Michele

Freedom.

It was rich on my tongue, the knowledge that I no longer had anything weighing me down. I’d been living my life for the past five years in little more than a daze, letting myself be ruled by a man who sought to own me.

Now, in a taxicab, I had a very different sort of man beside me. He’d spent most of the ride home telling me about his mother, about her last days and about the whirlwind of emotions he’d gone through with me leaving and planning for a funeral on top of that.

A few moments after he finished speaking, his hand threaded through mine, his thumb caressing my palm. His eyes were dark, watching me, his expression a promise of what was to come. I thought back to that very first day, the day he found me reading a map of New York with confusion all over my face.

I hadn’t been looking for anyone. If I hadn’t met him, I would have continued on, a lonely and pointless existence, waiting for Brandon indefinitely.

And that was just it, wasn’t it? I hadn’t been looking for Iain. I hadn’t been looking for love. It found me.

Love always came when you least expected it.

The taxi stopped, and we got out. Iain paid the cabbie and I followed him up familiar steps and through his front door.

Once inside, we kicked off our shoes and removed our coats. The air was thick between us, our eyes locked on one another as we stood there in his entranceway.

“Come here,” he whispered, his intent clear. Heat washed through me as I took the three short steps to him. When our bodies were nearly touching, he ran a hand through my hair, stopping at the base of my skull. Then he leaned down, his lips hovering inches from mine.

“Kiss me,” I said.

He did. His mouth was warm and soft, and I closed my eyes, letting him take control. Both of his hands snaked through my hair and tugged, and something snapped within me. I pressed against him, my own hands wrapping around his neck, my tongue meeting his in a greedy, urgent kiss. My whole body felt like it had been lit on fire, my nerves singing, begging for him to touch me.

It was not enough. I broke the kiss, panting. “Let’s go to bed. Now.”

Iain grinned. “Eager, are we?”

I ran my hands down his arms. He was still wearing his suit jacket. “You have no idea.”

He took my hand, leading me back to his bedroom. Everything was exactly as I had remembered it, not a thing out of place. It was as if no time at all had passed. When he dropped my hand, I lowered my own to the hem of my dress, my fingers ghosting there.

“Take it off,” he said. His eyes were glued to me, flicking between my face and my hand.

“I will,” I replied, stepping forward. I reached for his tie, loosening it and sliding it off. The sound of fabric on fabric ripped through the room. “I want you to help me.”

Warm hands reached under my dress, dancing up my legs. My core tightened in anticipation, my whole body wanting him to reach for the obvious place, but his fingers stilled, too far away from where I most wanted him to touch me.

“You came back,” he said, his voice so quiet I had to lean in to hear him. “For me.”

“Yes.” I remembered the way he’d said, not even an hour ago, that he loved me. The reverential way in which he’d said it, like it was the truest thing he’d ever known, gave me chills, even now. “I’ve never loved anyone like this. I couldn’t stay away. Not even if I wanted to.”

I thought back to when we’d met. How scared I’d been, of everything. I hadn’t been living, not really. And I’d known, deep down, that my life was going nowhere without something to push me anywhere else.

I’d been a caged bird. A starving bird.

And now?

His blue eyes searched mine, his lips forming into a contagious smile. I traced his jawline with my fingers, loving the feel of his beard against my skin. He was so different from Brandon; Iain would never put me in a cage.

He had set me free. For good.

“I love you,” he said, breaking through my thoughts. “And I want you, right now. Take that dress off.”

I smiled, pulling my dress up from the hem, cool air dancing against my skin as I dropped it to the ground. Iain’s hands jumped immediately to the clasp of my bra, letting it come loose and pulling it off, letting it fall to join my abandoned dress.

“And I love you,” I told him, my voice heavy with emotion. I reached for his suit jacket to slide it off, then pulled his dress shirt from his pants, undoing each button as quickly as I could, my fingers fumbling. I felt his gaze raking over my body as I worked his shirt off. “I’ve been thinking about this for three weeks.”

“Taking my shirt off?” he asked, playfully. But I saw something deeper in his eyes, and my hands stilled on the last button of his shirt.

“Being with you,” I said. “Really… it’s all I’ve thought about since I first saw you.”

Understanding crossed his features, something deep and carnal. It made my breath hitch. I wanted, desperately, for him to be inside me then - I wanted to feel him in the truest way possible, for him to take me, to own me. Once and for all.

He backed me up against the bed, his body hot and hard against mine, intent clear on his face. When the back of my knees bumped up against the mattress, I lay back, my body poised with anticipation as he stood before me momentarily before reaching for his zipper and removing his pants.

When he was naked, he leaned over and pulled my panties down, exposing me completely. Instead of retreating, I spread my legs, a brazen action that only filled me with confidence and lust, especially after the way his expression changed as he watched me do it.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He was on me in a split second, hot and needy, his mouth slanting over mine and his tongue swiping over my lips, seeking entrance. I parted my lips, letting him in, thrusting my hips to meet his, wanting contact in that obvious place. I was trembling beneath him, my body warm and wanting, my breaths coming out in short, rapid bursts against his mouth.

I was ready for him. I’d been ready for weeks. I lifted my hips, my hand reaching for him, guiding him toward my entrance. When I got him there, it felt like home.

He broke the kiss abruptly, looking down to where we were nearly joined. He used his hand to steady himself there, then looked to me, questioning.

“No condom?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want any barriers between us.”

In response, he pushed himself inside of me, and the exquisite fullness of it took my breath away.

I grabbed at his hips, his skin warm on my fingers, and pressed against him, craving that wholeness that only he seemed to be able to give me. I closed my eyes, stars bursting through closed lids, and opened my mouth, a low moan escaping from my throat.

“I love hearing that,” he whispered against my ear, his voice husky. He began to thrust, the strength of his body rocking mine, and all I could do was hold on.

It was as if we were both made for this moment. The moment of coming together, of being parts of one another, of knowing completion. Of knowing that all of it, everything we’d gone through, had been for something.

That our bodies were made for each other, there was no question. Sparks shot across my skin as he thrust into me, reaching into the deepest part of me, red patches forming on his cheeks. I opened my eyes to see that his own were trained on my face, and a sharp coil of pleasure twinged deep within in response.

As if he could read my mind, he reached between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and landing there, two fingers finding a steady rhythm that pulled me so close to the edge I could only fist at the comforter next to me and moan.

He didn’t have to ask me to come for him. I did it, all on my own, my body releasing waves of pure, unbridled pleasure, my entire heart, soul and mind fixated on only one thing.

Iain.