Skin to Soul

The night was quiet, unusually so. Anthony had gone down early without fuss, and the house seemed to exhale around them—soft and still.

Andrea lay beside Doc, her head resting on his bare chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers slowly traced up and down her spine, every motion thoughtful, like he was memorizing her all over again.

Neither of them had spoken for a while. They didn’t need to. The silence was comfortable, sacred.

“I ever tell you what I thought the first time I saw you holding Anthony?” Doc asked softly.

Andrea turned her face toward him, her voice a whisper. “What?”

“That you looked like you'd known him forever. Like he’d been waiting for you in another life, and finally found his way back.”

Andrea blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Not tonight. Not from him.

“I was terrified,” she admitted. “He felt like the only thing in the world that was mine, but I didn’t feel like I deserved him. Not with everything I’d done… or survived.”

Doc shifted, brushing her hair back from her face. “You deserve him. You deserve more. And I want to be the one to give it to you.”

Her breath caught. He was always like this—offering more than she knew what to do with.

“I don’t know how to let go completely,” she said. “Sometimes when we’re... like this, I get close. But then I get scared. Like if I give you everything, there’ll be nothing left for me.”

Doc cupped her jaw gently, his thumb grazing her cheekbone.

“Then take your time. I’ll be here. I don’t need everything all at once. I just need you.”

Andrea leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his.

“Touch me like you want to stay,” she said. “Not just in my bed. But in my life.”

Doc responded not with words, but with the kind of kiss that anchored her.

He moved over her with a reverence that made her eyes sting with emotion. His body pressed into hers slowly, purposefully. There was no rush. Just connection. Every hard thrust was a promise. Every breath shared between them was a thread in the tapestry they were weaving together.

Andrea wrapped her legs around him and whispered against his lips, “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” he murmured. “Not even if you try to run again.”

Their rhythm deepened, a slow build that felt more spiritual than physical. She clung to him, nails digging into his back—not in pain, but in raw need. Not just for release, but for grounding. For something real.

When they came together, it wasn’t with fireworks. It was with a softness that shook them both. Tears slipped down Andrea’s cheeks as she gasped into his shoulder, overwhelmed not by pleasure—but by how safe she felt.

They lay tangled afterward, bodies sweaty and hearts wide open.

“You scare me,” she whispered.

“Why?” Doc asked, brushing her hair back again.

“Because loving you like this makes me believe I could finally stop running.”

Doc kissed her forehead and held her tighter. “Then stay. Let’s make this the place where we both stop running.”