Page 183 of Requiem
Nova claims the couch, stretching out with a dramatic sigh that makes Emma laugh harder.
I watch her for a second too long, as usual. And as she makes her way toward our bedroom, I look up at the painting she finished after we moved in. Before, it was only a dock with a guitar resting on it beneath a moon. I remember my heart breaking when I realized that she’d somehow painted my absence. Now it’s complete. Because Emma painted herself into it, with her head on my shoulder, and Nova on her other side. All of us at the end of that same dock, under that same moon.
My throat tightens in a way I don’t try to hide.
Emma follows my gaze and doesn’t say anything at first, just steps closer until her arms wrap around my neck. “Hey,” she says suddenly.
I look at her.
“I’m…I’m Emma Graves, now.”
Hearing her say our names together like that makes my heart do a little flip. “Yeah, you are.” I kiss her sweetly before leading her up the stairs.
I flick on the golden lamp as we step into our bedroom. I watch Emma open the French balcony doors, letting in cool summer air. For a moment, I just stare at her. My strong and beautiful girl.
My phone clatters onto the nightstand and connects to the Bluetooth speakers. Then“Outro”by M83 swells through the bedroom.
She stands there, looking out at the vast, dark ocean.My wife.
Just the word makes me want to drop to my knees before her. She turns toward me with that cute, excited look she gets for me, and I’m already moving. The distance between us closes in three strides because there is nothing in me tonight that wants distance.
My hand finds the curve of her jaw, and I kiss her like I’m relearning her mouth for the first time. It’s slow and careful, pulling a tiny whimper from her throat. Her hands rise to my shoulders, then flatten against my chest, fingers spreading over the fabric of my shirt.
I could kiss her forever, but I break away and spin her around gently. My fingers find the first knot at the back of her dress. I undo it, letting the silk slip loose. Another knot. Another. She exhales when my knuckle grazes her spine, a sound so soft it barely registers, but I feel it travel through my hand and settle deep in my fucking heart.
The final binding gives, and the dress slides down her hips, pooling at her feet. I press my lips to the slope of her shoulder, and for a moment, her entire body relaxes in my grasp.
I turn her back toward me and kiss her again, deeper this time, one hand sliding into her hair while the other spans the small of her back.
She moans into my mouth, and suddenly I’m walking her backward until her calves meet the bedframe. I lower her onto the mattress, her dark hair fanning across the forest green duvet, and I have to stop for a moment. Just look at her. Matching white lace bra and panties, chest rising and falling, eyes fixed right on me.
As much as I love seeing her in this, I love seeing her naked even more.
My jacket hits the floor. Then my tie. The buttons of my shirt resist for a second before I work them free, and I don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ink on my arms, then back to my eyes.
I lean over her, hands planted on either side of her ribs, and drag my mouth along the column of her throat. She arches up, the lace of her bra brushing my chest, and while I taste the salt and warmth of her skin, one hand works my belt free. Pants. Boxers. I kick them aside without lifting my head from her neck.
Her bra unclips with a pinch of my thumb and forefinger. I tug the straps down her arms, and then the panties—lace catching on her hips before sliding down her thighs, her knees, her calves. She’s bare beneath me now, and the sight of her makes my jaw clench.
“Come here,” I murmur, and I turn her.
She rolls onto her stomach without resistance or hesitation.Ugh, I love that.She trusts me to do what I want with her. I kiss the back of her neck as I guide her hips up, positioning her at the edge of the bed. My teeth graze the curve of her shoulder with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Then my fingers find her, and I sink two inside from behind.
She whimpers. That adorable, breathy little sound that makes me grit my teeth because of how perfect she feels. Tight. Wet.Mine.I pump into her slowly, opening her up, while my mouth traces a path across her shoulders, the nape of her neck, the delicate ridge of her spine.
Breathy moans fall from her perfect lips. My other hand cups her breast, thumb circling her nipple, and my cock presses hard against her ass. I don’t rush. I let my fingers work her, curling them just enough on each withdrawal to draw out that gasp, that stutter of her hips, that desperate little push back into my palm. I fucking love when she does that. I expertly play her body like my guitar. She’s panting now, forehead pressed to the mattress, and I feel her start to tighten around me.
She falls apart with a cry, and I stay knuckle-deep, drawing it out, feeling every pulse and flutter until she’s stopped whimpering. Only then do I line myself up.
“Okay?” I ask, my voice lower than I expect.
“Yes.” The word is barely a whisper.
I push into her. The first inch steals my breath. The next one makes her mouth fall open. I slowly work deeper until I’m fully seated, and I lean forward to press my lips between her shoulder blades. Both hands find her hips, fingers digging into her skin.
Even in this position, I still feel so close to her.
My eyes roll back at how fucking good my girl feels. I drag myself out, slow enough to feel every inch of resistance, then slam back in. Her gasp is swallowed by the music.
