Page 92 of One More Chance
She looked away, biting her lip. “I don’t know, Levi.”
“I get it,” I said quickly. “It doesn’t even have to be marriage counseling right away. There's individual therapy as well. After everything we’ve been through, your anxiety, the shutdown, the stress… maybe it would help to talk to someone. You deserve that support.”
The hesitation lingered but then she nodded, slow and cautious. “It’s not a bad idea.”
Relief surged through me, almost dizzying.
“I actually researched a few therapists,” I said, grabbing my phone. “I can send you a list with reviews. You can pick whoever feels right. This one has great reviews and has been practicing for twenty years, but this one could do in-person sessions if you are masked, and this on-"
She touched my arm and I stopped rambling.
“You can send it, Levi,” she said gently. Then she kissed my cheek, and I felt it all the way down to my toes. “Thank you. For handling the kids, the house, and for thinking of this. Even if it’s not something I wanted to admit we might need.”
I pulled her close, burying my face against her neck. “Anything for you. Anything to help with your mental load. I mean that.”
When I pulled back, I looked into her eyes and saw all the pain… all the history and hope too. Despite the date she had with Charlie, she was here with me in that moment. I searched the deep hazel of her eyes, admiring the golden flecks as I cupped her face. She leaned into me and I felt her body sigh.
Despite how much I wanted her to be free, to make her choices and find out what she wanted, I was terrified of losing her. As we watched each other, I think she knew. I could see it in the way she looked at me, and I poured every ounce of love in my hands, my eyes, my body towards her.
Delicately, she kissed my palm and I leaned down to kiss her softly, hovering long enough to let her change her mind.
She's the one who gets to choose, big guy.
Instead, she leaned in and we melted into each other, clinging onto each other like survivors. I lifted her gently onto the counter, my lips trailing along her neck, toward the edge of her blouse, where her breath began to catch.
Her legs parted instinctively as I stepped between them, her knees brushing my hips. I was careful with my hands, tentative, reverent, as I touched her thighs, trailing my palms upward as I reacquainted myself with her sacred heat.
She didn’t stop me, the open invitation a balm to my existence.
My mouth found hers again, slower this time, deeper. Her hands moved to my hair, fingertips curling, holding me there like she needed the closeness as badly as I did.
The tension that had stretched between us for months, the uncertainty, melted into the heat building in our shared breaths, building on the previous connections we had allowed ourselves to share. It didn’t erase what we’d been through, didn’t make things whole, but it was real.
It was everything.
I slid my hands under her blouse, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her breath caught when my thumbs grazed beneath the lace edge of her bra.
“Sloane…” I whispered against her mouth, asking her silently with every inch I crossed.
She responded with a kiss that was all tongue and emotion, pulling me closer by the front of my shirt, anchoring me to her. I didn’t need more permission than that.
I kissed down her throat, pausing at her collarbone, letting myself feel the way her body responded, tense at first, then gradually giving in. I paid attention to her breathing, ignoring the strain of my cock, balls so tight I felt like I would come any moment.
I was desperate to be in her, feel the connection of our bodies. I wanted to ravage and worship her all at once. My hands moved around her back, unclasping the bra with a muscle memory I'd honed from all our years together, and when I pulled the fabric away, she was stunning, bare and vulnerable in a way that stole my breath.
I took my time, allowing myself to simmer in the self-inflicted torment. As much as I wanted to ravage her, I couldn’t ignore the slow, undeniable pull of our bodies drawing together. I wanted her to feel pleasure in ways I had never given her.
I traced my tongue along her breastbone, kissed the soft curve of her chest, felt her tremble against me as her fingers curled around the back of my neck. She let out a low, shaky breath as I brought her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, hands keeping her steady. I chuckled at the way she squirmed under my teasing.
She gasped, her head falling back, exposing her throat. My name spilled from her lips. “Levi…”
My name from her lips? Good fucking god it undid me.
I lifted her, cradling her against my chest, and carried her into the living room where the lights were dim and the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the dishwasher, swish of the ceiling fan, and the distant sound of sirens.
We didn’t speak as I laid her down gently on the couch, her blouse undone, her jeans pulled slowly from her hips. She looked like a siren, no, a goddess, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of concern in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
