A/N - So it turns out you're not the kind of group who mind a little smut now and again then? haha Seriously, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews last chapter. So many of them made me laugh out loud.

In honour of the return of CPD, I have decided to update today. So this chapter is probably an M rated one too so if any new readers have just found this story and are offended, it's probably best to skip this update. I'm trying my very best to update frequently, but I'm back at work now so it'll probably be down to two a week at the very most. Blame the British government for their obsession with exam results.

At least you get a nice long chapter this time. Show your love with a review? ;) x

Let Me Love You

There's this patch of skin on Erin's legs - the inside of her thighs; around a couple inches lower than her centre, to be exact - that is so indescribably soft that there's literally nothing in the world I can compare it to. She's been asleep for the past three hours, breaths deep and even and beautifully untroubled, and my hand has been resting on that patch of skin the entire time, just drawing patterns while I contemplate our earlier actions.

I slept for maybe a half hour before the guilt of risking her independence and recovery because I couldn't keep it in my pants woke and consumed me. She inches closer - if it's possible - and the cotton material of my t-shirt she's wearing rides up so the bottom of her stomach is exposed along with her entire lower half. My brain might be feeling guilty but my dick sure as hell isn't. I twist carefully, hiding the evidence of what she does to me so that if she wakes, the first thing she's met with isn't my body's need for a fix - of her.

I don't know how to be what Erin needs. I've started to wonder, while lying here with her in my arms, whether asking her on that date last night was a mistake because even though what we did afterwards was exactly what I've been wanting for a long time (and, apparently, what she's been wanting too), it wasn't what I should have done. I should have taken her to a bar for coffee, dropped her back at her apartment and kissed her goodnight. I've taken advantage in a moment of weakness on both of our parts and I'm so angry at myself.

Erin stirs a little, and without thinking, I press my lips against her warm skin in comfort. She relaxes again and I feel a sense of disgust with myself rise in my stomach. I need to get out of this bed.

The living room provides little sanctity what with her coat hanging by the door and her boots sitting neatly next to mine. The mugs we didn't drink from earlier sit on the kitchen counter, taunting me with their emptiness until I put hers away and pour myself a large dose of the black stuff I brewed but never drunk. It tastes old but it's strong enough to combat the fact I haven't slept properly in over 48 hours because all I can think about all of the time is Erin.

I pick up the sweater she took off me earlier and I'm instantly transported to her fingers on my skin - delicate yet rough and urgent at the same time - and her chest pressed to mine. How is it, I wonder, that one person can consume you? Thing is, I want her to. I want to think about her every second of every minute of every day and I want my bedding to smell like her when I go to sleep. I want the way she says my name to be echoing in my ears because it's all proof she was here.

"Jay?" Her voice, though low and soft, makes me jump. I turn to see her resting against the wall, my t-shirt now covered by the police hoodie she's worn before. Somewhere in the back of my brain, it registers that her feet are covered by a pair of my boot socks as she continues. "What are you doing out here?"

She makes her way over to me and I want her to stay by the wall so she's safe from any advances I might make in spite of myself. I just can't trust myself around her. "Couldn't sleep."

She comes closer still, perching on the edge of the coffee table so I have no choice but to look at her. Her hands cover mine and I feel her take the mug from me, then watch as she takes a small sip, pauses, then takes a larger one. "Coffee's not gonna help."

I manage to curve my lips into a small smile. "Probably not."

She tries and fails to stifle a yawn. "Will you come back? To bed I mean."

"I uh…" I swallow and keep my eyes cast down. "I was going to take a shower. But you should go back to sleep. Get some rest."

She sets the mug down on the wood and waits. I know she wants me to look at her. When I don't, I hear her whisper the quietest "okay," before she rises and heads back towards the bedroom. I hate myself all over again.

X

The weak sunlight of a cold February morning comes slowly, by which point I've already made a breakfast I'm pretty sure neither of us are going to eat. Erin hasn't come out of my bedroom since our early morning exchange and I don't want to go in there in case she's still sleeping and I wake her.

When she finally does enter the living room, she's wearing her dress from last night but there's something different in the way she's wearing it. Like, it doesn't fit the same, doesn't hug her in all the right ways.

"You want some pancakes?" I ask her, but all she does is eye me, the stack on the counter and the one plate set on the table before shaking her head. "There's plenty."

"You not eating?"

"I uh...I'm not really hungry so…"

She nods. "Got it."

"So you want some?"

A bitter laugh accompanies her reply. "I'm just gonna get going. I've got work later. All weekend actually."

That final statement should be accompanied by a proud smile but it's not and I know that's because of me. "Erin…"

She holds up her hand. "You don't have to say anything."

I do though. And I want to. The words fail to come. "Thank you," she adds. "For last night. I haven't...well, there were a lot of things I haven't had before."

Someone kill me because this girl deserves so much better. "I'll call you," I manage to grit out.

She shrugs. "Okay." She doesn't think I'm going to. I will. When I've figured out how I'm not going to be the reason she breaks. How to make this up to her.

"Let me give you a ride."

"Really, Jay," she says softly, pulling on her boots. "You don't have to."

I should've dropped her home last night. "Let me anyway."

X

All day, I hope for a phone call from Voight saying we have a case to work; that we gotta go in. It never comes. Instead, I spend the morning after dropping Erin off at her place cleaning my apartment even though nothing is dirty. Perhaps the only thing that does need doing is a change of sheets on my bed, but that would mean the new ones on there won't smell like her and I don't want to go to sleep tonight without the scent of vanilla. I leave the sheets as they are. Something tells me I'm not going to sleep much anyway.

I know she's working tonight and the self-control I have to exercise not to go over there is immense, but I just about manage it by way of a single beer and sheer exhaustion. I'm asleep on the couch, passed out in front of a Cheers re-run when I wake with a jump at the banging on my door. I glance at my watch and frown. It's too early to be Erin - she's working right now...unless…

My heart is pounding in anticipation as I reach the door, but when I yank it open, I'm met with the disappointing faces of Ruzek, Atwater and Dawson. Even combined, they're not in the same league as Erin. As Ruzek holds up a twelve-pack with a grin, I regret opening my door. I want to shut off from the world and fall into a sleep where I can dream of the girl I can't get enough of. I realise, in that moment, that I'm jealous of a bar.

"Get the game on man!" Dawson exclaims, breezing past me and towards my couch.

"What?"

"The Cubs are playing! We talked about coming over the other day."

I remember and groan inwardly because they're going to be in my apartment for the next three hours and all I want to do is sleep. I force a smile as I'm handed a beer and Dawson takes charge of the remote.

Partway through the game, right as Hendricks has just pitched an absolute blinder, I start to think that I wouldn't mind watching a game with Erin curled up on my lap. And by wouldn't mind, I mean really want to. I'd even be happy if she was complaining that she didn't understand the rules or if she was alternating stealing sips of my beer and kisses pressed against my lips. If anything, I'd prefer to watch the game that way.

I spend the remainder of the final two innings thinking about how empty my bed is going to feel tonight and silently make up my mind not to drink any more so I can head over to Erin's place later. I've got to apologise - for everything.

X

If it's possible, I think I might be even more nervous standing outside of her door tonight than I was last night. The guys finally left my place just before midnight, after I'd put a cap on Ruzek consuming my tequila like it was water and text Kim to tell her to make sure there's aspirin in her bathroom cabinet for the morning.

It's late, but if she was working tonight, she's only likely to have been home maybe a half hour, and so I don't feel too bad about not having called first. Besides, after reliving the way she looked at me when I dropped her off earlier this morning, I don't think she would have answered my calls anyway.

I take a deep breath and finally bring my hand up to knock three times against the world's worst excuse for a front door. I'm sure there must be a ton of building regulations being breached by her apartment alone, let alone this whole building. There's a light on - I can see the dim stretch of yellow in the gap between the door and the floor - so I know (or can at least assume) she's home. I wait around twenty seconds with a thumping heart, and I'm just bringing my fist against the door again when it opens in front of me and my whole world crashes with a single blow.

"Did I hear the...oh," Erin's voice trails off from inside of her apartment - the entrance to which is currently blocked by Kelly Severide. I want to yell or punch something (him, probably - or the wall) or build a time machine so I never came here and witnessed her in a pair of navy lace french underwear, clearly having had sex. I know that hair. The image of his shirtless torso with her crossing the hallway behind is now forever going to be burned into my mind.

None of us move. I don't think I can.

My legs feel like lead and my skin is absolutely burning - and not in the way it was last night. I know Severide is staring at me but I'm staring at Erin, who looks a mixture of pissed that I'm here, and ashamed of herself.

"You uh…" Severide starts. "Want to come in?"

Erin is still staring. Her chest is rising up and down rapidly under the material of her tank top and I'm pretty sure mine is doing the same. There's a shake to her hands that I can't determine is a result of my being here, withdrawal symptoms, a come down from a sex high (although she didn't get that last night) or because she's had something to drink and her body is reacting to it. It had better not be the last one because if it is, I'll have no issue in punching the lieutenant for giving it to her.

Her lips part as if she's going to speak but no words come out and I watch her force her throat into complying with the act of swallowing. My own is thick and I know I'm going to have to do or say something because we can't all just stand here for the next hour looking at each other.

"No," I manage to grit out and the mere effort involved in keeping my voice level exhausts me all over again. "I uh...I shouldn't have come."

I just about manage to turn on the spot with limbs that don't feel as though they're attached to my body and a heaviness in my chest that's only there because I fucked up last night. There's a voice - quiet and small and saying my name - that trickles into the air as I'm half-way down the stairs but I have no idea if it really has left Erin's lips or if it's just my imagination. I don't stop my descent to find out.

I don't recall the drive back to my apartment; don't remember any details about the weather or the roads I take (even though my heart knows them by rote anyway) or which stores are open, whether I run a red light or not. My phone doesn't ring. I don't know if I expect it to or not, but the fact that I recognise the lack of vibration probably gives away my answer.

There isn't enough alcohol in my apartment to block out what I just saw and so I park up out front and head down the block to the store for enough bourbon to drown out my thoughts. To drown out Erin. No, not to drown out Erin. To drown out Erin and Severide. Together. The guy behind the glass takes one look at me, nods when I hand him the fifty and bids me a better night when I get my change. I think I'd laugh if I had the energy.

You know what's overrated? Glasses. I skip the creation of extra washing up in the morning and drink straight from the bottle because let's face it, pouring just slows you down. The burn of the liquid as it washes down my throat and into the pit of my stomach feels good, but not as good as Erin's fingers massaging my scalp. That'd get me to drift off in a heartbeat. I curse myself - out loud (who's here to judge?) and with aggression - because I didn't just spend close to fifty dollars on a bottle of Eagle Rare to fantasise about a massage I'm not gonna get.

Somewhere between sip twelve and gulp seven, I decide to mentally list all of the ways in which my life would be better without Erin Lindsay in it. Want to know how many reasons make it onto said list? One. This one. This anger-pain hybrid I've got going on because I fell in love with her, couldn't find the words to tell her, slept with her because I couldn't control myself, didn't sleep with her because I felt too guilty, and pushed her away because I didn't call to apologise. I confirmed her suspicions.

I put the bottle down on the coffee table in defeat and head to my bedroom.

My bed smells of her. Of course it does, because I didn't change the sheets and I wanted this: this torturous vanilla-coconut heaven that crashes over me once I hit the mattress. I don't wear anything to sleep in - don't want to miss her fingers curled into the waistband of my pajama pants. I think I hate her a little bit.

I don't hate her. I love her all the time.

X

Even when I woke up in the hospital after being shot, I've never felt this disorientated. I have no idea of the day, date, time or why the hell I feel like I've been hit by a truck until I inhale a little too deeply and choke on the bile that rises in my throat when I remember trying to drink my way through a bottle of bourbon that was never my friend. Shit. Erin and Severide.

Just the thought of dragging my sorry ass to the bathroom in order to shower is so distinctly unappealing that I actively pull the sheets tighter around me. Bad move. A tidal wave of Erin's scent crashes over me, followed by the realisation that I'm about to vomit everything I drank last night.

Wincing as I crash to my knees in front of the toilet bowl, I manage to make it just in time before the contents of my stomach end up staring me in the face in scathing judgement. It takes me a good half hour to psyche myself up enough to get in the shower, after which I feel slightly better, but I don't make it any further than the door before I have to vomit again.

Only after I've heaved the last remaining contents of my stomach into the toilet, then brush my teeth, do I trudge to the kitchen in search of my hangover/breakup mug to fill with coffee. Seems apt enough. A quick glance at the clock - and then a secondary one to confirm what I think I've just seen - tells me it's already early afternoon and I groan because I'm almost definitely going to have to face Voight tomorrow still feeling the effects of this hangover.

I finish my mug of coffee, then top it up again before my fingers find Erin's number in my phone. Before I can chicken out or wind myself up, I send a quick text asking if she's free later. We really, really need to talk. The reply comes around an hour later and it's as curt as I'd expected it might be:

I'm working tonight.

Fine. I'll see her at Molly's. This can't wait any longer. I can't wait any longer.

X

The air is freezing as I park my car close enough so that I won't feel the cold too much on my way in. The walk isn't long enough for me to regret not bringing a warm coat; the jacket around my top half does just enough to stave off the crawling chill of the night air, but I can tell from the fogged up windows of the bar that inside, it's warm.

I see her as soon as I get through those doors and there's a rising heat flushing up my spine and the back of my neck, through my ears and all the way up to my forehead. She's wearing a low-cut white shirt that makes her look half-angel, half-sinner, and you know what? I just want to pull her into my arms, whisk her out of there and barricade us inside of my apartment for the next year so that I can apologise, we can make up and nobody can shatter the peace.

She catches my eye and deliberately turns the other way in a pointed statement of making me feel even worse than I already do. But Erin Lindsay is not winning this one.

In a move bolder than I've probably ever been, I march toward where she's serving vodka club sodas to a few guys from Rescue Squad 3 - one of them being Severide - and command her attention. "Erin."

Quickly, she takes the money being held out to her, practically snatching the twenty out of an outstretched hand before turning to me with cold eyes.

"What?"

"Why'd you do it?"

We move around the corner a little so she's out of the squad's earshot. "Because he wanted it and you didn't."

She can't be serious can she? Would she really think I didn't want her like that? "Of course I did."

She scoffs. Her eyes narrow and her words are laced with venom. "I had clients that held me longer than you did."

I feel sick at her words. At the image she's painted. At that fact that anyone else besides me has ever laid even a finger on that porcelain skin. She's trying to hurt me on purpose; to push me away. Just like I did yesterday morning. Something inside of me snaps and I take hold of her arm firmly, guiding her through the opening in the bar. "You're on your break."

"Get your hands off of me!" she hisses but I refuse, leading her outside. We're going to do this right now and she's going to listen. The air is absolutely bitter and she's not wearing anywhere near enough clothing but I don't care. For once, I'm going to be selfish because I'm worried that if I don't take my chance now, I'll never get another.

"You think I didn't want to do what we did?" I'm trying to keep my voice low but the emotion is making it rise. "Well you're wrong. I did want it. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to hear you saying my name like it was the only word in the world. I wanted to lay in that bed with you afterwards and never let you out of my arms again. But I realised as I was looking at you that I'd compromised everything you're working towards because I lost my self-control at the time you needed me to have it the most. And I knew that if you woke up while we were still lying there, that I'd lose that control again. Because I can't think properly when I'm around you," I know I'm gasping for breath because my chest is heaving but her eyes are sharp and there's a look in them that's urging me on.

"Then what are you doing with me Jay?" she asks in a tone so devoid of self-belief that it makes me want to punch the wall in frustration that I can't get her to see what she's worth.

"I'm trying to love you Erin!" I practically scream. "And you won't let me!"

It's silent for way too long. Her chest is heaving too and her eyes are cloudy with unshed tears.

"Just let me love you." With her mouth parted, I think she's finally heard me.

"You don't get to be the first person to say that if you don't mean it."

I'm pretty sure there's no air in my lungs. The first person? She's never had anyone tell her they love her? I make my mind up here and now: she's going to hear those words every day of her life from now on. First thing in the morning. Last thing at night. When she's doing dishes. When she's sick. When she smiles with those dimples. When she burns toast and eggs and accidentally puts milk in my coffee. Those words start now.

"I love you, Erin. I mean it. And I should've said it a long time before now but-" I don't get to finish the rest. Her lips - gorgeous and soft - cut me off in a seal over my own and I can't help the gruff moan that resonates at the back of my throat when she pulls me tighter against her. There's not an inch between us but she still doesn't feel close enough. I wrap my arms behind her, cupping my hands so they form a softer pillow than the wall so I can tilt her head just the way I know she wants me to - the way I learned, the other night, makes her toes scrunch up and her fingers grab for any section of my skin she can find.

When we finally break apart - only for our lungs to gather in enough oxygen, and not because either of us want to - I notice her eyes are glazed. There's a momentary minute of panic where I can't tell if it's drugs or alcohol or something else, but the fog clears when she sucks in a breath and I realise I put that look there. You'd have to cut the smile off my face right now.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, pressing my lips to hers again because I can't get enough. I'll never get enough. "I'm so sorry."

Erin shakes her head defiantly. "It was my fault. I -"

"- Never." I won't have her blaming herself. This was on me.

We hear a voice - Gabby's, I think - calling for Erin and I'm forced to pull myself away from her, to smooth down her hair and run my hands along her arms to keep her skin from turning red in the cold.

"Be right there," she calls and we share a grin. The grin has dimples.

"So you need a ride home tonight or…"

"That'd be good."

My day has literally done a 180. "Call me when you finish. I'll come get you."

I lay my lips against hers one more time before I start to pull away, but Erin's hand is on my arm. "You could stay?" she asks, offers, tells me? "I should get off in an hour or so. I could make you some coffee?"

I can't help the laugh that escapes my lips because I've tasted the coffee she makes and it is not that good. I'd still pay too much for it. "Sounds perfect."

There's an awkward moment when we re-enter the bar and Severide looks up at us knowingly, but the guy's pretty solid and he nods at me with a small smile. I return the gesture, park myself on a stool at the bar and thank whatever gods have aligned in my favour tonight. I get a generous mug of the black stuff set in front of me and watch as Erin practically skips to the booth across from us to clear away the empty glasses. Each time she catches my eye, there's a rewarding bite of the lip here or a blush there. Give me this over the Cubs any day.

X

We settle into my car and right when I start the engine, I notice her shift uncomfortably. "You okay?"

"I was just thinking." I'm about the have the rug pulled from under me. Because nobody deserves for something to go as well as tonight has - especially not me. And yet, "What if you took me to your place?"

I turn to look at her properly. To figure out what she means. "I want to take you to where you want to go."

"And what if I want to sleep in your bed tonight?"

Is she kidding? "Then I'm completely down with that."

There's this look she gives me: a kind of knowing grin which is accompanied by an eye slide to the zipper of my pants. I think I catch a raise of an eyebrow too. "Really, you're down?"

My reply comes out an a chuckle. "Wrong choice of words. But seriously, I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"Your place."

The drive back to my building is in stark contrast to that of last night. I notice everything: The patterns on cold glass that the ice is forming; the bright lights of the street lamps that seem to fade to a gentler hue as we drive further towards the edge of the city; the way the midnight sky isn't black, but an inky blue, peppered with stars and wrapping around the skyline. I see Erin's face, bathed in red light at each intersection we stop at, before I hit the gas and the red gives way to slivers of silver from the moon. I see her fingers twitching - and not because she needs a fix of anything, but because they're inching closer to the central console to be nearer mine. In the end, I cover her hand with my own and she smiles, arches her soft skin into my palm and sighs happily.

"Can I shower?" she asks after I let us into my apartment and she's kicked her shoes off - then stood them up because she knows I like them tidy. "I feel kinda gross and sticky from the spilled alcohol."

"Of course."

There's a short moment after I've answered her in which she doesn't step away, and we both just watch each other until I think I figure out what she's waiting for. I dip to kiss her - without shoes on she's a good two feet shorter than I am - and the resulting smile I'm rewarded with confirms my thoughts. I watch her walk towards my bathroom and forget my own name.

X

"It's a lot to live up to," she whispers into the dark. We're lying in my bed, hidden by navy sheets, and her words vibrate against my chest as I stroke patterns into her hair.

"What is?"

"Your expectation of me." I pause and Erin lifts her head to look at me in the dim light of the moon. "You want me to be so good."

I do want her to be good. But not for me. For her. She lays her head back down on my chest and strokes her fingers over my skin. "I just don't want to disappoint you."

I press my lips against her forehead and wrap my left leg around both of hers. She fits me so well. "You don't disappoint me Erin."

"I did last night."

"No," I shake my head and the movement disrupts her. "I disappointed myself when I took advantage of you. Then I didn't deal with it properly. You had every right to-"

"-Jay," she interrupts me with a finger against my lips. I can taste her skin and it's heaven. "You have never, ever taken advantage of me."

"The other night," I huff out against her finger. She still doesn't move it. "When we had...when I…"

"Made love to me?" Usually, those words would make me cringe. I've never said them but I guess if there was a way of describing what we did, that would be it. "I've had sex before. That wasn't it. I've never had that before."

"I want to love you right."

"Show me again," Erin asks, grazing her ankle a little higher above the leg that's resting on the mattress. "What it's like." She finally removes her finger and my lips start to feel cold. Shifting so she can look at me properly, I watch as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears before she replaces that finger with her lips. "Please?"

She never needs to ask me again. I'm going to show her I love her until the day I'm no longer on this earth. And even then, if it's possible, after that.

I crane my neck to reach her lips properly, sealing our mouths together gently, but with enough pressure that after a few seconds, I feel her turn so that her back is fully sinking into the mattress and I can shift on top of her. She's wearing the t-shirt that matches my pajama pants - when we climbed into bed earlier, it wasn't with the sole intention of doing this - and it doesn't take much for me to inch it up over her hips, stomach, with a pause at her breasts because I can't not, and then finally over her head so it settles somewhere on the floor and the only thing that's separating us is her panties and my bottoms.

With unhurried fingers, I trail from her collarbone to between her breasts, following with my lips and nose so I can smell what I'm tasting, before heading along the underside of each raise in her chest, laving the skin with my tongue because I love the way she sucks in her breath in anticipation. When I reach her stomach, I dip my tongue inside of her belly button and her hips lift us a few inches so that I can hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She's waiting for me to head south - I can tell from the way her eyes are shut and her bottom lip is clamped between her teeth - so I change direction, my lips sucking hers until I free it from its pearly white prison. A soft "oh," escapes her mouth when I kiss my way under her chin and along her throat, sucking gently at the spot just underneath her ear, but careful not to leave a mark. I will not brand her.

At some point during my ministrations, Erin's hands weave into my hair to trace relaxing patterns just behind my ears. My entire head and neck area feels like it's not attached to my shoulders, tingles flowing down my spine so that my arms grow weak and I have to force myself to dip my head, just so I don't collapse. I dip as far as her breasts - I just can't leave them alone - resting my cheek there for a few seconds while I listen to her heartbeat and catch just enough breath that I can continue to her centre.

I flatten my tongue and draw one slick line upwards to her clit and her eyes fly open. Blindly, she reaches for something - anything - to hold on to so I reach up with my fingers and lace them with hers. I repeat my action again, then once more before her hips are rising so far off the bed that she's almost at a 90-degree angle. With my free hand, I guide her back down to the softness of the foam mattress and smooth the skin of her abdomen with my thumb. The motion seems to calm her down and I wait for her pulse to settle a little before pressing a kiss to her clit and inserting a single finger inside of her. My name is spilling from her lips and I silently thank whatever made me choose to put on pajama pants instead of jeans because I am painfully, painfully hard already without the added issue of unforgiving fabric. It only takes a curl of my finger, inside and up towards me, to send her over the edge and into oblivion, the fingers laced with hers taking a crushing as she rides out her climax.

Her body is covered in a sheen of sweat, I notice as her eyes open lazily to watch me watching her. I move to kiss her, to swallow the breaths she's heaving out while she catches a moment, but she brings our knotted hands up to her lips instead, unwinding her fingers from mine before kissing the feeling back into each digit. She burns my skin in the best way.

When she's satisfied that my fingers are working properly again, Erin lifts her body upwards to reach for the waistband of my pajamas. I help her remove them and grab a condom from my drawer. I'm just about to put it on when she reaches into my hand with a smile true enough to bring about world peace. "Let me."

There's something incredibly intimate about letting the woman you love touch you in the way she does. Once I'm sheathed, I'm moving to position myself between her legs but she surprises me, rising to her knees before I feel my whole world shift as her tongue swirls around the end of my dick. Fuck. If she does that again, I won't last another minute.

I only just manage to choke her name out and I think she knows what I mean because she lets me lay her down so that she's on her stomach. Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, I kiss my way from the top of her spine, down between her shoulderblades until I reach a stop at the top of her ass. Gently, I bend her knee out to the side and cup my left hand underneath her front so I can use my palm for pressure if she needs it. I slide in with ease and it's like coming home.

Everything but the sound of our deep breaths and soft moans fades into nothing as I push in and out of her slowly; slow enough to be able to kiss her shoulder and rest my forehead against her skin without ever breaking contact.

X

I return from the bathroom and after the other night, I'm not surprised to see her wearing my t-shirt again. It's accompanied with nothing else but rumpled sheets and a satisfied smile. I don't even try and fight the grin that's spreading across my face.

"Will you put on some pajama pants?" she asks quietly. I read her eyes for whatever's made her say that, but I don't find my answer. Still, I oblige, pulling out a pair of plain navy bottoms as I reach the drawer. The ones from earlier won't do.

I'm about to ask whether she wants me to stay on the couch when she draws back the covers in an invitation to join her so I keep my mouth shut and lie down. And that's when I get it.

Silently, she presses herself against my chest and hooks her little finger into the waistband of my pajama bottoms as I wrap my arms around her, crawling closer. There isn't a breath between us now.

"I'll know, this time," she says quietly. My stomach lurches.This way, she'll be able to tell if I leave. The realisation breaks me.

I don't know how many kisses I press against her crown until the lump in my throat has dissolved enough for me to choke out a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you."

Her answering response is her finger twisting round the cotton material one more time.