---

I close the door behind me and press my forehead against it. What am I doing? I feel so many contradictions in this moment.

My whole body is a live wire. Every single nerve ending is aroused. That conversation went easier than I expected. But everything between us has always been so easy.

And all I can think about is how badly I want to be close to him. How much I need him.

Why have I turned him away?

I rub my hand across my neck, and touch the spot that is still wet from his tongue. This is crazy.

I start to open the door when it flies open. Dean is standing there, and I know he has been the whole time. He can’t leave me anymore than I can let him go. His hands are balled into fists by his side and his eyes are blazing.

He looks so beautiful.

“Uh, Dean? What’s going on?” I stammer.

My pulse is beating a flagrant staccato and my body is on high alert. And yet, I take a step toward him. There is a pull, some invisible tether, reeling me closer to him.

He steps toward me, too. His stride is long and aggressive. He expression is furious, and yet all I feel is a thrill of anticipation.

“I'm not going to walk down the hall. I'm not going to sleep in the room next to yours and wait. Fuck waiting. I don’t know if when I go to sleep tonight, I'm going to open my eyes tomorrow. Nothing is promised. And I'm not spending one more day apart from you.” His voice is raspy, his eyes burn into me, and my mouth positively waters.

He closes the gap between us and spans my waist with both of his hands. He bends slightly so that we’re nose to nose. His eyes capture mine and refuse to let go. In them, I see my own heart’s song. One of need, impatience, and love. Right now, life and love are deciding for us.

“I know you want to take things slowly, but we have wasted thirteen years. We have let enough come between us, and I'm done.”

He looks more earnest than I have ever seen him. His heart is being held out to me, he's offering himself to me. And I'm going to reach out and grab him.

His lips come so close to mine that as he speaks, they touch.

“I know one thing, and only one thing, for certain, and that is I was placed on this earth to love you.”

My heart is ready to combust, my hands slide up his chest and loop around his neck.

“I'm not leaving this room. I know you don’t want me to go. You can’t say no to me anymore than I can say no to you,” he murmurs.

He starts to brush his mouth against mine, back and forth, so softly, coaxing me.

I'm breathing hard through my nostrils, trying to catch my breath and keep up with my emotions.

“Do you feel well enough for me to make love to you?” Dean asks me, his voice tender, his breath hot as it washes over me.

A few minutes ago, I was sure keeping him at arm’s length was the right thing to do. But now, I don’t think anything has ever felt as right as he does in my arms.

We were inevitable. We’ve just needed the chance. It’s been hurled into our laps. I have wasted enough time; I'm ready to start living. Without reservation, without fear, and with him.

I only nod in response. His thumb comes up to my mouth and he presses it against my lips. I open my mouth and the tip of it slips inside. I suck it, savoring the saltiness and rough texture of his skin. He groans and in a flash, his finger is gone and his lips are on mine.

This kiss, it is an ode to our new beginning. I savor it, wanting to remember every moment about it because I know this is a kiss that marks the start of a grand adventure. I pour all of my passion, my love, and hope into it. My mouth feasts on his and his devours mine. We are a tangle of lips, tongue, teeth; a dizzy spiral of lust and need.

His hands grasp the bottom of my sweatshirt and in one swift pull it is over my head. I raise my hands to let him pull it all the way off.

This motion breaks our kiss and Dean stands back to look at me. I wasn’t wearing a bra under my sweatshirt. My breasts are exposed to his gaze. I take care of my body, but I have also carried, given birth to, and nursed a child. These are not the breasts Dean would remember from our youth.

I bring my arm across my chest self-consciously, but he reaches forward to pull it back down to my side.

His eyes are full of adoration and heat. It’s a heady combination. He reaches up to rub the ring that sits on the chain around my neck. He stares at it as he turns it over in his hands.

Then he looks up at me. “You still have this. You’re wearing it?” He sounds shocked.

“Yes, for good luck.”

“Fuck me. I don’t deserve you.”

I start to interrupt him, but he cuts me off. “I know I don’t, but I'm going to work every single day I draw breath to be worthy.”

I duck my head and my arm comes back up to my breasts. He pulls it back down.

“Don’t ever, ever hide from me, Red. Your body is beautiful. It’s even more beautiful than I remember. I want to see it all. I want to taste it all. I want to fuck it all.”

He reaches behind him and uses one hand to grip the collar of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He exposes his body—all muscle, sinew, and strong bones—to me. My eyes drink him in. He’s more beautiful than I remember.

I reach out to touch his beautifully sculpted chest. My hands run all over his golden skin, my hands following the ridges and hollows, the swell of muscle. My fingertips skim his nipples and he hisses out a breath.

He removes his jeans and his boxers and then he's standing in front of me completely bare.

I drop to my knees in front of him, drawn to him like a moth to the flame. His cock is so beautiful, erect and proud. I lean forward and lick the pre-cum that is already on the tip of his cock.

In a voice that suddenly is all gravel he says, “Milly . . . fuck.”

My hand circles the base of his cock, and I take him as far into my mouth as I can. The taste of him is unbelievable, the feel of him, hot, smooth skin over rigid steel is intoxicating and my own arousal takes flight.

I feel his hands grasp my shoulders, and I grip his ass. I'm not very practiced at this, it’s not something I did more than a handful of times while I was married, and I certainly never enjoyed it. But the pleasure I'm getting from this is like I'm the one experiencing it.

One of my hands leaves his body and goes between my legs. I feel Dean’s cock grow harder, and I increase the already tight seal my mouth makes. My tongue traces a path up and down the center of his cock, and I can feel the surge of cum. I know he's close.

He starts to pull me back and says with a warning in his voice, “I'm going to come, Milly”

I only hold on tighter and move my head faster. The hand that is between my legs also speeds up, and I feel myself getting close to orgasm. I want to taste him, swallow him, and have a piece of him inside my body. He comes with hard, fast thrusts of his hips and a long cry that sounds like a sob.

I swallow everything he gives me and lean back on my knees as I start to come, too. My lips are sore from taking his wide girth into my mouth, but nothing has ever felt so good.

He looks back down at me, dazed and happy. He hooks his hands under my arms and hauls me to my feet.

“My turn,” he says with a wicked grin.

He bends his head to take one of my already hard nipples into his mouth and the sensation leaves me scrambling for purchase. A shot of pleasure runs down the core of my body, and I feel my clit throbbing from my recent orgasm. He yanks my sweatpants down and lays me back on my bed.

He hovers over me and his eyes roam my face like he's committing my expressions to memory. My eyes do the same. He has a slightly wild look about him. His eyes have turned a dark green and his pupils are dilated. His hair is sweat dampened and thick locks of it are clinging to his forehead.

He bends down and takes my nipple back into his mouth. And watching him, his lips attached to my breast, while I feel his tongue licking, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

My hands thread in his hair to try and hold him there. But he's on the move, kissing his way down my torso. He gets to the line of my underwear where a swirl of stretch marks from carrying Anthony sit. He licks them, reverently and slowly.

My hand comes back to his head, but this time to caress it. My heart feels so full, joy leaks from my eyes.

His head moves and nuzzles my pussy through my underwear. He opens his entire mouth and sucks me through the lace and silk and then he pushes them aside and takes my already hard and throbbing clit into his mouth and starts a gentle sucking motion.

My mouth falls open in a silent cry and he puts three big, blunt fingers inside of me. He rubs gently, turning his fingers until he hits a spot that makes my hips buck off the bed. And he stays there, stroking, coaxing all while his mouth gives me the sweetest pleasure.

In only a matter of minutes, I'm coming apart. For those seconds, I'm lost in a wave of bliss, pain, pleasure . . . life. I feel it surge through me as Dean holds me to his mouth, his sucks gentling. I sag into the mattress and he pulls my panties all the way down and settles in the cradle of my hips.

“Milly, are you on birth control?” he asks suddenly, and I nod, quickly, yes.

“I want to be inside you without anything between us. For our first time, I want to feel you. Can I?” I nod, an emphatic yes, I want that so much, too. My heart is so full it wants to burst. I can’t wait to feel him inside of me.

Dean slides up my body and pulls my legs up to his waist and then I feel him, blunt, wide and delicious, as he slides into me. It is slow, almost laborious and long, and a keening moan escapes my mouth as I lift my hips to bring him all the way inside me.

He feels incredible, skin against skin. He turns us, so we are side by side, pulling my knees up to either side of his hips and then he begins to move. My arms wrap around his shoulder and I bury my face in his neck.

His hands fist in my hair and he pulls my head back to look at him.

“Milly, no, look at me. This is us,” he says.

“Always,” I return, smiling at him.

He drops hot kisses on my face, he licks my neck, he bites my lips, and he moves inside of me, taking his time, making love to me.

“Milly, this, body, this soul, this love, it’s mine. The only other children that will grow inside you are the ones that I put there. The only tongue that will make you come again is mine. This. Is. Forever.” His thrusts move in a cadence with his words. And his pace picks up.

“Tell me you know this. Tell me I’m not alone here. Tell me you love me, baby.” He's not asking; he's demanding because he knows I have no choice.

My hands claw at his back as he starts to move faster and faster.

“It’s always been you,” I moan. My hands thread in his hair and I hold on for dear life.

“I love you, so much. So much. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He flips me over, so that he’s on top of me again. He puts my feet over his shoulder and starts to drive into me.

He talks to me while he fucks me.

“Leave you? I would have to be dead before I ever let you go. I want you to feel me, Milly, to understand me. I'm serious about you and us and this life we're starting.” I wince and flex my hips as he hit the top of womb.

“Am I too deep?” he asks.

“You can never be deep enough.” I want him to crawl inside my body and live there. I'm desperate in my need for him. His hands run my torso to capture my nipples. He starts to squeeze them to the rhythm of his thrusts and then I'm coming. Coming so fast and so hard that I turn my head to bite the pillow and my hands scramble to find a hold in the comforter we’re sprawled on top of.

“Tell me you like that,” he demands.

“I like it.”

“Tell me you know it’s mine.” His fingers coil in my hair and he pulls.

“What are you doing to me?” I beg. I’m so lost in the concerto of sensations overwhelming me.

He pulls out of me, turns me over onto my stomach, and re-enters me. He starts to thrust hard, leans down and bites my shoulder, and then licks it to soothe the sting. He moves his hand underneath my hips, finds my clit and starts to rub it. My orgasm rolls into another one, and I cry out his name.

“Milly. Fuck. Milly. I’m going to come.” He's saying this over and over again. And then he grabs my hips and starts to pound into me as he comes. His motions are furious and jerky, and I feel him empty himself into me.

We collapse in a heap of limbs, still connected, and he wraps his arms around me. His chest is sweat dampened and hot as I press up against him.

“Dean, this was . . .” I trail off, unable to find the words.

“It was us. This is all us.” He slips out of me and peels away. I feel cold without the heat of his chest.

He comes back from my bathroom with a washcloth he has wet with hot water. He wipes me off before throwing the cloth into the hamper and then crawls back into bed with me. He pulls me to his chest and wraps one arms around me.

I cover his hand with mine and bring it to my lips.

“This is us,” I whisper and feel all of the emotion he has just poured into me well up in my throat.

I feel Dean’s breathing even out before I let myself relax and start to drift off. I can’t stop the tears as they roll down my cheek. I remember the last time I lay in this bed and cried myself to sleep. This time, the tears flow from a wellspring of joy.