TYLER

I can see the second she breaks. The moment she snaps with a decision. The second she hurtles herself from the plane, praying her parachute opens and suspends her from a rocky, tumultuous landing.

I am that parachute. As her hands fall on mine and her lips tease searching, soulful kisses, I’m fully aware how much this means to her. Everything leading up to this was an unwritten trial, and everything that follows will be, too. A test to see if I’m worthy of her and Mila, a test to see if I’ve meant what I’ve said. A test to see if I can love her as much as she’s fearful of loving me.

Well, the answer is an easy one.

I love her more than that. I know that, somehow, without proof. Without evidence, without any sign of logical thought—it’s as if my entire being, every particle from which I’m made joins against hers as we tumble into the bedroom and onto the mattress.

I intend to ask her if she’s sure, but I can’t form the words. I’m too terrified it’ll shatter the illusion and send us spiraling to our own corners of the room.

Instead, I close my eyes. I focus on the way her hands grip and pull, caress and search, ease and comfort. When her fingernails dig into my shoulders, my eyes clench shut, searing everything about this into my memory.

Ironically, she doesn’t seem the least bit afraid. I’m the one scared shitless today; I’m terrified something will shake her resolve. The two of us don’t make sense together—we never have. We just are, and I intend to prove it.

Once the initial shock of the moment has passed, I pull myself out of a haze and study her. I have her pinned against her bed, her cheeks pink with exertion as she stares up at me with gleaming eyes.

She tilts her head with curiosity. “What were you thinking about?”

“I was—”

“Actually—” she holds up a finger, interrupting— “I don’t want to know. Don’t talk.”

I laugh as my hands reach for the straps of her dress, toying with them as I feel the smoothness of her skin beneath. “I’m only going to ask this once. Are you sure you want to do this? We can wait.”

Her voice is small, but confident. “If we’re going to do this, I’m not going to hold back. A month?”

“A month.”

“Then Tyler, yes. Make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”

Her name on my lips sets off a fury inside me, a pleasant buzz of adrenaline that sends the rest of me spiraling out of control. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, aching with need as I slide my hand under the hem of her dress, easing it up her pale thighs and resting it on her stomach. “I can’t do that.”

“But—” she argues as my finger toys with the lace thong she’s wearing. “Tyler...”

Her eyes close as she sinks away from her response. I run a finger over her, hissing when I feel just how ready she is. Her arguments turn into little moans of encouragement, sounds that drive me wild as she bucks her hips upward. I take my time, teasing and playing, until those little moans turn into a demand and her fingers reach toward me.

I dip my finger gently inside of her, watching her face as the first touch nearly sends her writhing in bliss. “How long has it been since...” I trail off as her eyes close and her head falls back.

“Not since Mila,” she gasps. “Priorities, you know how it goes.”

My eyes must explode at her answer because she stills for a moment, watching me with a hunger in her eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snaps. “I’ve been busy.”

I can’t help but laugh, while simultaneously wondering how the hell she’s gone six years without sex. Six years. Almost seven, if...I push the calculations away and focus on the woman before me.

With a new sense of focus, I snap her panties off, tearing them at the seams.

“Those were expensive,” she mutters.

“And they were for me,” I tell her. “Don’t deny it.”

I press my mouth against hers, swallowing her arguments. It’s an easier, and infinitely more enjoyable, way to end a conversation. I can only focus on one thing at a time, and I plan on focusing on her.

She sinks back into hot lava, malleable in my arms as I ease another finger in, gentle, testing the waters. It’s been so long for her, and I can sense this experience is almost new. Exploratory. She’s so intensely in tune with every one of my motions, soaking in every touch, every breath, as if this is her first time.

“Is this...” I hesitate, my breath coming in a whisper against her ear. “In college, we...”

“Tyler. Is now really the time to discuss this?” Her hips arch toward me, demanding more from my hand as she tugs at the waistband of my pants. “I finally fall into bed with you, and now you want to talk?”

“I’m just trying to understand...if your first time was with me, and then you didn’t stay with Mila’s father, and—”

“Yes. I’ve been with two men—you’re one of them. Are you happy?”

My chest constricts at the thought. “But—”

“Are you trying to ruin this before we start?”

“God, no! I’m trying to...to understand,” I murmur. “I’m surprised—you’re beautiful, Margaret. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“I didn’t need anyone,” she snaps. “Can you stop talking before I change my mind about this? Please?”

I laugh again, amused by how much fun I’m having. Sex for me has always been a basic need. An itch to scratch, if you will. When we were young, I was clueless—this time, things are different. I wouldn’t call myself a playboy, but I’ve had relationships—brief, physical ones—in New York. Like I said, an itch to scratch, nothing more.

Though I’m always polite when it comes to sex, making sure the woman finishes before I do, I’ve never felt so fully invested in their satisfaction. If anything, today, I’m too consumed by the needs of Maggie to even remember mine. As if her pleasure is linked to mine, and only once she’s weak with bliss will I be satisfied.

“What did you mean before?” Maggie whispers now, clinging to me as I ease my body against hers. “You said you can’t make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”

I kick my pants off and align my body with hers, chest to chest, as my arousal presses against her through my boxers. “I meant,” I say, offering a necklace of kisses to her collarbone. “That I can’t think of a single reason we shouldn’t be together.”

“Well, there’s the fact—”

“So,” I interrupt, harshly. “I will one up you.”

“Mmm?”

My fingers have found her again, and she’s putty in my arms, almost humming with pleasure. “I will show you all the reasons we belong together.”

“Oh, Tyler...”

Her words dissolve into nothingness as I ease lower, brushing her dress to the side as my mouth finds her. She tastes heavenly, delectable, and I kiss her with every intention to never stop. To not stop until she shatters in my arms and rests there, letting me piece her back together.

When her nails dig into my hair, I’m set to explode. I’m straining so thoroughly at my boxers I’m surprised I haven’t punctured a hole in them yet. And still, I’m so focused on Maggie’s reactions that I barely notice.

To focus on her is to focus on myself, I realize with a jolt. To bring her happiness will set my stars in alignment, will put a bounce in my step and a lightness inside of me that hasn’t been seen in years. She is everything I need.

My next kiss between her thighs does the trick. She lets out a cry that has me wondering if reception can hear. I guide her through every wave of her climax, gritting my resolve not to bury myself in her and steal some of the pleasure for myself.

But when Margaret finishes, shuddering, and whispers my name, I’m complete.

I pull her through the last of the tremors, rolling her onto her side and holding her in my arms as she settles back to earth. She’s limp all over and breathing heavily, and I can’t help the rising sense of satisfaction. Of knowing that I put the look of ecstasy on her face. Knowing that when she murmured a name—it was mine.

“I hope you know,” I whisper into her ear. “Now that I’ve heard you say my name like that, I’m dead set on making it the last name you ever say in bed. Forever.”

She shivers against me. “That’s a big statement.”

“I mean it.”

Turning to face me, she spends the next few minutes looking into my face. I’m not sure what she’s searching for, but she seems to find everything there fascinating. In return, I study her. I trace the curves of her eyebrows and run my hand through her hair. Meanwhile, her fingers cascade around the lines of my jaw, as if she’s painting this image to last. Cementing it into her mind.

Easing onto my elbows, I look into her eyes. “I will prove to you, no matter how long it takes, that we have every reason to be together.”

Her eyes swim with tears.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”

She pulls me close, her lips against mine. She presses for me to give her more, to give her everything this time, but I hold back. Again, it’s about her—for now. My next motion silences her arguments, and from there on out, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathless pants until she calls my name again.