To Breathe Again

Chapter 44 - The Weight of Memories

Sammy's POV

I've lost her. My light, my angel, my love. Michelle is everything—so much so that I could lose myself in her. There's nothing in this world that compares to her soul, her essence. I'm completely in love with her, wrapped up in every moment we've shared.

We'd play Xbox together, and I loved watching her competitive spirit come alive. She's mostly good-natured, but God help you if you rub in a victory—then all hell breaks loose. Grant learned that the hard way. He made the mistake of bragging one night about catching the biggest fish, and she pinched the living hell out of his side, leaving him with a nasty bruise. But that's Michelle. Fierce and fiery, especially when someone pushes her buttons.

I think about how she'd focus on the screen, her eyes narrowing, lips slightly parted in concentration. And that adorable squeal she'd make when her character was about to die—it was pure joy just watching her. But then there were the quiet moments. The times when we'd sit together on the back porch, reading, with the world around us falling into a kind of peaceful silence. Sometimes, she'd snuggle up between my legs, or I'd rest my head on her stomach, and there was this serenity that washed over me. It was more than relaxing—it was peaceful, in the truest sense.

She loved to sit on the porch swing, never able to let it stay still. Even when she was half-asleep, she'd rock gently, her beautiful hair catching in the wind. It was like something out of a romance novel, the way her hair would sway, and then there was her scent—God, she always smelled amazing. After a shower, her skin would carry the soft scent of lavender. I learned she had a thing for lavender sugar scrub, said it kept her "old skin" feeling baby soft. I used to laugh at that because, in her mid-40s, she looked like she was still in her 30s. But I'd buy out the store to keep her happy.

She'd color her hair now and then, but honestly, I loved the gray streaks near her temples. They framed her face in this perfectly elegant way. Her spirit, though, stayed young. Playful. But damn, her sex drive—it's something else. I can barely keep up with her. Thank God there's three of us.

FLASHBACK

It was a fucking long day. Between girls annoying the fuck out of me interrupting my research time, to my dean putting new pressure on me to publish my next piece, I needed a break. At the moment Angel and I are reading alone on the porch. She's laying between my legs with her head resting back on my chest, while reading a romance. I can feel her hand running up and down my thigh and it seems to be getting higher and higher. If she doesn't fucking stop, she wont be reading for much longer.

I've been in the middle of an exceptionally erotic book that's already making my dick hard. Every time the character pleasures his woman making her scream in ecstasy, all I can picture is Angel's face. I can't take it anymore so I put my phone down and twist her in my arms. She doesn't fight me at all, allowing me to move her body so that she's facing me, straddling my legs. I press my lips to hers and feel her body melt into mine. I run my hands over her body and she moans. "Always so eager for me Angel. You never say no. Such a good girl." I say to her.

She looks down shyly and then a sad little voice comes out. "I-I, well, I wasn't always like this." She says.

"What are you talking about Baby?" I ask quietly, still stroking her face.

I lift her chin and look into her eyes. She takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure if it's something about being in my 40s, since I've heard that some women really get a libido boost in their 40s, or if it's because I finally feel pretty again but I've really struggled with sex in the past." she said, trying to look anywhere but into my eyes.

"Talk to me Baby. I'm here. You can tell me anything and I can promise you and I will only love you more."

She smiled and nodded. "Ok, but please just let me get through it before asking anything or making any comments, ok?"