Page 34 of After the Rain

Wade was leaning against his truck in the parking lot when I emerged from the building, his face tight with worry that dissolved into relief when he saw my expression.

"How bad?" he asked, pulling me into his arms without caring who might see.

"Better than I hoped," I murmured against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent of sawdust and coffee. "They had dozens of letters supporting me. Brook and Dr. Martinez testified on my behalf. Mrs. Garrett looked like she'd swallowed glass by the end."

Wade's laugh rumbled through his chest. "I wish I could have seen that."

"I'm sorry you couldn't be in there with me."

"I'm not. This was your fight, your professional reputation. You handled it perfectly." He pulled back to look at my face, his hands framing my jaw. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

The simple declaration broke something loose in my chest, months of fear and tension finally beginning to ease. Wade had taken time off work to wait for me, to provide support even when he couldn't be directly involved. The gesture meant everything.

"Whatever they decide," Wade said quietly, "we face it together."

Looking into his eyes, I believed him completely.

That evening, after Cooper's bedtime routine, Wade and I finally found ourselves alone together without the weight of professional crisis hanging over us. The house felt peaceful and domestic, a stark contrast to the morning's formal interrogation.

Wade opened a bottle of wine while I examined Cooper's latest art project, prominently displayed on the refrigerator. It showed the three of us as stick figures holding hands outside a house, with "MY FAMILY" written in careful kindergarten letters across the top.

"He asked me if you were going to move in with us," Wade said, settling beside me on the couch with two glasses of red wine. "I told him we were still figuring out what our family looks like."

"What did he say to that?"

"He said families are about love, not about where people sleep. Then he asked if we could have pancakes for dinner because you make them better than I do."

I laughed, some of the day's stress finally beginning to ease. "Smart kid."

"He gets that from his teacher."

We talked about Cooper's adjustment, about my job security, about the small daily logistics of building a life together.

But underneath the practical conversation was something deeper, more electric.

The awareness that we were finally free to explore what we meant to each other without external pressure.

"I want to wake up next to you," Wade said quietly, setting down his wine glass and turning to face me fully. "Not just sometimes, not just when it's convenient. I want Cooper to see that love comes in different forms, and that his father is brave enough to choose authenticity over convenience."

The words hit me like lightning, illuminating every dark corner of longing I'd been carrying.

"I've been careful my whole adult life," I admitted, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. "Building walls to protect my career and my heart. But loving you feels worth the risk of losing everything I've built."

Wade's eyes darkened with something that looked like wonder mixed with desire. "Say that again."

"Loving you feels worth the risk."

He moved closer on the couch, our knees touching as emotional intimacy built toward something more electric. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you, about us, about what I want our life to look like."

"And what do you want?"

"Everything," he said simply. "I want to share a bed and a mortgage and weekend grocery shopping and Cooper's parent-teacher conferences. I want to fight about whose turn it is to do dishes and make up by fucking you senseless against the kitchen counter."

The crude honesty made heat pool low in my belly. Wade's newfound confidence in expressing his desires was intoxicating.

"I want all of that too," I whispered, leaning closer until I could feel his breath against my lips. "I want to build something real with you."

He kissed me tenderly. Wade's hands framed my face as we deepened the connection, both of us finally allowing ourselves to feel everything we'd been holding back.

The electricity between us had been building for months, and now it crackled through every point of contact. Wade's mouth was warm and demanding, his tongue teasing mine with growing confidence that made my head spin.

When we broke apart, both breathing hard, Wade rested his forehead against mine.

"Will you stay tonight?" The question was barely above a whisper, vulnerable and hopeful. "I don't want to hide anymore, and I don't want to be apart from you."

"Yes," I said without hesitation, the word carrying the weight of choosing love over safety, relationship over self-protection. "Yes, I'll stay."

Wade's smile was brilliant in the lamplight. "Really?"

"Really. We're done hiding, remember?"

He stood and extended his hand, his fingers trembling slightly with nerves and anticipation. "Come to bed with me."

I followed him upstairs, my heart pounding with the weight of what we were stepping into. This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just lust. This was intention —a claiming, a choice. We weren’t slipping, weren’t falling. We were leaping . Together.

Wade’s bedroom was everything I’d imagined and nothing like I’d expected. Clean lines, dark woods, a masculine calm—but with soft touches that spoke to the care he’d taken tonight. Fresh sheets. A candle flickering on the nightstand. The warm scent of cedar and his cologne lingering in the air.

He stood beside the bed, hands at his sides, jaw tense but eyes soft.

“This feels different,” Wade said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “Like I might not survive it if you walk away afterward.”

The honesty in his voice cut straight through me, sharp and devastating in its beauty.

“I’m not walking anywhere,” I said, stepping close. Our bodies didn’t touch yet, but the pull between us was magnetic. “This isn’t just another night. You know that.”

Wade exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days. “Yeah. I do.”

I reached for the hem of his shirt, moving slow—giving him every opportunity to pull away, even though I knew he wouldn’t. He raised his arms, his eyes never leaving mine, and I peeled it off him, baring the body I already knew but was still discovering in new ways every time.

Broad chest, dusted with dark hair. Solid muscle from years of labor, and tension vibrating beneath the surface like a taut string ready to snap.

My fingers traced across his chest, down the line of his sternum, following the path to his waistband. He shivered beneath my touch like he hadn’t just had my mouth on him two nights ago, like this was the first time again—but deeper, more dangerous.

“Your turn,” he murmured, voice lower now, a growl softened by affection.

He undressed me slowly, reverently, rediscovering every inch of my body like it was holy scripture. When his fingers found the compass inked on my ribs, he paused.

“You ever think it led you here. To me?”

I looked at him, heart full. “I don’t think it—I know it.”

He leaned down and kissed the ink, lips warm and lingering, and something unspoken cracked wide open between us.

We took our time, undressing each other piece by piece, building tension and reverence with every brush of fingers, every stolen breath.

His whispered “God, you’re so fucking beautiful” sent a pulse of heat straight to my cock.

My hands on his back earned low groans that made my restraint nearly shatter.

When we were finally bare, Wade guided me down onto the bed, our bodies falling into alignment like they were built to fit. Skin to skin. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

“This isn’t just sex,” he whispered, brushing his mouth against mine. “Tonight... I want you to take me like I belong to you.”

I kissed him, slow and deep. “You already do.”

We moved together with heat and hunger, but beneath it was something softer. Deeper. His hands were everywhere—trembling slightly at first, then steady as he grew more sure of what he wanted. Me. Us.

When I slid down his body and took his cock in my mouth, he gasped and arched into me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping the sheet like it could anchor him. His legs shook. His breath caught.

“Ezra—fuck—I’m not gonna last if you—” he hissed through gritted teeth, head thrown back, sweat already pearling at his temple.

I let him go with a soft pop and kissed my way up his trembling body. “Then don’t. We’ve got all night.”

He laughed breathlessly, but the smile faded when I reached between his legs, teasing him open with slick fingers. His thighs tensed, then relaxed as I worked him gently, watching his face for every flutter of pleasure, every flicker of surrender.

“I love watching you like this,” I murmured. “Letting me in. Letting me take care of you.”

“Feels too good,” he whispered. “You always make it feel too good.”

“You deserve good,” I said, voice rough. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

I stretched him carefully, easing in a second finger, then a third. His body took me so beautifully, his hole clenching around me, desperate for more.

“Ezra, please,” he begged, eyes dark with need. “I need your cock. Now.”

I lined myself up and pushed in slow, savoring every second as his body gave way, welcoming me with heat and tightness and a trembling groan that went straight to my soul.

Wade’s eyes fluttered open, wide and wild, mouth parted in awe. “ Fuck. That’s what I needed. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

“I’ve got you,” I whispered, bracing over him as I sank deeper. “You feel so good—so fucking tight. You were made for this.”

We moved together in a rhythm that built with every stroke, every thrust, every breathless moan. I hit that spot inside him again and again, and every time I did, his whole body clenched around me, pulling me deeper.