He begins a slow withdrawal and I wrap my legs more tightly around his hips, begging him not to pull away. Tyler growls and his body coils again for another thrust, his muscles straining to cement our connection.
“All systems go?”
“All of them. Go, Tyler. Let’s fly.”
And we do, in gentle strokes and hard ones, with smooth caresses and fingers digging into each other’s flesh. I ride waves of pleasure that build inside me like air currents, updrafts that send birds soaring without a single flap of their wings.
“Stella.” Tyler says my name like a prayer, like it’s a word invented only for him to speak. I tilt my hips and he hits a new spot inside me that sends my world spinning, and I can’t fight this current for control.
So I let go in deep, quaking waves, and feel Tyler’s release spill over in the same torrent of sensation. I clench to hold him as tightly as I can, then release as he collapses, rolling us on our sides, the big spoon and the little spoon.
He pulls me closer, as if he can’t bear to allow a breath of air to separate our skin.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
“I love you back,” I tell him, and finally give him the first promise he asked from me: “I’m all in.”
THIRTY-FOUR
The sun rises with Tyler still curled around me and I stretch, trying to get feeling back into the leg Tyler crushed between his own while we slept.
My phone chimes and I debate whether to look at the text, but curiosity wins. I stretch as far as I can reach and nab my phone from the table on my side of the bed.
Violet [6:14 a.m.]: I have a story for you.
Stella: You get that it’s dawn, right?
Violet: It can’t wait.
Stella: Lay it on me. What happened?
Violet: Not that kind of a story. Put your reporter hat back on, Stella. I need you to write one.