Page 64 of Forever Then

Chapter Forty-Nine

EXACTLY THE RIGHT PERSON

Connor

I can’t count the number of images of Gretchen that live rent-free in my head.

Barefoot and full of joy, running across her backyard at sixteen.

Propped against her headboard, messy bun in place, bundled in an NYU sweatshirt on our first FaceTime call.

That balcony, her silhouette in profile, hair floating on the breeze, smooth skin of her back on full display.

Stunned and stunning, yellow dress and turquoise earrings, sitting across from me at the restaurant two months ago when I realized I would never get over her.

Her sun-kissed face staring back at me through my phone as I snapped our picture on Devil’s Bridge.

Content and peaceful, wrapped in the arms of her birth family.

Two days ago in my kitchen, dressed in my clothes and those sexy-as-sin glasses, making fajitas.

Now, this one: Gretchen in nothing but a black lace bra from the waist up. Portions of her nipples exposed, the patchwork material leaves nothing to the imagination, transfixing me on the rise and fall of her chest.

Her smooth, tan skin prickles with goosebumps in the wake of my fingers as I glide softly across her collarbone, then down.

The pad of my index finger grazes her nipple and she sucks in a breath, hands gripping my shoulders.

Lower now, my eyes follow the path of my hands in rapt fascination as her legs tighten over my hips.

“Connor, please,” she pleads, releasing the next button on my shirt.

Sweeping up from the chair, her feet hit the ground as we become a frenzy of tossed clothes and locked lips.

She rids me of my shirt and moves to the waistband of my jeans.

Our mouths recklessly seek, tongues clash, as we shuffle toward the bedroom.

I push her shorts down her legs and she kicks them off the rest of the way.

I do the same with my jeans and shoes before wrapping an arm around her waist and launching us to the middle of the bed together.

Her opened suitcase crashes to the floor with a thunk behind us.

I settle between her legs, every place where her bare skin meets mine like a million tiny lightning strikes startling all my nerve endings awake. Her breast spills out as I pull the lace cup down and take her into my mouth. She moans, head falling back as I do the same on the other side.

Her whimpers, her gasps, her cries—I need more of them.

I snap her bra strap against her shoulder. “Off.”

Lifting herself up, she reaches behind her back, works the clasp and throws the bra aside with the confidence of someone that’s done this a thousand times before.

Except, she hasn’t.

Propped on my knees, tucked between her open thighs, I take Gretchen in as she leans back on her palms, topless and unashamed. Damn if she isn’t the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. “You are so beautiful.” Eyes prowling over her once more, I ask, “Are you nervous?”

There’s no attempt to hide her body, no hesitation as she drags a hand down my bare chest, tucking one finger inside the waistband of my boxers. “I’m not nervous about you.”

I press forward until she’s flat on her back again.

This time, when my hips find their home between her legs, I rock forward as our lips meet.

One hand restraining hers firmly above her head, I run the other over the rest of her—kneading her breast, grabbing the back of her knee to draw her leg higher, every inch of her skin soft as silk beneath my fingers.

“God, you’re perfect,” I say, grabbing the underwear at her hips as my need to be inside of her grows by the second

“I got tested at my physical last month and I’m good.”

Flustered, she says, “Oh, um…I’ve never been with?—”

“I know,” I cut her off, hand soft on her cheek. “Birth control?”

She shakes her head and I roll across the mattress toward the nightstand. On my feet next to the bed, I yank her by the legs to the edge and she squeals, beaming a smile that’s pure illumination. I’m going to spend the rest of my goddamn life making her smile like that.

I peel her panties off and shuck them aside as she sits up and tugs me by the waist to stand between her legs. She takes me in her hand, running hungry kisses across my stomach as I rip the condom wrapper with my teeth.

She pushes my boxers down and my breaths come in shallow pants as her lips drift lower, closer. “Gretch, if you put your mouth on me, I’m not going to last.”

Adorable eyes laced with arrogance look up at me before I nudge her to scoot back. I quickly roll the condom on, position myself against the headboard, and pull her to straddle me so she can set the pace.

I slide my finger through her center and her palm slaps against the headboard, a shallow burst of breath escaping her mouth on a whimper.

“Mmm, you’re ready, aren’t you?” I rasp.

I shift her hips and my lower half until we’re in position. The faintest touch of my length teasing her entrance has her gasping out intoxicating sounds of pleasure—every tether of my restraint wholly focused on not thrusting to the hilt in one fell swoop.

With my hands branding her hips, she lowers herself on to me. My head falls back, jaw shut tight as I force my breaths to steady. She winces before drawing back. “Sshhh. It’s okay. Take your time, baby.”

Air stalls in her lungs as she does it again.

Inch by heavenly inch, her tight heat clamps around me.

She lowers, pauses, then lifts a millimeter before lowering again, each time finding a bit more as I inch deeper inside her.

We groan in unison as we settle into that deep-seated position when I push another inch upwards.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. My hands run up her back, one tangling in her hair while the other grips her shoulder. Her knees on the comforter spread wider, hips sinking lower as I pull her shoulders down to find even more.

She moans into my mouth and I covet every sound. Starved, I worship her breasts as she rocks her hips, grinding against me. I hiss. “Fu—you feel so good, Gretch. I love you so goddamn much.”

We find a rhythm that makes my head spin, that tightening in my spine already building. I glance down to where our bodies are joined together, me buried so deep I can’t tell where either of us begins.

I throw my head back, eyes blinking at the ceiling, and force out a controlled breath.

She halts her movements, concern splitting her features. “Is something wrong?”

“God, no! I’m just trying to keep this from ending before it even starts.”

“Oh.” She nervously adjusts her glasses on her nose.

I cup her jaw, bringing our foreheads together. “I need a minute.” Her hips shift and I groan. “That feels so good, but please don’t do it again.”

She snickers and I spend long seconds—an eternity—eyes shut, taking in deep breaths when that sexy voice whispers, “Whatchu doin’ there, old man?”

“Just imagining the most unsexy things I can think of. ”

“I see,” she says as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“Staplers,” I offer, head leaning into her touch.

She sucks my earlobe between her teeth.

“Spreadsheets.”

She drags her lips across my jaw and I fight to steady my racing pulse.

“World hunger,” I supply, voice raspy.

Her mouth moves over my cheek until it hovers above me in an unmet kiss. My will to live dies a slow, painful death as she sweeps her tongue over my parted lips.

“Port-a-potties,” I croak.

Mouths meeting, she pauses as silent quakes of laughter slowly take over her body. Her shallow huffs of amusement join mine as she kisses me through it.

“I’m grasping at straws here, Fish.”

“Mmmm,” she croons, trying so hard to be serious. “And port-a-potties were the way to go?”

We both lose it.

My chest bounces with unrestrained laughter as Gretchen throws her head back, giggling wildly, and the sound does something to my heart.

The image clicks into place—one I’ll never forget.

The woman of my dreams in my bed, naked, straddling my hips, me buried inside her to the hilt, and we’re laughing.

Both of us, laughing with complete abandon over something that definitely should have killed the moment. Yet, it’s perfect.

This is perfect.

She brings her lips to mine as her chuckle fades, saying, “I love you.”

I push all manners of public restrooms from my brain and kiss her. “I love you, too.”

Like a wave sweeping me under, my senses become consumed by her.

I see her hips bracketing my thighs, body perfect and ready for me. The deep brown eyes tucked behind those hot-librarian glasses.

I feel her skin warming under my touch. Long hair, soft and smooth, that slides through my fingers .

Lavender and vanilla fill my lungs as I coast my lips over her neck and collarbone, breathing her in.

I press my thumb to that bundle of nerves between her legs and her voice moaning my name becomes my new favorite sound.

My mouth finds her breast again, tongue flicking over her nipple. No matter where I kiss her, every inch tastes like mine.

Mine. Because she came back and called me hers.

Mine. Because I’m the only man she’s ever given herself to.

Mine. Because I plan to keep it that way.

Tentatively, she rolls her hips again and this time I don’t stop her. My fingertips dig into the flesh of her thighs to guide her movements. Her slow, staccato breaths come in rhythm with each rock forward.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I say.

I thrust upward once to meet the sway of her hips. “Yes,” she breathes, “more.”

Her breast in one hand and the other molded around the curve of her ass, I take control as I move her back and forth, her body fully surrendered to my lead. Picking up the pace, I buck my hips again and her sharp cry pierces the room.

“Tell me this is okay. I need to know I’m not hurting you.”

She shakes her head in a rush. “It’s okay. It’s so good. You feel so good. Please don’t stop.”

I thrust again and again, groaning and grunting into the hot, shaky breaths filling the space between us.