“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was a coward. I couldn’t stick around and say goodbye. I knew if I did, I wouldn’t have left.”
I lift my head to look up at him. “Would staying be so bad?”
“Yes. No . . . I don’t know.” He shakes his head, frustration coloring his features. “I have to follow this path. I just have to.”
I understand he has to follow his dreams and see what God has in store for him. Sol’s path in life had already been chosen for him. I mean, who can compete with The Guy up there? Sol might have been mine in summer—a gift I desperately needed—but not mine forever.
I lift my hand and smooth the lines marring his forehead. “It’s okay. I get it. I understand now.”
He looks at me, eyes swimming in tears. “You do?”
I nod, pulling him down and pressing his forehead against mine. My chest feels hollow as though my heart has been ripped from it, leaving a gaping hole. This is what closure feels like, I guess.
I fall back on the balls of my feet and step away from him. “What time is it? I promised Mom I’d be home by midnight.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “It’s almost ten. There’s no way you’re driving back—”
“Sol.”
He looks at me.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s only a two-hour drive.”
He scowls, his jaw set in a stubborn line.
“It’s not my first rodeo.” I chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.
He stalks past me, brushing my shoulder with his arm, and I fucking shiver.
Oh, God.
He snatches his keys from the basket on the table and heads for the front door, grabbing the doorknob. He looks over his shoulder at me. “You coming?”
“Where are you going?”
“Portland.”
“Please don’t do this,” I beg. “You’ll miss your curfew, and someone will notice you’re gone—”
“You’re not driving in the middle of the night alone.” His jaw clenches, his chin jutting out stubbornly. He stares down at his black shoes. I can’t see what’s going on in his eyes, but the second he lifts his head, I know I won’t be able to deny him this. “Please, let me do this. If anything happens to you, God, I don’t know w—”
“Okay,” I say quickly, hoping to banish the look on his face. “Thank you.”
His lips tip at the corners in a relieved smile. He opens the door and moves aside to let me pass. But before I can step out the door, Sol’s strong fingers grip my bicep and yank me back. Then his nose is in my hair, inhaling deeply. He groans, whispering my name twice, then wraps his arm across my chest and hugs me from behind.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, closing my eyes as his nose brushes my neck, warm breath sending goosebumps over my skin.
His arm tightens, his body shudders. Pistons engage inside my body, ready to fire.
“Sol?”
“Just let me hold you for a little while.” After a beat, he adds in a hoarse whisper, “Turn around.”
I try, but he’s holding me so tight I can’t move. “Then let go of me.”
“I can’t.”
I laugh. All of a sudden, our bodies are moving back, and the door’s being kicked shut. He spins me around and cups my cheeks with one hand, while securing my wrists above my head with the other.
“What’s—”
“Shh. No talking. No questions.”
“Are you su—”
“Shut up, Gracie.
“But—”
He slams his mouth savagely over mine, silencing me with a searing kiss. It’s hungry and needy and hot, and my back arches from the door, and my legs attempt to climb his large frame. He kisses me until my reservations melt away. Until all I see and feel and want is him.
A groan rumbles in his throat. His body presses mine into the door. And suddenly, as if he can’t get enough, his hands slide down to cup my ass, and he hoists me up. Then he’s spinning us around and heading past the living room and down a dimly lit hallway.
I toss her on the large bed, then stand back and stare at her small frame, still tight like I remember. I frown as my gaze travels from the darkish circles around her eyes, to her sunken cheeks, and down to her hips barely hugging her jeans. Guilt and regret twist painfully in my stomach.
“You’ve lost weight,” I mutter.
She shrugs as if it’s nothing, but to me, it’s something. It’s everything I miss about her. I loved her full body. I loved touching every part of it.
“What happened?”
“I’ve been trying out this new diet, and it’s am—”
“Cut it out, Grace.” I glare down at her. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes move to focus on the space above my shoulder, and she’s biting down her bottom lip. My heart starts racing inside my chest.
Is she sick? My uncle would have told me if she was, right?
Right?
No.
My uncle wouldn’t have told me anything. Not when I clearly told him how I felt about Grace and that I’d appreciate if he didn’t mention her in our conversations.
Grace is my undoing. Hearing her name makes me feel like I’m coming down with a fever only her touch can cure.
I could easily have chosen her over God. But I need to walk down this path and find out what God has in store for me. He fills this need in me that nothing else can. It’s like a craving for more . . . I can’t even explain it. All I know is that when I’m on my knees praying to Him, I feel the kind of peace I’ve never felt before, especially after spending the past three weeks with guys who have the same goals as me.
Grace deserves better, someone who’ll dedicate their entire being to worshiping her like the queen she is. Not someone like me, someone whose heart is at war.
No. I don’t want to destroy her life like that.
Yet here I am, three seconds away from doing something I shouldn’t be doing.
“I don’t . . . I can’t eat or sleep, Sol,” she admits. “I-I miss you so freaking much,” she whispers, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
My hands clench with the need to scoop her up in my arms and comfort her. I inhale deeply to counter the pain in my chest and close my eyes as I remember how much of a wreck I was the first two weeks after arriving in Boston. I’d finally made peace with the decision I made, although the weight of missing her had settled heavily on my shoulders.
And now, now she’s lying on my bed.
Eyes full of naked need and . . . love.
Body primed and ready for me.
I want to touch her so badly. I want to be inside her.
Before my brain can process my actions, I’m crawling up the bed and straddling her thighs.
I glance down at her T-shirt and smirk as I read the words, Billy Ocean was my first love. “Sorry, Billy,” I murmur, bunching the ratty T-shirt in my hands and ripping it clear down the middle. “I was her first.”
She squeals, then snorts. “You’ve ruined it. Mom’s going to kill me.”
“Just tell her the eighties called, and they wanted Billy back,” I grumble.
She laughs, and the sound shoots straight to my dick.