“Don’t ever leave without saying goodbye.” His words are like a strike, and my chest heaves. He shifts his pants down his hips, releasing his thick length. The intensity of his blue eyes washes over me, and his hands come to my hips to guide me to straddle him. “It’s going to be quick, sweetheart, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
With his tip positioned at my entrance, I wait only a blink before lowering myself over him, sheathing him inside me. We both groan, and I feel complete for the first time in five days.
“I’m sorry I left without seeing you one more time,” I tell him, rocking over him, sighing in pleasure at the fullness within me.
“You can’t . . . you can’t do that to me.” His voice cracks again, and he tugs me to him, his face against my breasts, pausing our movement. My arms wrap around his head, and I hold him tightly to my chest as I will him to hear the words my heart speaks to him.
Ask me to stay, it thumps.
He leans away, latches his mouth onto my breast once again then pulls back with a sharp tug. The snap makes me yelp, and it’s like someone has fired a starting gun. We’re off—racing, rocking, and thrusting. Hips crash as he slams into me, and I sink down on top of him. We slip and slide, both of us breathing heavily, until he begs, “Give it to me, darlin’.”
His hand slips between us, and his thumb finds just the spot I need to release a week’s worth of tension and a lifetime worth of dreams. I come so hard I see stars dance before my eyes, and I make a wish on every one of them.
Please don’t let this end.
Jess’s motions still while he jolts inside me. All feels so right with the world.
For now.
+ + +
The moment for talking finally arrives after another round of mind-blowing sex in my bed. We lie next to one another, breathing heavily until Jess lifts an arm and tucks it behind his head. His focus doesn’t leave my ceiling.
“I could never ask you to stay. To give all this up. Your home. Your job. Your dream.” He twists his head to face me, but he makes no move to turn his body or draw mine close to him.
“And I can’t pack up my kid and start over again.” His gaze is piercing, and I can see in his eyes he’s begging me to understand.
“I’d never ask you to do that.”
“Long distance seems so . . . impossible,” he admits. “I can’t put Katie through that kind of relationship. She needs someone consistent and present.”
My lips twist into a scowl, and my heart aches. I know what he’s saying. It’s true, even if I don’t like it. The odds seem against us.
“I owe Tom. I can’t walk away from him or the business. We have too much invested in it, and that’s not including the sentimental value connected to our dad.”
I want to reach for him, sensing both his sadness at the loss of his father and the depth of his commitment to help his brother take over the family business. Then I remember he told me he’s where he’s meant to be.
“I can’t ask you to leave the paper. The thing you’ve waited years for. The column of your dreams. I could beg you to stay with me, but you’d resent me. Deb did.”
It’s a checklist of things against us.
“I’m not Deb.” What did she give up in order to live with her successful husband and their beautiful daughter? And yes—yes, he could beg me to stay. Begging is good, I think to myself, but I don’t say that. “How could Deb have possibly resented you?” It’s an awkward question to ask in our current conversation, but I want to know.
He shifts, turning his body to face mine. “She resented that I worked so much while she was home. Doing what, I have no idea. She wasn’t a homemaker in the traditional sense. Didn’t want a job but didn’t want our child either. She was a terrible wife and a horrible mother.” He sighs and swipes at his face. “And I didn’t beg her to come back to me. I wanted the divorce she asked for, but I also wanted answers from her. She refused to speak to me. We signed the papers separately and parted ways.” He exhales. “And you’re right, you’re not her. That’s why I can’t believe you left without talking to me.”
I sigh in frustration, twisting on the bed to face the ceiling. He’s quiet until I turn my gaze back to him.
“I don’t have anything to offer you,” he whispers.
“You have so much more to offer than you realize. Family. Katie.” I swallow. “Grace is all the way down in Georgia where she has a husband and five children. Well, almost five. And I have only me. Here.” Alone.
“You kept saying you were going to leave,” he says quietly.
“You didn’t tell me you wanted me to stay.”
We stare at one another. It’s the most honest we’ve been with each other, and it scares me to death.
“I can’t ask you to come back with me, but I also can’t seem to give you up.”
Why? I want to plead. Why can’t he ask me? But I’ve just heard all his reasons, and if he doesn’t want to ask, I’m not going to beg.
“Emily.” He reaches for the tear rolling down my cheek, and I close my eyes.
I shake my head. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Jess moves closer to me and pulls me into his chest. I bury my face in my hands against him as his fingers stroke my back. The silent tears fall while I fight the sob so desperate to escape.
“We won’t say goodbye,” he whispers, but we both know it’s already happened. Despite his presence here, we’ve already let each other go.
+ + +
Jess and I wake early. His arms are wrapped securely over my back as I inhale his scent. He smells of pine, fresh air, and me.
“How did you get here?” I whisper into his warm skin. The real question I want to ask is if he came for me, but based on what we’ve already discussed, he isn’t here to ask me to follow him.
“I had a meeting in Grand Rapids about the radio. I figured I was already halfway here, so I called Tricia to watch Katie overnight for me. I needed to see you.” He exhales and tugs me tighter to him, but I move my head to look up at his face. His scruff is a little deeper. His hair spills back.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, feeling the all-too-familiar lump in my throat.
“I’m going to go home, and you’re going to stay here, and I’m going to think of you every day.” He hugs me tighter, a tease in his tone, but I don’t find any peace in this suggestion. I nod against him. Home. Here. Those two words war with each other, and I wish it didn’t feel so impossible.
“I just didn’t want us to part without an understanding. Without you understanding how I feel.”
“And how do you feel?” I pull back from him. I want to see his eyes when he answers.
“Well, my fairy-tale woman . . .” He brushes back my hair as he begins. “In a garden of a thousand roses, I’d pick you.” He looks from my forehead to my chin and then to each eye, like compass points on a map. “I’d recognize you as the most precious one.”
The Beast and his rose. It’s the metaphor I used. I could cry, but I don’t. I tip my face up to kiss him. Tenderness turns to tantalizing within seconds, and Jess has me on my back in no time. Our mouths hardly part as his body cascades over mine, parts my thighs, and settles where he fits me best. He slips into me and pauses our kisses to lean back and look down at me. He brushes my hair over my ear, and his mouth falls open, then shuts. There aren’t any more words to speak. Our bodies talk instead.