Our movements become more urgent. Wild.
While he rolls a condom on, I chuck my shoes to the other side of the wall with a thud, then slide out of my leggings. I kiss him again, then slowly sink onto him, taking him inch by inch.
Memorizing every single moment of how he feels as he stretches and fills me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, sending even more heat to my core.
My mouth hangs open, loving the sound of the word fuck leaving his lips. It’s low. A whisper. Like a secret between us.
He gently nibbles on my bottom lip, his hands on my ass, pulling me down farther. He shifts beneath me, fitting himself deeply inside me.
I move my hips up and down, and his grip on my ass helps me set the rhythm.
A light sheen of sweat forms on his forehead.
My hair falls into my face, but he quickly pushes it over my shoulder as I continue grinding my hips.
The longer I move on top of him, the faster our breaths become. It’s not long before my vision blurs.
My body responds to him. Knows him. Lights on fire for him.
I fight my urge to moan, not that it would matter, anyway. His lips are now fused to mine, taking each breath with every thrust. He picks up the pace, slamming my body onto his, creating the friction I need to burst.
I grow limp in his arms as pleasure wracks my body, and he follows suit with one last thrust. He rests his head on my chest, his breaths hot and heavy on my skin.
Being with Dax like this is sensual. Romantic. Sexy.
He’s ruined me but put me back together again too.
I run my hands through his hair, holding him there, enjoying having him this way. I don’t know how it happened.
I don’t know where we go from here.
But this connection between Dax and me is a special kind of magic I don’t want to know the secret behind. I relish the awe-inspiring way his eyes dance when he looks up at me. His smile tugs at the corners of his lips before he places a soft kiss on my chest, over my heart.
And I melt.
Twenty-Three
Clara
“Jacob, stay close.” My mom walks quickly with a salad bowl in her hands, while I trail behind her with breadsticks. “And don’t go playing around the little bridge. We found a snake the other day.”
“Really?” His eyes light up. “Awesome. Can I see?”
“No, not awesome.” My eyes widen in horror. “You may not see.”
“Party pooper.” He pouts, then takes off like a snake is actually chasing him.
“So much energy, that one, and I can’t even make it from the kitchen to this table without wheezing,” my mom says to me.
“That’s because you don’t take care of yourself. When was the last time you took a break? A bubble bath? Maybe even read a book?”
She waves me off. “I have no time for any of that.”
“You do. You just spend too much of your free time with Jacob and me.”
“Just you wait.” She peers at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Wait until Jacob moves across the country, gets married, has kids, and stays there for ten years. If he moves back home, then you tell me if you’d spend every second you could with them to make up for lost time.”
My heart cracks as her frown settles into place. She watches her only grandson hunched over, probably searching for bugs or purposely trying to get a tick to bite him. He’d just love to make me throw up again. Why are boys so strange?
“Well, that’s not going to happen.” I hold my mom’s shoulders from behind and rest my chin on one. “I’m going to move with Jacob wherever he goes.”
She pats my hand, laughing along with me, and we finish setting the table.
“You haven’t told me. Is Dax coming over?”
I glance away from my mom, my cheeks immediately reddening at the mere mention of his name. Thoughts of our day together consume me. It’s been a few days, but I can still feel him.
Hands everywhere.
Excited moans.
Absolute bliss.
I shrug, trying to throw my mom off my blushing cheeks. “He was called in to work.”
She gives me a knowing smile, rounding the table to loop her arm through mine. “Let’s walk.”
“Is this the same type of walk we took when I was a freshman in high school, and you wanted to ask me if I was ready for a boyfriend? Because Dad took care of it better than you did. He just scared them all away, instead.” I plant my feet to keep her from dragging me like I did when I didn’t want to go to pre-school. I’d even hold on to the doorknob like my tiny hands and childish strength could really stop her and my dad from picking me up.
She tugs on my arm now. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Relaxing, I follow her a few steps, and she winks. “But yes, it is that kind of walk.”
Groaning, I slap my forehead with my palm, feeling like I’m a teenager again.
“Talk to me.”
I bite my lip. How much do I want to share with my mom? “Let’s just say, my friendship with Dax will never be the same.”
“Meaning?”
“We crossed too many lines.”
“I see.” She nods.
We take in the hillside, where grapevines stretch across the field in perfect rows. Olive trees are also planted around the vineyard. Andrew said they were a must—they remind him of his village in Greece, where olive trees are an important part of their culture as symbols of peace and honor. Here, they add to the charm of the winery. With rose hedges planted at the end of each row of grapevines, this place is heavenly. Like a painting. Greens, yellows, and subtle sprinkles of color from the roses—it’s stunning.
“And why is this a problem, exactly?” she asks.
My shoulders slump. This is a bad idea, but I start from the beginning, nonetheless. From what’s really bothering me. “With Mitch, I had a comfortable love. We may not have had a perfect marriage all the time, but we laughed and cuddled and shared a life. With Dax… it’s different. It’s fast-paced and unpredictable, especially with his job. He’s more intense. Not to mention, he’s a lot cleaner and more organized than I’m used to.”
We both chuckle before my smile falls off like cold water runs down a glass.
“Mitch and I were young when we got married, you know? And we had Jacob right away. I’ve always been a wife and a mom,” I say, gulping, scared to say this out loud. “But Dax makes me feel different.”
“And when you say you feel different, you mean…” My mom tilts her head to the side.
“Like a woman,” I say without hesitation, but I instantly cringe. My cheeks redden as I peer at my mom in my periphery.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on, Clara. You’ve been married and had a child. I think it’s okay to say the word sex around me. He makes you feel sexy.”
I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed for many reasons.
“Honey.” She pulls my hands down, her expression serious. “Why does it have to be a comparison at all? Why are you pitting Mitch and Dax against each other?”
“I don’t know.” I pull my lip between my teeth. “I feel guilty. I don’t want my marriage to feel like a sham.”
Squeezing my upper arms, she says, “It was not a sham at all, just like my marriage to your father wasn’t. We loved each other very much. At one point, anyway. And I don’t regret it or him, because he gave me you.”