Page 70 of Through the Storm

So, I move, slow and obvious, giving her every possible exit. The mattress dips when I shift closer, the air between us changing. I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her to me, my face immediately going to her neck and breathing her in.

“I miss you,” I confess before I can stop myself.

She lets out a small, brittle laugh. “I miss you too… but I look like a giant balloon. Not exactly sexy.”

I shake my head. “You’re the most beautiful and perfect woman I’ve ever seen, Katy. I can’t stop looking at you. Thinking about you. Wanting you.”

She just looks at me, eyes a little shocked, like she didn’t expect that to be true.

My fingers brush her jaw, barely there, testing the space between us. She doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches, and it wrecks me.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.

Her answer is grabbing my face with both hands and pulling me to her.

The kiss is soft enough to hurt. Familiar enough to ruin me. Loving. Like she’s trying to tell me everything she’s never said out loud. And I know, God, I know, she’s always loved me.

She parts her lips, and every ounce of control I dragged in here starts slipping. I make a sound in my throat I don’t recognize.

I kiss her deeper, slower, trying to memorize the feel of her all over again.

“Katy,” I breathe against her mouth.

Her fingers slide into my hair. “Again,” she whispers.

So, I do.

I kiss her until we’re both breathing too hard for how little we’ve done.

My hand slides down her side, slow enough that she can stop me anytime. She doesn’t. It settles over the curve of her hip instead, thumb brushing lightly once, then twice.

Her breath catches. Mine nearly stops with it.

Katy looks at me with the same worshipful eyes she always has, like I’m somehow better than I actually am.

I kiss her again, deeper this time, but still careful. My hands shake, and I don’t hide it. I want her to see how much this means to me.

She takes my wrist in her hand and guides me lower, her eyes locked on mine the entire time.

The trust she has in me nearly undoes me.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” I whisper.

“Nothing will,” she whispers. “Please, Ben.”

So, I touch her like I have all the time in the world. Slow, careful, deliberate. Like every inch of her deserves apology and worship in equal measure.

Every change comes with a glance, a breath, a question. “Jesus,” I mutter when she arches into my hand.

She smiles, small and smug, and it nearly kills me. She finally relaxes under my hands inch by inch, tension melting away until she finally exhales.

It feels like victory.

Not long after, she falls asleep in my arms, my hand resting over her stomach, feeling the faintest movement like a secret only I get to know. No matter what any test says, these two are mine.

She shifts just enough to look at me. I kiss her forehead and keep my hand over both of them.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into the dark. “This time, I’m staying.”