Page 117 of Ricardo

It's not enough that she left him and came back to Chicago and got a new job. That was a physical separation. A new chapter. She thought she had let go of the baggage, but all she'd really done was put it away. She hadn't unpacked it.

This is the unpacking.

And it's messy. And it's painful.

And she is so, so brave for letting me help her do it.

She doesn't say anything.

She just nods, a small, jerky motion.

And that's all I need.

I lay her back down on the blankets, her head resting on the plush pillows. I settle beside her, my body propped on my elbow, and just look at her.

I look at the firelight flickering over her freckled skin. At the soft curve of her hip. At the way her breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes.

I look at the beautiful, broken, brave woman who has somehow managed to find her way to me.

And I feel something I haven't felt in a long, long time.

Hope.

I lean down and kiss her again. In the kiss, I tell her all the things I don't have the words to say yet. She kisses me back, her hands coming up to cup my face, her fingers tangling in my hair. She is no longer passive. She is an active participant.

She is choosing this.

Choosing me.

My hands start to explore her body, my touch reverent and worshipful. I trace the line of her jaw, the column of her throat, the delicate bones of her collarbones.

I cup her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her nipples, which bead into hard points under my touch.

She arches into me, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

I could spend hours like this. Just touching her. Learning her. Mapping every inch of her body with my hands and my mouth.

But I know she's not ready for that yet. She's still a little fragile, a little unsure. And I am still hard and aching, my cock pressing against her thigh, a reminder of what is still to come.

And what is still to come is the most important part of this. It's the final nail in the coffin of her past. It's the act that will truly reclaim her body as her own.

My hand drifts down, over the soft skin of her stomach, and back to the wet heat between her legs.

She tenses for a second, a flash of old hesitation in her eyes.

But then she relaxes, her legs falling open in a silent invitation.

I slide one finger inside her, then two. She is so wet, so ready for me. My cock throbs in response.

"I want... I want you," she whispers, her hips moving in a slow, rhythmic grind against my hand.

I smile against her skin. "I know, cuore mio. And I want you too."

I pull my fingers away, and she makes a soft sound of protest.

"Patience, tesoro," I murmur. "All good things to those who wait."

I kneel between her legs, and for a moment, I just look at her. Her body is bathed in the warm glow of the fire, her skin flushed with desire, her eyes dark with a hunger that mirrors my own.