I want you back..✔✔✔✔(Re-edited)

11.

Livia's POV

I was sitting on the couch in the living room, my diary resting on my lap as I poured my thoughts and memories onto the pages, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The room was quiet except for the soft scratch of my pen against paper, until a warm tingling spread across my stomach. Turning my head, I saw Aaron standing behind me, his arms slipping around my waist in a gentle embrace. For a moment, I allowed myself to sink into his presence, his warmth grounding me in a way words never could. I turned back to my diary, but he wasn't ready to let the moment end. "I really missed this," he whispered softly, his breath tickling my ear. I hummed in response. "What, mmm?" he teased, gently tilting my face toward him. His pout was irresistible, and I couldn't resist, I pressed a quick, tender kiss to his lips.

That's when the fierce, passionate side of him surged forward. Before I could react, he swept me up in one swift motion, lifting me onto his shoulder. "Ahhh! What are you doing?" I cried, half laughing and half protesting, but his playful slap to my backside only made me flush hotter. "Oww!" I said, cheeks burning red as he carried me over to the bed and let me down with a bounce that was more loving than rough. He began to close the distance between us, and I didn't pull away; I missed this too much. His lips found a soft spot on my neck, teasing and licking before he bit gently. A soft moan escaped me, and I felt his smirk against my skin. I loved this, every touch, every breath, every stolen moment. I smiled, feeling my heart fill with something I hadn't dared to hope for in a long time.

Without hesitation, he peeled off my top until I was left only in my panties. His hands trailed over my bare skin, sending shivers racing down my spine. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer, craving every inch of him. Our lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss, breath mingling, hearts pounding in sync. The air between us thickened, charged with an urgency neither of us could deny. His hands slid under my panties, fingers tracing delicate patterns on my skin, igniting a fire that burned hotter than anything I'd ever known.

I took the lead then, pressing my hands against his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. The fabric slipped from his broad shoulders. His eyes darkened with desire as he surrendered to the storm raging between us. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was filled with a raw desperation, years of pain, longing, and loneliness pouring out in the way we moved together.

He lowered me onto the bed gently, but there was nothing gentle about the way our bodies entwined. His lips found every sensitive spot, along my collarbone, down my neck, over the swell of my breasts. I arched into him, my hands clutching at his back, needing more, wanting him to know how much I'd missed this connection. 

We weren't exhausted afterward, not in the way you expect after something so intense. Instead, it was as if we'd been charged, like a fire rekindled, burning brighter and hotter than before. The world outside had melted away, leaving just the two of us suspended in this perfect, electric moment.

He played with my nipples gently, his fingers circling and teasing, sending jolts of pleasure that made me gasp softly. My hands were tangled in the thick muscles of his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his skin warmed beneath my fingertips. He was taking it slow, not sluggish or hesitant, but deliberate, savoring every inch of me as though rediscovering a map he once knew by heart but was eager to explore anew.

There was no hurry, yet every touch felt urgent. His lips traced a path from my neck down to my chest, while his hands explored, committing every curve and shape of my body to memory. Then, with slow, deliberate care, he positioned himself and entered me, the first deep, steady thrust drawing a shared breath between us. He moved with a rhythm that was both tender and insistent, sometimes slow and gentle, other times quick and unyielding, each motion drawing us closer to a raw, unguarded connection. Our bodies spoke in a language older than words, filled with desperate longing, love, and the bittersweet pain of time lost.

His hands tightened on my hips as he pushed deeper, the pace slowly picking up. Each movement was strong and sure, driving into me with a steady rhythm that was firm but still careful. I felt every inch of him, the way his body moved in sync with mine, the heat building between us. My chest rose and fell quickly as my breath hitched with every thrust. His lips found mine again, pressing hard against them, urgent and demanding, making it hard to think about anything else except the feeling of his mouth and the way his body filled me completely.

He muttered my name, his voice low and rough, vibrating against my skin. It sent a shiver straight through me. I held onto him tighter, my hands gripping the muscles of his back, needing the contact, needing to feel him close. His movements got stronger, deeper, and faster but he never lost that steady control. 

I could feel the pounding of his heart against mine, the heat of his breath on my skin, and I gave myself over completely. It wasn't just physical, it was every emotion we'd locked away: love, pain, hope, fear, and the promise of never letting go again.