Page 53 of One More Chance
"Hopefully, you'll say that too." I winked at her and guided her toward the bedroom as she laughed. I closed the door behind us and moved her to the bed.
The backs of her knees hit the edge and she sat, drawing me down with her. She reached for my shirt, her fingers trembling as she peeled it over my head. I caught her wrist and held her. Not to stop her, but to anchor her.
My next words came out tight, strained even to my own ears, but I needed her to hear them. "This is your choice. You need to be sure."
“I want this,” she whispered. “I want you… don’t disappear on me again. Don't make me regret this.”
“I won’t,” I breathed, kissing her knuckles before guiding her hand to my chest. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Our clothes came off in hurried motions. There was hunger, yes, but it was still laced with a desperate and anxious grief.
She felt familiar and sacred. How she gasped when my mouth moved down her collarbone then past her breasts, how her fingers tangled in my hair as I kissed her hips, how her thighs trembled when I settled between them. All of it tethered me to that moment.
"Levi, you don't have to." Her voice was gentle, but there was a tremor in it, a vulnerability that hit me harder than anything else.
I kissed the crease of her inner thigh with a tender slowness. "I want to."
Her breath caught and I felt her hesitate. Despite our previous coupling on the couch a few nights past, a part of her still braced for disappointment; for the familiar letdown.
The Old Me had been convinced of his sexual prowess and consumed by his need to remain in control and dominant. He had no desire, or even capability, to provide the kind of thoughtful devotion Sloane needed. He was a child pretending to be a man; a man who understood nothing of love.
He had been so focused on his own ego, his own desires, that he'd failed to see how much Sloane had given and how much she deserved to be worshipped. He'd ignored the drawer full of toys she kept hidden as a quiet reminder of the nights he'd had been absent, both physically and emotionally. So many nights the Old Me had chosen to chase empty dreams rather than satisfy her… to ignore her needs as a partner.
And that knowledge gutted me. The Old Me had made her feel invisible, as if her desires were inconvenient and her longing for connection was too much. When really, he was the one who wasn’t enough for her.
Fuck that guy.
As I rested my forehead against her skin I whispered, “I want to please you, Sloane.” I meant it. With every part of me that had finally woken up. "Can we use one of your toys?"
Her eyes widened at that, laced with disbelief. “Wait, what?”
I nodded toward the nightstand. “The toys I used to be jealous of. Let's use one.”
“But… you always said it was demeaning.”
I kissed the inside of her thigh, “Yeah, and I was a fool. A very insecure fool who was too wrapped up in proving something to care about whatyouliked.”
She didn’t move as she stared at me, caught between confusion and caution.
So, I stood and walked to the nightstand myself.
“Levi, wait,” she said, panicked. “Really, it’s okay.”
But I didn’t stop. I opened the drawer and stared at the small collection she kept tucked away. A low whistle escaped me. “Well, fuck me, Sloane. I’ve seen a smaller inventory at boutique shops.”
Behind me, she groaned. “Oh god...”
I turned, grinning, and held up a sleek silver one like it was a relic. “Is this battery-operated or possessed? Be honest.”
“Levi.” Her voice was sharp, but I caught the flicker of a smile beneath her mortified expression. “Put that down.”
"Both. Got it." I nodded solemnly, as if conducting a serious study. Then I picked up something that looked like a rose. “What doesthisdo? Pollinate?”
Sloane’s face flushed deep with embarrassment. She reached for it as she said, “You really shouldn’t-”
But I held it out of her grasp with a crooked grin. “Uh-uh. Now, I have to know. Is this decorative or weaponized?”
She failed to suppress a smile as she said, “You’re insufferable.”
