Page 137 of Romancing in Rot

I roll the condom down my cock, restraint fraying with every second. Then I take her face in my hands one more time before I grab her hips and pull her off the tailgate, setting her feet on the ground. She lets me move her, breath still uneven, eyes locked on mine. Knowing exactly what she asked for and isn’t taking it back.

Good.

Because I’m done holding myself away from her.

I turn her, guiding her forward until her elbows brace against the open tailgate. My open flannel brushes her arched bare back. Her hair spills over one shoulder, and she rises onto her toes when I step in behind her.

Such a needy little thing.

I grab her ass hard, then slide one hand up her back.

Four tiny black stars trailing down her spine.

My hands still on them.

The stars are delicate, scattered down the center of her back, each one small and dark against her skin.

Her body shivers beneath my touch.

“They’re moments,” she says softly.

I trace the bottom one.

“Getting my teaching license.”

Another.

“Getting my GED.”

Another.

“Poppy’s birth.”

Every word aches. Pieces of her life. Proof she kept going. Proof she built herself out of everything that tried to break her.

I reach the top star.

Her breath trembles.

“The day I found out I was pregnant,” she whispers. A pause. Then softer. “The moment with you.”

Everything inside me goes quiet.

She carried that moment with her.

Marked it on her body.

Marked me.

All these years, I thought I was the only one holding on. The only one keeping pieces of her tucked away. Newspaper clippings. Old memories. A smile from across a football field.

But she kept something too.

I lift my thumb to my mouth, wet it, then drag a slow tally mark down her spine, right over the line of stars.

Her head drops forward, a shaky breath slipping from her mouth. “Now mark me again, Leon.”

I step closer, pressing myself against her from behind, one hand sliding over her stomach to hold her steady while the other grips her hip.