“Because I love you,” he said. He said it so easily, like breathing. It hit me so hard that I lay back on the bed, covered my face. I was sad, ashamed, knew I had hurt him.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “when you said it before I thought it was just something you said, something men said to get in your pants before they leave you. It’s an insult to you that I thought that. I’m sorry I didn’t—answer you like I should have.”
Tyler rolled off of me, pulled me into his arms, “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t something you could hear at the time, not the way I mean it. You had some ugly voices screaming in your ear where you couldn’t even hear me. But you hear me now. Here,” he pulled my fingers from my face, “I can see it in your eyes. You look—heartbroken,” he said. He kissed me. “I forgive you.”
“No,” I said, “I can’t.”
“You can,” he insisted. I shook my head.
“I hurt you so much. I didn’t believe in you, in us at all. I’m so sorry. I can never make that up to you.”
“Sure you can. You’re lying there crying tears for me, which I never want you to do. And you’re going to have my baby. I think that covers it.”
“No,” I said, “what can I ever do to,”
“You can let me love you. Let me make love to you now. Let me be the right one.”
“You are the one Tyler. I know that now.” Tyler moved his hand down my belly to cup my mound, petting and stroking with his long fingers between my legs. I rose to meet his every stroke, those long fingers going deep, touching me deftly, curling and rubbing until I writhed and bucked against his hand. He felt so good inside me that I was clenching around him, starting to come already. I bucked my hips trying to get the pressure I needed. Teasingly, he ran his calloused thumb over my clit one time, too lightly, but still enough to make angels sing, I was pretty sure.
“You are soaking for me,” he said, “I love that. How much you want me.”
“I love the way you touch me, Ty,” I said.
“Tell me you love me,” he said.
I hesitated.
“Say it,” he said, fingers working me, eyes locked on mine.
“I love you!” I burst out. As I said it, practically wailed it, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, hard and heavy, big inside me and stretching me to hold him all.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered,
He sank into my set softness and rocked and thrust, building a rhythm I could echo with my rising hips, with my leg wrapped around him, holding him closer to me. His mouth fixed on my nipple, worrying it and nipping it playfully. With each heavy thrust of his, I felt my body rock in rhythm, carry his pounding in my body, the sweetness and the fire of it. Short cries started coming from me, and sweat slicked our bodies. I wanted it forever.
“Ty! Ty!” I whimpered as my body went rigid, clamping down on him tightly, my arms around him. I felt my nails scrape his back as he thrust into me and came with a cry.
“I love you,” I whispered, “I’m so in love with you. I’m sorry I got scared. I was afraid you didn’t want me. Not for real. But the way you took care of me when I was faint, that’s what made me see. More than anything you said.”
“I told you I wasn’t good with words. But know this. I love you, Layla.”
He kissed me and stroked my trembling body. Shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure, I curled up in his arms. As I nestled there and he caressed my face, I hugged him and said, “Will you move in here with me? I know it’s a big step but—”
“No,” he said.
“No? Oh. Okay,” I said, deflated.