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BRUISED, NOT BROKEN
WYATT
“You’re lucky it’s not worse. It’s better than yesterday,” I gently placed Odette’s foot back on the bed. “You fell pretty hard.”
“Don’t rub in that I’m clumsy,mon cher.” She blushed.
“I didn’t say that,” I chuckled. “You aren’t. But it was still an impressive swan dive.”
I settled next to her, propping myself on my arm. Odette looked over, stroking my cheek with her soft palm. I’d missed this more than I knew. There was a great comfort in just being here with her in the quiet. This was day two of Her Majesty’s Celebration of Death—what we were all calling it now. I’d been here for about twenty-four hours, fitting right back into whatever we were almost seamlessly. It was as if I had never left.
“I missed your face,” Odette said. “If that isn’t weird to say?”
“No, it’s wonderfully accurate for me, baby. Looking at your face—in person—is an absolute relief. I forgot how wonderful it was. I knew it was, but it’s different in vivid colour.”
She looked down, still embarrassed by compliments.
“Don’t you believe me, Odette?”
“I do,” Odette said, “but it’s hard to believe sometimesover all the news. And after what happened, I worried I could never be enough. I still do. I have to wait, see, and trust in this.”
“I took for granted all you gave me—us,” I said. “But if I have to grovel every day for a while to remind you why I love you and why you should believe it, I will, my love.”
“I just need to believe in myself to believe in you, is all.”
“Odette, look at all you’ve done in my absence! You’ve become a beloved, trusted member of the household. Peopleloveyou and live to meet you. It’s no wonder. You have the biggest heart. Why would I notwantto be with you? To beluckyto have you?”
Her lip quivered. “I was broken like I couldn’t describe for awhile after you left. I haven’t been pining for you this whole time, mind you. I’ve been working myself to the bone to distract from you.”
“Same,” I said. “All of it. I was a mess because I loved you, and you meant the world to me, Odette.”
A tear ran down her cheek. I wiped it away, unable to stop myself. The urge to comfort her was too strong—as ever.
“It will take me time to be back here, as I said. But when the dust has settled here, and you want to, let’s buy a house and go all-in.”
“You meant what you said?”
Without hesitation, I said, “Without a doubt, Odette.”
She kissed me, something I’d longed for since our abrupt end. Not holding back, I ran my fingers through her hair, pulling the roots. Odette gripped my shirt and slid closer. I assisted by pulling her towards me in one swift motion. Odette pulled back, eyes wide and searching for some sign.
“Don’t stop,” Odette said.
That was the confirmation I needed to kiss her back, running my hand to where her waist met her hip. I’d have done anything to touch her bare hip rather than her pyjamas. I wanted to kiss every inch of Odette Deschamps. I tried to breathe her in.
“Do you want those off?” Odette read my mind.
“Only if you want?—”
“I need a good distraction,” Odette said.
She tossed her shorts and panties aside, then her top. The sheer sight of her was better than I even recalled. Her milky, soft skin shonebright. Every mark, curve, and freckle sprung back to memory. She was so beautiful and inviting. It didn’t feel right for her to be alone like this. I followed suit.
“I’m going to give you everything, Odette,” I kissed from her neck to her breasts.
“Oh-okay.” She shivered and unexpectedly pushed my head down. “Why not start there?”
I loved the insistence, letting her legs settle on my shoulders. I took in the way she arched her back, presenting her pussy to me. Gripping her hips, I licked her clit, tasting her sheer excitement. Moaning, she grabbed my hair and rolled her hips. Listening to the rhythm of her breathing, I increased the tempo and slid two fingers inside her to tickle her G-spot. Odette squealed excitedly, bucking against my face.