He pulls back, and his eyes search mine. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
I cup his face in my two hands, and I kiss him long and slow and just how he likes it.
He smiles against my lips as he slowly unbuttons my shirt and throws it to the side. He takes off my bra and cups my breasts. His thumbs dust back and forth over my hardened nipples. Our lips are locked, and he undoes my pants and slides them down and takes them off.
He drops to his knees, and I hold my breath as he slides my panties down my legs and takes them off.
He leans in and inhales my sex deeply; his eyes close in pleasure as he kisses me there.
Oh . . . I’ve missed him.
I think back to the first night we had together on our stopover, and it was so different to this. His touch back then was filled with lust; his touch now is filled with adoration and love.
He lifts my leg over his shoulder and licks me in my most private part, the one that nobody but he knows. My hands instinctively go to the back of his head.
This is insane. I haven’t touched him once, and he’s on his knees in front of me, completely dressed . . . having the time of his life.
His tongue finds a rhythm, and my body begins to move by itself, guiding his tongue just where.
I begin to shudder, and I close my eyes to try and block him out. He’s been touching me for all of four minutes, and I’m about to come . . . hold it.
My knees go weak, and I shudder against him, and I feel him smile into me. He laps me up and lays me on the bed. He arranges me how he wants me and spreads my legs open for his gaze. “So . . . fucking perfect,” he whispers to himself.
With urgency, he tears his shirt over his head and slides his jeans down. His cock hangs heavy and hard between his legs.
He’s so beautiful . . . the perfect male specimen.
I smile up at him, and then he goes to his pocket and takes out a condom. Uneasiness fills me. “What are you doing?”
“I want you more than once, and I don’t want to lose the sensitivity.”
I frown as I watch him roll it on . . . that’s weird; in the past he always made me roll them on him as if he was unable to.
He lies beside me on the bed and runs his fingers through my hair as he looks down at me. I can’t read him tonight at all. He seems . . . intense.
“You’re seeming very sentimental tonight, Mr. Miles,” I whisper.
“Maybe I am.”
I reach out and cup his face in my hand. He seems so lost. “Are you all right?”
“Tonight I am.” He leans down and kisses me, and I can feel the emotion behind it. It’s as if he’s channeling all his love through his lips, and I lose all coherent thought.
He lies over me, and our bodies take on an agenda of their own as they writhe together.
Our kiss turns frantic, and he lifts one of my legs and slides in deep. I feel the stretch of his possession; there’s no forgetting his size. It’s unapologetic.
We both moan in pleasure, and he slides out and slowly back in. I’m wet, so wet, and the sound of my arousal hangs in the air.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Emily,” he whispers as he loses control and slams in hard, knocking the air from my lungs.
And then we’re hard at it. The bed is hitting the wall with force; our eyes are locked on each other’s . . . silent . . . and in awe. This is a higher level of frequency.
Our bodies were made to fit together. We were made to fit together.
He screws up his face as if in pain. “I can’t hold it, babe,” he pants.
I smile. I love that he can’t hold it. “Let go,” I breathe against his lips. “We have all night. Give me everything.”
I roll over and feel the dull ache deep inside, and I wince.
Oh man . . . my body is wrecked.
Jameson Miles fucked me all night long. Hard and every which way, and today I’m going to pay for it. I turn toward him. He’s lying on his side, perched on his elbow, watching me. “Hi.” I smile softly, embarrassed by what he must have seen.
“Hi.” He leans in and kisses me before taking me in his arms and holding me tight.
“I’m sore,” I whisper.
“That makes two of us.” He smirks.
I close my eyes against his chest, and we lie in peaceful bliss for another half hour, dozing.
I get up to go to the bathroom and notice the trash can full of condoms . . . hmm, he wore condoms all night. I didn’t notice at the time.
I get back into bed beside him and snuggle back against his chest. “Why did you wear condoms last night?”
I feel his body stiffen beneath me, and I instantly know it was purposeful. He stays silent.
“Jim?” I frown as I sit up.
“Don’t.” He goes to pull me back down onto his chest. “Let’s just have a nice morning together.”
I stare at him. “Why would you wear condoms when I know how much you hate them?”
He exhales heavily as if annoyed and gets out of bed. “I don’t want any accidents.”
“What?”
He exhales heavily as if frustrated.
I sit up. “You think I would trap you by getting pregnant?”
He rolls his eyes.
“What the hell?” I snap as I jump out of bed. “Are you serious?”
“We’re not together, Emily. I would have to be a fucking idiot to not take precautions.”
My face falls. “What was last night?”
His eyes hold mine. “It was goodbye.”
“What?” I can feel the tears of shock welling in my eyes.
“Don’t be upset,” he stammers.
“Don’t be upset?” I cry as I begin to lose control. “You summoned me here to meet you with absolutely no intention of us getting back together?”
He stares at me.
“Is that true?” I yell.
“I’m not the man for you, Emily,” he replies calmly, and I know that this is a practiced speech.
I frown as the walls begin to close in around me. “What?” I whisper.
“You’re in love with Jim.”
I angrily swipe the tears as they roll down my cheeks.
“I’m Jameson. Jim doesn’t exist, Emily. He’s a figment of your imagination, the man you want me to be.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I cry.
“You’re better off without me.”
“If this is about Jake-” I stammer.
“This isn’t about Jake, although I’m fucking furious with you for lying to me.”
“I swear to you that nothing happened,” I cry.
“I know it didn’t.”
“Then why?” I whisper. “I don’t understand. We belong together, Jay.”
“I can’t.” He closes his eyes and pauses for a moment as if steeling himself to push the words past his lips. “I don’t want marriage and babies. I don’t want the same things as you. I’m not cut out to do normal, Emily. I’m married to my job. It will never change. I’ve thought long and hard about this.”
I step back from him as horror dawns. I can hear my own heartbeat in the silence.
“I will always love you,” he whispers.
I stare at him through tears . . . what the fuck is happening right now?
He brushes past me and goes into the bathroom, and the door closes. I stare at a piece of carpet on the floor, shocked to my core. After the beautiful night we had together . . . this is how he treats me?
He reappears fully dressed, and his eyes find mine. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“If you walk out that door now, we are over forever,” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine. “I know.” He steps forward and kisses me softly as he cups my face in his hands. Our faces screw up against each other’s. “This is for the best; another man can make you happier.”
I step back, furious. “Don’t you dare throw that shit at me.”
“Do you want a lift or not?”
“Go to hell,” I spit.
His haunted eyes hold mine. “I’m already there.” He turns and walks out the door. It clicks quietly behind him.
I sob out loud into the silence as I hold my poor heart.