“I guess I do. But if we do ever go our separate ways, I don’t want you doing it again.”
“If we go our separate ways, I’ll be leaving Green Valley, so you don’t need to worry about that.” His words meant to reassure me had the opposite effect.
Grabbing his other hand, I moved closer. “If I’d called things off tonight, would you have left the Valley?”
“I’m already packed.”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“I’m always packed. But, yes. I would’ve left tonight.”
“You thought I was meeting you to end it?”
“I did.”
A shock passed through me, followed swiftly by a horrible feeling of loss. “And you would’ve been okay with that?”
“No. But I’d accept it. I’m not here to drag you down to my level, Diane. I’m not here to ask that you accept my reality and excuse the choices it leads me to make. I know I can’t bring that shit into your world, into this thing between us.”
“Honey—”
“I don’t expect we can keep this going forever, but you’ve won me over. Until you get bored of me—”
“Or you get fed up with me.” I lifted my arms and twined them around his chest, loving how—with his jacket on my back and his big body at my front—he surrounded me.
“For however long this lasts . . .” Jason bent to me, slid his nose slowly against mine, teased my lips with his “I want to belong to you.”
We made a blanket picnic in the family room when we got back. But first, we laughed at how I’d left the rental car’s trunk open and half of the groceries exposed to the elements. Luckily, no chipmunk or black bear had stopped by to ravage our unattended food.
I loved that even though I’d been silly and absentminded, instead of chiding me, Jason had laughed like it was all a good joke. I loved how freely he laughed. And I loved how I never felt like he was laughing at me.
We watched his favorite, Casablanca, while sitting next to each other on the floor, the cheese and crackers and pâté spread out between us. Jason cleared away the food at the part where the lovers see each other for the first time. I’d planned on helping, but I couldn’t move. The film held me transfixed. I’d seen the movie before, but the chemistry between Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman’s characters struck me differently this time, made me breathless. It also made me sad because I remember how the film ended.
Once all the food and containers were out of the way, Jason returned with a new bottle of wine—I hadn’t realized we’d polished off the first—and I accepted the glass he handed over. But then, after taking a moment to consider the two glasses I’d already consumed, I set the wine to the side.
I’d never been a drinker. With my daddy being an alcoholic, I hadn’t minded that Kip was a tea toddler . . . er, teetotaler. A teetotaler. Not toddler . . . but kind of a toddler just the same.
The internal musings of my mind had me pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. Kip had been a toddler. Ignorant. Throwing tantrums if he didn’t get his way. Needing to be fed and babied and coddled. Everything done for him.
I slid my eyes to the side and studied Jason’s face, which was mostly in profile. My gaze raked over the thick salt and pepper beard, the strong line of his jaw, his delectable lips and nose and eyes. He was so handsome. But Kip was handsome too. So was Bethany Winston’s husband, Darrel. Square jaws and thick hair and expressive eyes don’t make a man.
Thoughts and actions make a man, specifically the ability to take action and a willingness to think. And, I supposed, that’s what made a woman too.
I’d peeled off both jackets earlier, which left me in my thin but warm cashmere sweater, a thin and not warm long-sleeved T-shirt, these new jeans, and a pair of cotton socks. Plus, you know, a bra and underwear—burgundy to match my nail color.
I then made a quick assessment of what he wore: dark grey long-sleeved Henley, thick dark jeans, wool socks, and presumably some underwear. My sweater counted as one extra layer. I removed it.
The movement drew Jason’s notice. “Are you hot? Do you want me to close the fireplace vent?”
He always built a fire whenever we arrived and tonight hadn’t been any different.
“No. I’m not hot.” Not yet. “You can leave it open.”
His eyes narrowed, just a millimeter, and his gaze lingered on me, like he was suspicious.
I gave him my best innocent look.
He sighed. “Diane, I don’t believe—”
Using his shoulder to brace myself, I straddled his lap.
Jason’s jaw slid to the side, his teeth scraping, but his hands rested on my thighs and squeezed.
“Hi there,” I said, smiling my flirty smile.
Jason swallowed thickly, his smile grim, his eyes heat and hunger as they tangled with mine, but he said nothing. Bending my head, I slid my nose against his and brushed our lips together, an echo of what he’d done out on the ridge when we’d made up and he told me he wanted to be mine.
“I missed you,” I said, my hands sliding down the front of his hard body. I loved his body. I thought about it, and all the things I knew it could do, so much more often than what would be considered decent. “I—”
He grabbed my hair at the back of my head and forced my mouth down to his before I could say another word. The sounds of the movie faded and we kissed, frantically.
After so many days apart, I didn’t know if I’d expected our typical slow build this time, but nothing about this could be described as slow. I didn’t know when my hands had lifted his shirt, or when he’d unclasped my bra, or how long our mouths had been fused together, but when I turned my head to breathe, his fingers were digging into my hips as though to push me off.
“No—no.” I pressed down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “I need you.”
“You need to get off, right now. Or I will,” he warned, holding me still.
The hard length of him between my legs told me he was serious. He would come soon if I didn’t give him some space. But I didn’t want to give him space, not this time, and I wanted him to come. I wanted to make love to him—or, I guess, have sex with him, if that’s what it was—and I was tired of waiting. The torture between us had been a thrill but denying myself tonight didn’t feel like an option.
Releasing his shirt to move my hands down his chest and stomach, I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and took it off along with my bra. He leaned back, watching me warily.
But then his eyes strayed and he breathed a curse before growling, “What are you doing?”
“Won’t you touch me?” I whispered sweetly, leaning forward to feather a soft kiss to his eyelid, taking his hands from my hips and bringing them to my body.
“Diane—”
“I need you, Jason.” I kissed his other eyelid, releasing his hands since they obeyed my unspoken command and were presently lavishing my breasts with tender care. “I need you inside me.”
Chapter Sixteen
*Diane*
“We'll never be as young as we are tonight.”