I grip his shoulders tighter in an attempt to take more weight off his arms so that he can position himself to push into me. He uses his left arm to hold me up and his right hand to grip himself, and then he rolls his hips forward and up until I feel the pressure of him inside of me.
He sighs into my neck at the same time I release all the breath in my chest. It comes out like a moan, and that sound encourages Atlas to get that noise out of me again.
My legs are tight around his waist, but he thrusts against me hard enough for them to unlock at the ankles. I start to slip down him, but he hoists me back up and repositions himself until I’m filled with him all over again.
I release another moan, and he rolls into me a second time, and a third time, and it may not be as graceful against a water-soaked shower wall as it is in a bed, but I can’t get enough of the unruly side of him.
He gives me that unruly side of him for several minutes before we’re both too weak and breathless to continue this without the support of a bed. He doesn’t say anything after he pulls out of me and lowers me to my feet. He just turns off the water and then grabs a towel. He starts at my hair, squeezing water out of it with both his hands, and then he slowly works his way down my body with the towel until I’m dry enough. He does a quick swipe of himself with the towel before grabbing my hand and walking me out of the bathroom.
I don’t know how something as simple as him holding my hand on our way to the bedroom can make my heart expand.
Atlas lifts the blanket and motions for me to climb into his bed. It’s so comfortable, it feels like I’m nestling into a cloud. He scoots in next to me, stopping only when he can’t come even a centimeter closer to me. He’s on his side, but he rolls me so that I’m flat on my back, tucked against him.
I like this position. I like the way he’s holding himself up on his elbow, hovering over me. I like the slight grin in his eyes, as if I’m a reward he’s earned.
Atlas lowers himself and we’re no longer easing into these kisses. It’s an immediate deep and hungry kiss that starts with the dive of his tongue and ends with him impressively reaching for a condom and putting it on without interrupting the strength of his kiss. Atlas grips the inside of my thigh and pushes my leg aside to make room for himself.
Then he’s above me, pushing into me, and he moves against me until I find myself in the middle of a beautiful falling apart.
* * *
Atlas is on his back on the bed, and I’m curled into him, my leg draped over his thigh. These are the moments I look forward to sharing with him the most. The quiet minutes we get to steal from the chaos of our lives, where it’s just the two of us, satiated, content. My head is resting on his chest, his fingers are trailing back and forth over my arm.
He kisses the top of my head and says, “How long has it been since we ran into each other on the street?”
“Forty days,” I say. I’ve been counting.
He makes a huh sound, like that surprises him.
“Why? Does it feel longer?”
“No, I just wanted to know if you’ve been counting like I have.”
I laugh and press my lips against his skin, right over his heart.
“How were things at the party today?” he asks me. I know what he’s asking without him having to say it. He wants to know how Ryle treated me.
“The party was good. I spoke to Ryle for maybe five seconds.”
“Was he unkind?”
“No. We just stayed out of each other’s way, mostly.”
Atlas runs his fingers through my hair, pulling them through the strands and letting them fall over my back. He takes another handful and repeats the movement. “That’s progress. Hopefully it’ll just get easier from here.”
“Hopefully.” I do hope things between Ryle and I continue to get easier, but I’m no longer letting his reactions control my happiness. I’m all-in with Atlas, and I want to be present in that part of my life. If that makes Ryle upset or uncomfortable, Ryle is going to have to bear the burden of those feelings. “I might ask Allysa to have a sit-down with me and Ryle this week. I want to discuss what happened, and what to do going forward, but I don’t want to discuss it with him alone.”
“That’s smart.”
Ryle and I may never get to a point where we can be more than merely civil. But I’d be okay with civil. What I’m not okay with are the insults, the threatening texts, the outbursts. He’s got a lot of work to do, and I’m finally willing to hold him to task.
I probably should have been firmer earlier on, but I’ve been trying to make it work in the least dramatic way possible. But I’m done bending my own life for Ryle’s sake.