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Saturday, April 21, 2018

The Forever Night Stand by Bena Roberts 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)



Sara's world shatters when she stabs her husband's lover at a party. The press has a field day, and Sara moves from Scotland and her life of riches back to her parent's modest home in West London. She ditches her married name of MacDonald and becomes Sara Sharma once more. With no friends and little money, her electronic prison anklet a constant reminder of what she left behind.

Living back at home with her eccentric Bollywood loving parents is a challenge. It gets worse when Sara realizes how badly she let them down. For the sake of her family, she considers having an arranged marriage. Could she be the perfect wife again?

Just as she thinks she might, her childhood love George Wright walks through the door. Memories of the past come flooding back, including how he betrayed her. Sara vows never to forgive him, however hard he mixes things up.

Unreliable Narrative Books
If you enjoy tarnished unreliable hero stories like those from Gillian Flynn, Chuck Palahniuk or Sara Lotz mixed up with romance, then you will enjoy Sara's story.
Sara’s wild energy and unique perspective of the world is engaging and endearing. She’s a very unusual person, confined in her parents’ home and a very ‘normal’ world.

The Forever Night Stand Delivers heavy hitting and thought-provoking fiction without diminishing the entertainment factor.



Joe’s name brought back the smell of his intestines. I popped two painkillers into my mouth. Fish-gutting feelings lingered like glue on my soul and were a sign I needed my medication. I hadn’t premeditated the act; I didn’t wake up planning to stab Joe. it just happened. Some people have a call to the wild or whatever. I didn’t. The stabbing was my private battle with the dark side. For five minutes the dark side won, and I picked up the pieces.
Sounds great, doesn’t it? Like a movie. That’s what the jury thought, too.
I was the actress and the courtroom my stage.
Getting the story straight, cross-examination, remembering what I wanted to forget.
Brain fog from chemotherapy.
That part, genuine.
My speech, nothing like the reality.
The papers called me “Knife-Crazed Wife.” The Daily roared, “Man Stabber.” Other tabloids shouted, “Psycho Wife Knifes Husband’s Lover.” My love of Hitchcock made me partial to the latter. The headlines exaggerated. The man I stabbed was Joe. My husband’s work colleague, a family friend, champion and my personal-shopper. I knew now; he was a fraud, and in case you are wondering, no. I didn’t kill him.
But Paul was the perfect husband and my group of friends were like blu tack. St. Elmo’s Fire on the outside, ideal life, excellent friends. I craved that image for the whole marriage. Paul was rich, our home a dream, but his personality was more like Billy the Kid, too scared of hospitals to dote on me or drive me to my cancer treatments.
Yes. Blasted humiliating, but I didn’t talk about it. I was the great wife for a very long time. Some dirty laundry needed to stay dirty and locked away in the closet.
The day of the party, everyone was dressed up. It was my afterchemo party, and for a few minutes, I did feel like blu tack. But then it started dissolving when Paul and Joe embraced.
They giggled.
The slow strokes…the way Joe caressed Paul’s side.
I didn’t think anything of the sensual nature, but the looks of pity from my friends as they touched turned my stomach more than the after-effects of the chemo.
With every gesture the pitying looks intensified.
The knife rack in the kitchen; alcohol bubbles pumped through my veins.
The vault door opened.
Blood stains seeped into my skin, they permanently marked the rest of my life. I said that in court. Yes, i said that in court because it sounded dramatic, the fact that it wasn’t right, irrelevant. No. That
is not fair, it was horrible, and the stains would be there. But I didn’t regret hurting Joe.
Lies. How would you feel if you lost your best friend?
Yes. I know I stabbed him, don’t mention that now!
My new dress was bloodier than a butcher’s apron.
My body flew towards Joe; it was the blasted chemo side effects that saved Joe’s manhood; the carpal tunnel syndrome swayed my aim. Again, i didn’t admit it in court, but my hands aimed for his penis. It was the despair.
I was hurt.
Nightmares would ravage my dreams for the rest of my life. Well, at least that is what I told the lawyers. I needed to apologize; unreliable, my story foggier than my brain.
My sentence loomed.
The judge said, “Diminished responsibility.”
Did someone just stand up? I saw a baseball cap and a hat, who was that?
I didn’t jump; I didn’t smile, but I did continue to act like the good wife. To perform and to look were two different things. I sat for the space of a few breaths and then pulled my beanie hat over my cold ears, my contoured face still elegant, despite my hair loss. My lawyers hugged, Paul smiled, but I chose to ignore him. Paul’s glamourous sidearm was gone. I was now the awful wife, the even worse friend. My feelings for Paul emptier than a deserted parking lot. Joe? i couldn’t go there, not yet.
The real courtroom wasn’t like the movies. I had to sit in court through summaries of the trial and the judge’s comments which reminded me of when I found out I had cancer; I was Elizabeth Taylor. Famous for being strong! All lies, and all the wrong reasons. When chemo did start and my hair fell out, I didn’t want to be a film star. The movie was on repeat, the unpaid extra; same thing now. The judge’s words boomed through the court.
“Mrs. McDonald. We have been lenient with you today because of your pristine past and excellent character witnesses. However, what you did was a ghastly attack on someone close to you. You are the one that will have to live with your actions ...”
No tears came, time stretched out in slow motion; a zombie, turning off and on. I could hear but not listen. instead, the pain in my hands quadrupled every second and the symptom of every chemo ailment resurfaced. Eyes sore, the follicles in my head stabbing, mushrooms living in my mouth, spots on my body, cystitis and the loss of feeling in my hands and feet. The pain worsened until the judge finally fingered his hammer.
“…We have considered the three months you were detained in Edinburgh. There are three remaining months of your sentence, and you will receive a prison tag or electronic ankle monitor.”
Bang. it was over; all eyes were on me.
My life signed and sealed. Shafted from Scotland to England. I would go back to my parent’s home and I would have community service and electronic monitoring. The movie star, the demure wife didn’t react, but inside my body screamed, Haven’t I been humiliated enough? Then my consciousness caved in. My poor parents.

   


Secrets? by A.L. Simpson 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (M/M Romance)



Meet Kyle, a sexy, level-headed cowboy who also happens to be gay.

Luke is a police officer who was once the school football jock. He’s also gay.

After fifteen years apart, these men are set to meet again, but all is not as it seems.

Wires cross and misunderstanding has Luke running away, but Kyle has no intention of waiting another fifteen years for the man of his dreams.

Will these friends become lovers?

What is it that puts, Wendy, Kyle’s foreman in danger?

Why are the people Kyle cares about keeping Secrets?



CHAPTER ONE
KYLE
I gathered the reins on Grifter, my majestic black gelding and scanned the horizon one last time before turning toward home. I hoped I'd done enough to prevent the feral cats and foxes from taking down any more of the cattle. Electrifying the boundary fence had been costly and time consuming but, I couldn't keep Dufus in the barn for the rest of his days and couldn't risk losing my prized bull. The randy bull produced high quality calves which sold for a small fortune and it was what kept us making good money rather than just scraping by.
I galloped my mount across the open paddocks and felt the strength between my thighs as his muscles rippled and flexed. The horse's strides were lengthy, he loved to gallop flat out and he ate up the ground in no time. When I slowed to approach the barn, I noticed my foreman, Wendy, talking with someone. Someone who caused my groin to tighten and heart to beat faster. Even with his back to me, I knew who the curly blonde locks belonged to.
His shoulders were much broader than the last time I'd seen him, his hair longer and it lifted in the slight breeze. The jeans he wore were molded over one helluva sexy ass.
Wendy waved when she saw me approach and the man spun around to face me. My heart missed a few beats when he smiled, pressure mounted behind the zipper of the jeans as my cock thickened with interest.
"Luke Kelly." I barely whispered the words. It had been fifteen years since I'd last seen the man who'd haunted my dreams for more than half of my life. He'd gone off to university in the big smoke to study law and his family had moved away shortly after. I'd assumed Luke would be working in his father's legal practice in Brisbane. So, what was he doing here? It wasn't as if we'd ever been friends.
Wendy took the reins I held out and I dismounted. Luke took two long strides toward me, his hand outstretched. I knew it was a mistake the moment our fingers touched. A shudder cannoned through me and I fought to keep my composure as we shook.
"Kyle Walker, been a long time."
"Luke Kelly. It has been a long time. I guess you're working with your father, how's the legal business going? What brings you back here to Clearlea?" More specifically, my ranch.
"Didn't much like the business of being a lawyer so I joined the police force, worked out of the Gold Coast. I tired of being in the city though, missed being here in the country. I got a promotion to Detective Senior Sargent and requested a transfer here to take charge of your town."
"Congratulations, but why my place?"
"I heard your dad left the property to you and wanted to come by and say hi. I know we weren't friends or anything in school but, I always admired your ability to ignore those around you and get on with what you wanted to do."
"It wasn't hard to melt into the background when you're a country geek surrounded by football studs and cheerleaders."
"We never purposely ignored you, we…."
I waved my hand in the air. "Long time ago, Luke, water under the bridge. You still haven't answered me though, I find it hard to believe you only came out here to say hello. Was there something you needed?" Me? Please say me. Get your fucking head on the right way, Walker. Football Player. Cop. Straight!
I caught the glance he shot in Wendy's direction and it hit me. Straight guy remember and Wendy is one gorgeous woman. One very single, straight, gorgeous woman.
"Oh, sorry, you're here to see Wendy, I'll leave you to it."
I stepped away but was stopped in my tracks when Luke's large hand gripped the top of my arm.
"No, it's you I need to speak with. I kind of need a favor."



Tempted by the Viscount by Sofie Darling 💕 Pre-Release Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Historical Romance)



London, April 1825

Lord Jakob Radclyffe left his past behind in the Far East. Or so he thinks until a ruthless thief surfaces in London, threatening to ruin his daughter’s reputation. With the clock ticking, Jake needs the scandalous Lady Olivia Montfort’s connections in the art world to protect his daughter’s future.

Olivia, too, has a past she’d like to escape. By purchasing her very own Mayfair townhouse, she’ll be able to start a new life independent from all men. There’s one problem: she needs a powerful man’s name to do so. The Viscount St. Alban is the perfect name.

A bargain is struck.

What Olivia doesn’t anticipate is the temptation of the viscount. The undeniable spark of awareness that races between them undermines her vow to leave love behind. Soon, she has no choice but to rid her system of Jake by surrendering to her craving for a single scorching encounter.

But is once enough? Sometimes once only stokes the flame of desire higher and hotter. And sometimes once is all the heart needs to risk all and follow a mad passion wherever it may lead.


An image of tonight’s hostess came to mind. Of her surface . . . Her eyes fluttering shut, lashes dark against her pale skin, parted lips reaching up, up, up . . . And her depths . . . The quality that made him want to forget his place, his purpose, himself, and dip his head and claim those lips until they were satisfied, sated. As if a mere kiss could accomplish satisfaction and satiety between them.
A soft swish of skirts whispered behind him, and a voice sounded in his ear. “Does it disappoint? Disappointment can leave one feeling decidedly unfulfilled.”
Jake looked right, and the room fell away. There she stood, throwing that word at him again. Disappointment. The idea that he’d disappointed her had gnawed at him since yesterday. And now she was throwing another word into the mix.Unfulfilled.
While he had no desire to leave this woman disappointed, he certainly didn’t want to leave her unfulfilled. In fact, under a different set of circumstances for their acquaintance, he wouldn’t walk away from this woman until she was thoroughly . . . exhaustively . . . fulfilled, satisfied, sated . . .

💕 To be released June 27 💕


Friday, April 20, 2018

Sweet Obsession by A.M. Salinger 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (M/M Romance)



He is the one person I love more than life itself. The one person I will do my utmost to protect. The one person I can never touch — Luke

He is the only one I have ever wanted. The only man I would ever need for as long as I breathe. But he doesn’t love me. No, he hates me —Ash

Ash Colby wants nothing more than to free himself of the man who broke his heart the night he turned seventeen. But when Luke Rutherford, his former guardian and heir of Rutherford Industries, forces him to move from his quiet college life in Stanford to the other side of the world, Ash snaps and decides to confront Luke about their past.

Luke has loved Ash since he was a child and been in love with him for over half a decade. Having protected Ash from the woman who wanted to hurt the young Colby heir in the past, Luke must act swiftly in order to keep Ash safe from harm once more. But when his bold move backfires on him, Luke must face the consequences of the decision he took on the night Ash turned seventeen.

Will Ash forgive Luke when he discovers the truth behind the terrible act he witnessed five years ago? And as the walls Luke had erected to protect Ash from his lust come crumbling down around him, will he overcome his guilty conscience and finally admit his true feelings for Ash?

If you like sweet, sexy men with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to win their hearts, then you’ll love this novella in the hot, contemporary romance series Nights by A.M. Salinger. Note from the author: Although each book in Nights can be read as a standalone, you will enjoy this series even more if you read the books in order!

This is a novella length MM romance with a HFN. Luke and Ash’s HEA is coming in 2018!



This asshole!
Ash Colby scowled at his watch. He took a shallow breath, uncrossed his legs, and propped his elbows on his knees. The motion brought pain surging across his temples. The migraine had been with him for the last two hours. Although he would have loved to blame it on the humidity of Singapore’s late September monsoon season, Ash knew his current circumstances had led to the headache jackhammering against his skull. The fact that he’d just gotten off a seventeen-hour flight from San Francisco wasn’t helping either.
Ash rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before glaring at the secretary seated behind the modern walnut desk to his left.
“He knows I’m waiting, right?” Ash snapped.
John Peace sighed and nudged his smart, black-rimmed specs up his nose.
“Yes, Ash. Luke is aware that you’ve been waiting a while.”
“Forty fucking minutes is not a while, John,” Ash said between gritted teeth.
“Language, Ash,” the secretary murmured.
Ash looked around the chic marble and wood waiting room overlooking a panoramic vista of the dazzling city and sun-kissed bay beyond the glass wall behind the secretary’s desk.
“There’s no one else here.”
John ignored Ash’s acerbic observation and studied him steadily.
“You look a bit peaky. Would you like some water?”
Ash scowled. He knew the secretary was only trying to be helpful, but he was past caring at this point.
“No, I don’t want fucking water, John. I want to know why my lord and master has summoned me all the way here from Stanford five days before term starts.”
Ash couldn’t help grind his teeth as he recalled the terse phone conversation from two days ago. The motion exacerbated the band of tension gripping his head and raised his ire further.
“Luke would like to see you,” John had said coolly when he’d called Ash at eight on a Sunday morning.
Ash frowned as he walked through the front door of his condo. He dropped his gym bag on a chair and headed to his bedroom.
“What’s this about, John?” he said, irritated. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, and fell backward onto the sheets. “And when did he get back to San Francisco?”
John hesitated. “He isn’t in San Francisco.”
Ash blinked at the ceiling before slowly sitting up, his incredulity quickly turning to anger.
“Wait a minute. You’re telling me Luke is in Singapore and he wants me to go there to see him? Fuck no!” he growled.
John sighed. “This is important, Ash. You know Luke wouldn’t make such a request unless it was an urgent matter.”
Ash rubbed a hand across his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no denying the truth in the secretary’s words.
Luke Rutherford, Ash’s former guardian and the current custodian of his rather substantial trust fund, was not a fickle man.
Ash inhaled shakily and tried to quell his rising temper. “Can you at least tell me what this is—”
Someone took the phone from John.
Ash froze when Luke came on the line.
“A car is coming to pick you up in thirty minutes. Pack a bag and be ready. The jet’s already at the airport.”
Ash stared blindly ahead as the line suddenly went dead. He listened to the dial tone for a stunned moment before flinging the phone across the room and throwing himself back on the bed. A cry of rage left Ash’s lips as he raked his hands through his hair. Despite the fury and frustration burning in his veins at Luke’s outrageous command, Ash could not help the shudder of awareness that raced through him after hearing Luke’s voice.
It had been over a year since they last spoke.
For one insane moment, Ash considered not obeying the man who quite literally owned him, body and soul. The man he had been in love with for as long as he could remember. The man who had broken his heart and shattered his dreams five years ago, on the night of Ash’s seventeenth birthday.
The thought of the possible reprisals Luke would visit upon him if he did not get on that plane sent a quiver of apprehension through Ash. The guy was capable of anything. Just as Luke had promised, the car arrived promptly at eight thirty and Ash lifted off from San Francisco International Airport an hour later.
Ash sighed, his thoughts returning to his current predicament as he leaned back on the expensive Barcelona chair and propped his feet on the coffee table. He ignored John’s disapproving stare and indicated the walnut door opposite from where he sat with a jerk of his head.
“So, who does he have in there? Must be someone damn important if he’s ignoring me for this long.” Ash paused. “Not that the asshole doesn’t ignore me on a regular basis anyway.”
John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t keep calling Luke an asshole, Ash. And, yes, he’s got his asset manager in with him right now. Mr. Sorvino flew in from Tokyo yesterday and is heading straight to Japan after their meeting.”
“Yippee for Mr. Sorvino,” Ash muttered. “Lucky bastard. I hope I’m back on the jet tonight as well.”
John hesitated. He opened his mouth and closed it soundlessly.
A tendril of unease shot through Ash as he stared at the secretary’s face. He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” John murmured.
Ash was still studying him suspiciously when Luke’s door opened. A man walked out of the office.
The stranger was tall and dark, with a commanding presence that had as much to do with his handsome face and his arresting gunmetal eyes as it did with his incredibly ripped body. Had Ash not been unreservedly in love with Luke, he would have found the guy captivating.
A figure appeared behind the asset manager. Ash’s mouth went dry when Luke stepped out of the room.
At six foot two, Luke Rutherford’s hard bodied, toned frame more than matched the man beside him. With dark hair that most women would kill to sink their hands into, finely trimmed stubble that framed a strong, angular jaw, and amber eyes that had the power to silence a crowded room, Luke Rutherford was not only sinfully attractive, he was also the embodiment of a successful businessman and billionaire.
Ash swallowed.
Sexy fucker.



Flesh Into Fire by JA Huss & Johnathan McClain 💕 Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Romantic Suspense)



Payback is owed.

And Maddie Clayton is going to collect. This time Carlos and Logan have gone too far. People are dead, lives have been changed, and she’s had enough. Plus, she’s got the Devil on her side, so when an enemy turns into a friend with an idea of how to take Carlos down, she’s in.

Tyler Morgan has been fighting back his whole adult life. He’s ready for anything when it comes to payback. But endangering Maddie can’t be part of the deal. Unfortunately for him, once Maddie gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

Her debt has been paid in blood and she wants revenge.
His fight is still there, but now he’s got more at stake than himself.

The end is coming.
But even if they win against Carlos, they can still lose each other.




TYLER

I roll our interlaced fingers over so that I can see the back of her hand. It’s strong, but delicate. Long fingers and white skin. Veins that tense with the clench of her grip. Freckles. Just a few light, faint, perfect freckles.
I have the same thought I had the other day. That I want to learn her. Her body. Every millimeter of her. I want it burned into my brain. I want to imprint her into my memory before she goes. I want to study her. I want to have a PhD in Maddie Clayton.
I let go of her hand and stand up, turn to face her and then kneel down.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I don’t say anything. She’s not wearing shoes, so I start tugging at the toes of her socks and she giggles as I work them off her legs and then hold her precious feet in my hands, examining them. I stroke the bones that run along the top, ending at the tips of her toes, and I kiss each toe one by one.
I turn them over to inspect the scar I found the other day, and I give it a kiss. Then I spread her legs and slide in between them, popping my head up to give her a kiss on the lips, before I unbutton her jeans and draw down the zipper. She leans back, propping herself on her elbows, and shimmies her hips as I pull her pants down. They’re so tight on her, so fitted, that they draw her underwear along with them as I pull, and then the pants are off her body and on the floor, and her bare calves, and knees, and thighs, and pussy are there for me to explore.
Still leaning back on her elbows, she tilts her head to the side, presses her lips together in a tight smile, and raises her eyebrows at me.
I lift one of her legs and place my face right next to it. Like an archaeologist exploring the contours of a priceless, ancient artifact.
Her smell. Her smell will be the thing that I know I will hold onto most. It’s always been that way for me. Smell is the most potent sense I have when it comes to triggering memories. When I smell cinnamon, I remember my mom. Because she was baking when she collapsed that last time after chemo. And so that’s the smell I choose to associate with my final memory of her, as opposed to the antiseptic smell of the hospital. Because that wasn’t her anymore anyway. Mom stayed in the kitchen. Only the shell of her stuck around for a couple weeks more in the hospital bed.
Anyway.
Right now, Maddie smells like freshly cut grass. She’s been packing and getting ready to leave all day, and it’s been weirdly warm of late, so she’s a little sweaty. And that smell—that pungent, dense, round smell of sweat on her skin that fills my nostrils—reminds me of summer. Which I love. Because I suppose that means that for the rest of my life, there’ll be an entire season where every day all I’ll be able to think about is her. Even though I don’t imagine needing a lot of prompts to steer my thoughts in her direction.
As I stroke my fingers along her leg, kissing as I go, and drinking in her scent with every breath, she drops down from her elbows, letting herself lie flat on her back, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. She traces her fingers up and down the line of her stomach, pushing her t-shirt up to the curve of her breasts as I continue my survey of her flesh.
I’m discovering things. Things that no one else on earth besides me will know.
Her right calf appears just infinitesimally stronger than her left. Her left knee is the teeniest bit knobbier than her right. And when I kiss her behind either of her knees, she shudders through her stomach, causing her toes to crinkle.
As I pass the bend in her knee, I draw my nose along the inside of her thigh. She wriggles a teeny bit as my beard moves along her soft skin. And then my mouth is right at the brink of her entrance. I take my thumb and run it along the pink folds and she lets out a “mmmmm.” I tilt my head, studying my fingers as they massage her tender skin, and take note of what sound each gesture evokes from her.
Kissing tenderly on her opening causes her to growl from somewhere deep inside her throat. So I do. I kiss, and I let my warm breath signal my presence, but I don’t want to penetrate her. Not this way. If she wants me to be inside her, I will happily oblige, but for now I just want to be here with her and hold her close.
And I will.
And I will hold her close in my thoughts every second that she’s gone.
But more importantly...
I will hold her in my heart.


MADDIE

Some people search their whole life looking for that one place they belong. For that one person who gets them. Who brings them into their world, lets them fall easily into the pull of their gravity, and lets them just… be. Just exist. Quietly. Naturally. Freely. This is Tyler for me. The center of my universe. The man around whom I now orbit.
Not like a satellite, either. But like… like two things meant to be one. Like long ago something crashed into us, broke us into little pieces, and left us adrift. Floating in directionless space. Spinning wildly with no tether. And now we’ve been pulled back together. And we circle each other, still spinning, but with the purpose of joining. Of becoming one thing again. Not because of tragedy, the way I’d imagined when I sent that letter. It’s not a lifeline of salvation connecting us now, but some force of nature we can’t explain, or control, or bend to our will. Some law of the universe that dictates the fate of things.
We are connected by something more powerful than shared sorrow. And every moment we’ve spent apart has been valuable. Necessary. Critical.
His mouth between my legs feels wonderful. I could close my eyes and enjoy it. Let myself reach the heights of pleasure.
But alone?
No. I’m done doing things alone. We’re connected now. And everything we do will be together.
So I whisper, “Tyler,” as I caress his head. Run my fingers through his hair. Touch his shoulders. Slide my fingertips up and down the hills and valleys of his muscular arms.
He looks up at me, his eyes smiling even though they’re half closed, even though his mouth is still working. His tongue still flicking against my pussy.
“Come up here,” I say. “And kiss my mouth.”
Now he smiles with his whole face. His hands plant on either side of my hips and he draws himself up to standing. He lifts his t-shirt over his head and undoes his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, and his nakedness reminds me that he has lived every single day of his time on this earth.
He leans onto the bed and eases forward. My legs open wider for him, welcome him between them as his cock—hard, and long, and ready—rests against my clit, making me want him.
If we stopped right now, if he just rested his chest on top of my breasts, became nothing more than heavy weight as he closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell asleep… I’d be content, happy, and satisfied.
And not because there’d be more chances to do this later. But because it’s him I want. Not the sex.
He leans down, his hands on either side of my head now. Bending the mattress the way spacetime bends around a sun. And when his lips reach mine, my eyes are closed.
And I fall again.
I fall far, and long, and easily. The same way I drifted towards him. And as I drift, weightless, we kiss. But I’m still connected to him. Always next to him. Because this is what it feels like to fall into someone, not away.
This is not me slipping down the mountain.
This is not me losing my footing.
This is me finding myself. In him. In us.
So when I reach my hand between my legs and place him right where he needs to be, he enters me. And all those broken, spinning pieces come together to once again create the thing we were always meant to become.
Our bodies move together. Perfectly synchronized. Like the dance of stars in space. His body is hot, and my body is hot, and the heat we create between us doesn’t burn like fire but rearranges us. Like the molecules of two metals mixing to form the strongest sword made of the very best steel.
Our lovemaking is slow. And perfect.
We reach the heights of pleasure together. As one. And it’s the kind of climax that only happens once in a lifetime. The kind of release that means more than the way it makes you feel. It tells you who you are, and who you’re with, and exactly where you fit in the grand scheme of things.
He says, “I love you, Madison.”
And I say it back. “I love you, Tyler.”
We mold ourselves into each other as we relax and grow sleepy. Our bodies back together. His arms around me. My back pressed against his chest.
Our hearts beating. Keeping time.
Becoming what we were always meant to be.