Craving Him

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Having Emmy back in my bed was a thing of wonder. I blinked open sleepy eyes, just needing to see if it was really her next to me. Last night felt like a dream, but there she was, laying so peacefully, her cheek resting on my pillow, dark eyelashes fluttering and a mass of brown waves tangled around her face. My heart surged. She was here.

I trailed my hand lightly over her hip and backside as she lay asleep on her stomach. I loved her body . . . it was so soft, so smooth . . . it just invited my touch. Last night she’d said we’d need to go slow. But I was thankful she’d still spent the night with me. I’d never felt true peace and acceptance like I had when I was near Emmy. She accepted me for me—with her, I wasn’t the man on billboards or in magazines. I was just me. Despite my shortcomings, despite all my fuck-ups, she was here by my side. After nearly losing her, I’d earned a second chance and I would do everything in my power to make things right again.

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