I wake up andfor the first time in years, I feel perfectly loved.
Strange. I knew Mitchel loved me, and I loved him. We’d planned a life, and I’d been willing to commit to making our marriage a thing of wonder. But being loved by a man when the relationship had always been hard work feels different from being loved by, well, Hunter.
It’s more than waking up with my body still glowing from all his attention. It’s more than waking up, knowing from the slight twitch of his foot that he isn’t ready to face the world but knows I’m next to him. A small thing, but part of what makes us, us.
These last few days have been an amazing wake-up call for me. When I realized my feelings were about the betrayal and humiliation rather than the loss of Mitchel, it forced me to ask myself why. Last night was the answer.
I’d never truly gotten over Hunter. Every other man had only been a stopgap, a consolation prize. No one else could feel so natural and complete. I never needed to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, pretend to want things out of life that didn’t appeal.
“Hmph.”
“It grunts,” I smile, rubbing my ass into his morning erection. Some things never change, thankfully. If this man can wake wanting me and go to sleep loving me, then everything in between will be okay.
Instead of responding with words, Hunter’s hand reaches around, in between my legs, which betray me. Opening without him having to work for it, craving his attention long before I want to play at least a little hard to get.
Screw timing.
With his cock from behind and fingers from the front, I am encased in all things Hunter. Arching my back until we have skin on skin from his chin resting in the nape of my neck down to our toes, my body hums in our glorious connection of mind, body, and soul.
“Ohhhh,” I groan, rolling onto my stomach and bringing Hunter with me. He’s never been able to resist this position before, and he catches on to my plan in a heartbeat.
Spreading my cheeks with his spare hand, he plunges inside, forcing me flat onto the mattress until I become an open canvas for his artistry. Proving he has changed a little, his fingers remain in place, building me slowly while he holds himself steady. He refuses to thrust until I start to build, then he torments me on the edge of an orgasm until I think I’ll either collapse and suffocate on the mattress or die from pure bliss.
We are together. In all ways humanly possible.
His cries fill the room, probably scaring off half the wildlife and even other guests. A single word, screamed out over and over again.
“Liv.”
My name, my man. My love. Caught up in the moment, I almost cry out that I love him but bite back my words so harshly I almost make my lips bleed.
Too soon. He wouldn’t understand and might not believe it.
“I fucking live for you,” Hunter cries out as I join him in our thundering collapse. He falls on top of my back, fingers still in place, twitching me in a teasing taste of more to come. Bring it on.
“Good morning,” he whispers, kissing my neck until I can turn and give him my lips.
“It is now. Is this what you normally have for breakfast?”
“Nah, but I’m willing to change my standard order if you are.”
“I normally like variety.”
“Oh, baby, I’ll give you variety until you beg me for boring.”
“I think I want my phone back, for more than posting on Instagram.”
“You ready to talk to people?”
“Text. Not ready for all the questions.”
“About us?”
“Is there an us? I mean, you were so dead set on this not happening.” It’s easier having this conversation with Hunter still on top, inside, and unable to see my eyes. I don’t want to see lies or for him to see my desperation.
“Can you remember why?”
“Flings and rebounds.”
