CH 41: It's been weeks for a reason

Her breath hitched when he kissed her again—deeper, slower, like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth all over again. Mike’s hands slid beneath her shirt, not just teasing now, but exploring, mapping the skin he hadn’t touched in what felt like forever. His palms were warm, steady, reverent. She didn't stop him. Instead, she raised her arms. He hesitated—just for a moment—eyes searching hers, asking silently if this was okay. Renee nodded.
And with a slow, aching movement, he lifted her shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. The cool air kissed her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off his body.
Mike’s eyes trailed down her, slow and careful, as though he was seeing her for the first time and all over again at once. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her collarbone, then lower, kissing her skin like a prayer—gentle, deliberate.
She gasped, her hands finding the back of his neck, anchoring herself as he kissed the curve of her shoulder, then the dip beneath her throat. His mouth was everywhere, and it made her head spin.
“Mike,” she whispered, voice trembling. He looked up, his gaze dark but filled with something deeper than lust—something almost broken. “I’ve missed you like this,” he said. “Not just your body… all of you.”
His words made her chest tighten. She wanted to respond, but her body answered first. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him close, and his lips returned to hers with an urgency that left her breathless.

Without breaking the kiss, he reached beneath her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. She let out a soft gasp, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs—every step unhurried, every moment thick with tension. He kissed her as he walked, pausing only to press his mouth against her bare shoulder, then her neck, then the edge of her jaw. Renee’s heart pounded in her chest, her fingers clutching his shoulders, holding on to the heat, the rush, the weight of everything they were walking into. By the time they reached her bedroom, her skin was flushed, her breath shallow, and her mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts—all drowned out by the feel of his lips against her skin. He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, never letting her go.

As he laid her down gently on the bed, her pulse thundered in her ears. Because for the first time in a long time—she wanted to lose herself. And it was Mike who was holding her when she finally did.
Mike hovered over her, their breaths mingling in the dim light filtering through her bedroom curtains. His hands framed her waist, fingers brushing over her bare skin like he was trying to memorize every inch. His touch was deliberate, slow—like the world had paused for them and only them.

Renee arched toward him, seeking more. His lips found hers again, softer this time, slower but no less consuming. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, pushing it up, needing to feel his skin against hers. He let her lift it off, discarding it with the same care he’d shown when removing hers. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words a confession against her throat. His mouth trailed kisses down her chest, each one deliberate, reverent. When he reached the waistband of her pants, he paused—looking up at her again, giving her that final chance to stop things. She nodded, breathless.
With slow hands, he undressed her fully, eyes never leaving her face. The way he looked at her—not just with desire, but with awe—made her body flush deeper than any touch could. Then his fingers found her.
He touched her like she was something sacred, like every movement was meant to heal, not just please. His fingers moved in slow, languid circles, learning her all over again. Renee gasped, hips rising toward his hand as he explored her with tender precision. His free hand braced her thigh, grounding her as his other coaxed every breathless sound from her lips.

He never looked away—not once. He watched her unravel beneath his touch, watched her eyes flutter closed, then open again just to meet his. Renee gripped the sheets, her thighs trembling, her body flushed and alive beneath his steady hands. His fingers grew bolder, sliding deeper, curling slightly, drawing more of her soft cries from deep within. He kissed her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her breast—everywhere but her lips, until she finally pulled him up by his shoulders, needing to taste him again. Their mouths met hard, and she felt him—ready, wanting, straining against the edge of restraint.

“I need you,” she whispered, barely able to speak through the heat. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he hovered—his body between her thighs, heart racing with hers. Then, without ceremony, he entered her in a single, rough thrust. She gasped into his mouth, the sudden fullness taking her breath, her fingers digging into his back. He groaned low in his throat, the sound primal, pained, full of something that had waited too long. He moved again—harder, deeper—his rhythm unforgiving and intimate all at once. It wasn’t just sex. It was something stormy and buried and reborn in the moment they collided. Renee wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him to her, meeting him thrust for thrust, breath for breath. Their bodies moved in sync—driven by months of confusion, years of history, and a love neither of them had dared name until now. And when she finally fell apart in his arms, her body trembling and eyes damp with overwhelmed need, he followed with a broken whisper of her name and a kiss that felt like forever.
Renee gasped as Mike rolled her over on her belly onto the mattress, her body still sensitive and tingling from before. His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you.”
He didn’t wait. His hands slid down her spine, gripping her hips with possession as he pulled her to her knees. She felt the head of him press against her again—hard, thick, insistent—and then he was inside her with one deep, claiming thrust. She cried out, her fingers clawing into the sheets as he began to move, rougher than before, his rhythm fast, unrelenting. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, along with her desperate moans and his ragged groans as he drove into her from behind.

Without warning, he reached forward, fisting her hair and pulling her head back so her body arched into him. “You feel that?” he growled. “This is what you do to me.” She could barely breathe, lost in the overwhelming pressure, the pleasure building again at a terrifying pace. Then his voice dropped lower, darker. “I want to come inside you,” he panted. “Put a baby in you. Make sure you never forget me Renee." Renee’s breath caught—shocked, aroused, terrified by how much she wanted it.
And then he slammed into her again—deeper, harder—Her breath caught with a moan—then, “Mike… I’m late.”