Page 79 of Seven Minutes
I shifted closer, giving him time to stop me if he wanted. When he didn’t, I trailed my hand up his arm, slow enough that I felt every shiver beneath his skin. His breath stuttered. Mine wasn’t much steadier.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” I murmured.
“It already hurts,” he whispered back. “Just… different places.”
Damn, he was killing me. His honesty and his need were a heady aphrodisiac after such an extended rift.
I leaned in and kissed him again, still slow, but with a pull behind it, a need coiling through both of us. His fingers curled into the front of my shirt, tugging me closer, guiding me with a kind of wordless urgency.
Eli’s mouth opened under mine, warm and familiar, and the tiny sound he made—a breath caught on wanting—went straight through me. God, I’d missed that. Missedhim.
I slid my hand into his hair, cradling him, keeping him angled however felt easiest for his leg. His pulse thrummed against my palm, fast, alive. He kissed me harder, as if trying to remind his bodyof what it felt like to take something for himself.
When we finally pulled apart, we stayed close, sharing the same thin line of breath.
“I’m going slow,” I warned, my forehead resting against his.
“I know.”
“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
“You won’t,” he whispered with conviction.
Eli’s hand slid to my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip, memorizing the shape of me all over again. I felt the tremble in his touch—the desire, yes, but also the fear, the hope, the unspoken plea.
He needed me as much as I needed him.
I kissed him again, deeper this time. My body wanted to devour him. My heart wanted to protect him. So I let both wants braid together into slow heat, gentle pressure, and deliberate caresses that lingered long enough to feel like claims but soft enough to make sure he never had to brace for pain.
His breath hitched as my hand slid beneath his shirt, fingers skating across familiar skin I’d ached to touch. He leaned into me, head tipping back just enough to let out a low exhale of surrender.
“Adrian.” My whispered name on his lips—threaded with need, reverence, longing—nearly buckled my restraint.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against his throat. “Every second. Every inch you’ll let me have.”
Eli shivered.
I moved slowly, giving him control of pace, depth, and closeness. Letting him guide me with small touches, softsounds, the way he arched into my hands. Every movement held intention. It wasn’t just desire; it was devotion, apology, and relief.
He pulled me down, kissing me with a hunger that surprised even him. I felt the moment he stopped being careful, the moment he stopped thinking about injury and hospitals and brokenness, and justwanted.
We stayed like that for a long time, moving together, breathing each other in, rediscovering a rhythm we thought we’d lost. Heat curled low and sweet between us, drawn out and deepened by patience, by love pressed into every touch.
I’d never been so hard in my life. So desperate to claim, or reclaim, something I’d thought was lost.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing careless.
Just two men remembering how to reach each other in the dark. How to speak without words, and how to listen.
Eli buried his face against my throat, shaking from more than exertion, and I held him tighter, whispering the only truth I had left—his name.
“More,” he breathed into my skin.
Something inside me stuttered. Want, but also the fierce, aching relief of hearing him ask for me instead of pushing me away.
I shifted, drawing him closer, my hands exploring the edges of what he offered. His breath stilted, his body moving with mine in a way that felt like longing rediscovered. He clung to me, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me in, guiding me with a desperation that wasn’t rough but raw.
