Maybe it's Fate

by Weston Parker

  “A walk, it is.”

  We took another moonlit stroll barefoot on the beach and murmured quietly to one another for no good reason other than not wanting to interrupt the peacefulness of the dark night.

  Once we got back to the bungalow, I led her straight to the bedroom. “How do you feel about a bath? There are bubbles, more candles, and more rose petals.”

  “I can definitely get behind that,” she said as I circled her waist with my arms and drew her to me until we were so close we were sharing air. “Thank you for tonight, Jaxon. I’ll never forget it.”

  “It’s not over yet.” I lowered my mouth to hers, claiming it in a soft, slow kiss that rattled loose all kinds of things in my brain.

  Warning bells went off, but I didn’t stop kissing her. Nor did I change up the pace or do anything to dispel the intimacy building between us.

  We might have an agreement to live in the moment tonight, but it was still our last night together. Our last time together. I wanted to experience all I could with her, even if those blaring alarms told me I might just end up regretting it.

  Chapter 23

  LINDSAY

  Everything about tonight felt different. We were both completely relaxed, and yet it still felt like an extended goodbye, and the tension of it was thick in the air.

  I couldn’t count the amount of times I’d nearly gone back on the “living in the moment” rule and asked about our future. In the end, I hadn’t because it was obvious he’d spent a fair amount of time on our last day bringing the evening together, and I wanted to enjoy it for what it was.

  A very big part inside me was screaming to just bring it up and get it over with, but that was the part of me that always needed to know what was going to happen next. With Jaxon looking at me with molten heat in his eyes as he slowly unzipped the dress he’d gotten me in the steam-filled bathroom, I knew enough of what was going to happen next that I silenced that part of me.

  After a kiss that I’d felt all the way to my soul back in the bedroom, he’d taken my hand wordlessly and led me in here. He moved around the room, lighting the candles before dimming the lights as low as they could go. I hadn’t been able to tear my gaze off him.

  Now the bath was drawn, the petals were scattered on top of the bubbles in the claw-footed bath, and it was time to get in. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of my spine from where he had pulled the zipper down torturously slow, then pushed the broad straps of the dress from my arms with equally deliberate movements.

  A pleasured sigh escaped me when the material pooled around my feet on the floor and he dragged his fingers up my sides to unhook my bra behind my back.

  When I was left in nothing but my heels, I turned to face him and gave him the same attentive treatment. He looked so damn handsome in his charcoal suit pants and black button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  Why is it always so damn hot when men do that? It was like lady-part Kryptonite. I wondered if they all attended a class at some point in their lives where they were taught that.

  My thoughts fled when I got to the last button of his shirt and pushed it off his defined shoulders. I’d had a week of seeing him shirtless, but I’d never felt as free to ogle the ink that decorated his skin as I did now.

  All of the work was intricately done, the details precise and beautiful. Over his heart was a black and gray compass with clean lines, and I was pretty sure I knew what that one meant. I glanced up at him to confirm as I tapped a nail softly on it.

  “Always follow your heart?”

  He nodded, his gaze heavy as he watched me take him in like I hadn’t had the guts to do before. On his ribs, there was plain lettering reading “I am the Captain of my Fate and the Master of my Soul,” while the word on his inner bicep was simple, “ALIVE.”

  A gorgeous Celtic cross decorated one of his shoulder blades, while his back and the other shoulder were like a patchwork canvas of stars, flames, and a nautical star symmetrically placed across from the cross.

  “Do they all have meanings?” I asked, my breath catching as I thought about all the hours he must’ve spent under the needle to get it all done, and wondering how many more he’d spent deciding on what to get done.

  Again, he nodded, but this time, he brought his hands up to mine, pulling them away from his body but holding them tight. “Let’s get in before all the bubbles are gone and the water goes cold.”

  “I can spend hours just looking at all of those,” I admitted just before removing my heels and and lifted one leg into the tub while he held my hands to provide balance.

  He smirked, turning me around before I sat down. I heard him lowering his zipper and the slight rustle of clothes as he dropped his pants, then felt him climbing in behind me with his chest to my back.

  “You’ve got two choices at this point. We have hours left, but would you rather spend them looking at me or touching me? I can’t promise I won’t touch you if you choose looking at me, though.”

  My throat nearly closed up at the thought that we really did have only hours left. I was about to try maneuvering myself around to face him so I could do both at the same time when his hands came around my waist.

  He dragged his fingertips over every part of my torso but avoided my breasts like the plague. Chills—the good kind—raced across my skin and left gooseflesh and raised hairs in the wake of his skilled hands.

  Letting my head drop back against his shoulder, I planted my hands on his thick thighs on either side of my legs. I ran my fingers along the corded muscle I found there, feeling him growing even harder against the small of my back.

  I moaned when one of his hands traveled lower, delivering the gentlest of brushes against my core while the other traced the underside of my breast. In response, my own fingers went higher on his legs until I felt the very top of them.

  We built each other up as if we had all the time in the world. As if this really was our honeymoon and this was only the first night. Our soft moans and gasps mingled in the steamy air, the only sounds except for the occasional mumbling of my name or his.

  Once the water was cool but my blood was boiling, we got out of the tub. Jaxon held up a thick bath towel and patted me dry everywhere but at the dripping apex of my thighs. I did the same to him, but I’d admit to copping a feel and maybe giving him a stroke or two as I worked around his raging erection.

  The thing looked downright angry, but I wasn’t afraid of its wrath. Might even welcome it.

  When we finally tumbled into bed though, he didn’t slide into me straightaway. Instead, we spent more time exploring each other with our hands and mouths until he gritted his teeth and let out an almost pained groan.

  “I need you now,” he grunted, tapping my shoulder to get me to release the steel rod his cock had turned into from my mouth. “I can’t take anymore.”

  “Thank fuck. I was there ages ago.” I climbed on top of him.

  He used one hand to cup my cheek as he brought his lips to mine, the other on my hip as he guided me down. I took his length greedily, faster than the rest of the evening had gone, but I didn’t hear any complaints from him. We kissed each other with such passion that it was like we were trying to share our souls with one another.

  I didn’t know about him, but I certainly felt branded when we fell apart holding each other and swallowing each other’s moans without stopping our kisses time and time again. Well, I fell apart many more times than he did, but he always seemed to regain his strength faster than I’d have anticipated and was ready for me.

  It had to be the early hours of the morning before we fell to the mattress in a tangled heap. Our skin was damp even though the air-conditioning was on, and my limbs were trembling so much that I let him handle our landing.

  Jaxon rolled onto his back with his strong arms still holding me. I landed with my head on his chest, listening to the erratic beats of his heart slowly returning to normal.

  His fingers burrowed into my hair, twining around
the long strands before he brushed through them. It was a strangely soothing gesture, and after the intensity of what had just happened between us, I’d never been more tempted to ruin a moment.

  I wanted to talk to him more than anything about whether he thought we might have a future together, but this moment seemed so fragile, so precious, that as tempted as I was to break my silence, I swallowed the words down and pressed a kiss to his bare skin instead.

  “I don’t want to say goodbye tomorrow,” I whispered, settling for telling him the simplest, most important part of the truth.

  In the morning before we went our separate ways, I would tell him the rest. I would let him know how I felt, and then I would go the airport. Hopefully, there would be time to get his take on the matter as well.

  If there wasn’t, at least I’d know I’d said my piece. I wouldn’t have to live with the what-ifs, and I’d be able to plan my immediate future accordingly. None of that had to happen tonight.

  It’d been the most perfect, if bittersweet, last night I could’ve imagined. When Jaxon kissed the top of my head in response to my statement instead of bolting, a strong surge of hope bloomed in my chest.

  I held on to that hope as I drifted off to sleep in the arms of the only man I ever wanted to hold again.

  Chapter 24

  JAXON

  What the fuck was that?

  My heart was thundering even after Lindsay fell asleep. It had nothing to do with the physical effects of sex anymore, and everything to do with having had the most feelings I’d ever had while fucking someone. On the other hand, I knew what fucking was, and that hadn’t been it.

  We hadn’t known each other nearly long enough for it to have been the other thing, so it had to have been something between the two. I’d accepted it, though.

  That wasn’t what was keeping me awake. The reason why I couldn’t sleep was because of the pain I’d heard—even in her whisper—when she’d told me she didn’t want to say goodbye to me tomorrow.

  I didn’t really want to say goodbye to her either. If we had two more weeks together on this island, I doubted I’d even be ready to say goodbye then.

  The alternative, however, didn’t bring me any joyous thoughts either. Moving carefully so I wouldn’t wake her, I went to get my phone and checked the flights back to Houston again.

  Yesterday between all the arrangements I had to make, I’d scrolled through the options and decided to choose one later. If I was being completely honest, I hadn’t wanted to book my flight because that would’ve put a definitive end time to my little adventure in the life of a man married to Lindsay.

  I’d promised her time and time again that I wouldn’t let her get hurt, though. I told her I would protect her and asked her to trust me. Every time I’d asked, she’d put her faith in me and agreed to whatever it was I had asked of her.

  Now it was time to earn that trust. That faith she’d put in me. I owed her that much. Even if it was myself I had to protect her against, or the hurt I would inflict on her if she had to say goodbye.

  As quietly as I could manage, I rifled through my bag and pulled on a pair of pants, made a cup of coffee, and carried my phone and the hot drink outside. I figured there was even less of a chance of me disturbing her when I wasn’t even in the bungalow.

  The beach was deserted at this hour, and it just about ripped a hole into the very fabric of my being when I realized this was the last time I would see it like this. With Lindsay pretending to be my wife in the room behind me anyway.

  I already knew that no return trips I might make here would be the same. This was the end of the line for Lindsay and me, and this place, as beautiful as it was, would always be empty to me without her.

  Walking to the beach, I sat down on the sand and sipped my coffee while I got the unavoidable done with. I needed to do this—for both of our sakes.

  The first flight out was in just a few hours. It was on a different airline, but I knew a few people who worked there, and despite the time, I had my ticket sitting in my email inbox ten minutes later.

  I finished my coffee slowly, lost in thoughts and memories and doubts about whether I was doing the right thing. Lindsay being upset tomorrow was the last thing I wanted. I wanted her to have a good memory of me, and it was probably best if my big romantic gesture was it.

  While I’d been in town to choose the dress, I’d had a photo of us printed off my phone and bought a handcrafted frame for it to go in. In the picture, our cheeks were pressed together while we sat on the beach one afternoon, and we were both smiling like we’d never been happier.

  Slight stubble dusted my chin on the image, my eyes vibrantly alive and my features relaxed. I knew it was probably one of the best pictures I had of myself, but I also knew it was only because she was in it.

  God, those eyes. Even though the picture had been taken days ago, I felt like she was peering straight into my soul. Her mouth was tipped into a smile, and I remembered the joke I’d made just before.

  Her nose was slightly wrinkled, but I recalled the exact moment it’d scrunched up when I’d whispered the dirty joke into her ear a millisecond before I’d snapped it. In that moment, neither of us had been thinking about this day. The day when we’d have to face the realities of going back home.

  We both had jobs to get back to. Lives that wouldn’t wait on us forever. But in that moment, that had been our life and it’d been pretty fucking good.

  Quietly pulling the framed copy I’d had made for her out of my bag once I got back inside, I padded back into the bedroom and put it down on top of her suitcase. With yet another task done before it was time to leave, the weight in my stomach became heavier and heavier.

  This is really fucking happening. I’m leaving. It’s over.

  When I’d approached her and asked her to play along that first day in the lobby, I hadn’t thought it would hurt when the time came to go home. But it did.

  I was no stranger to pain, and I’d endured my fair amount of it, but this was different. It felt like someone was taking a blowtorch to my insides and wouldn’t fucking let up when I said mercy.

  I gathered my things without making a sound, efficiently wiping every trace that I’d ever been here from existence. The sofa-bed wasn’t even rolled out anymore, considering that I’d only used it the first couple of nights.

  Once my duffle and my backpack were packed, I gave the bungalow a last onceover and noticed my dirty mug standing there. With a heavy heart, I walked over to the sink and rinsed it out, removing even that.

  When Lindsay woke up, it’d be like I’d never even been here. That was the best I could do for her. If she didn’t want to say goodbye, I wouldn’t leave anything behind for her to say goodbye to.

  Except the picture.

  Because I couldn’t simply erase the whole week. I just couldn’t. I wanted her to have something tangible to remember me and the memories we’d made. That picture was the best representation of those memories I’d been able to find.

  Softly letting the door click shut behind me, I walked away from her feeling like I was being flayed from the inside out by that fucking blowtorch. I breathed through the pain, but it was difficult. Much more so than it should’ve been.

  I’d been shot, for God’s sake, and that hadn’t hurt as much as leaving her did. It wasn’t just the pain I had to deal with either. There was also the intense urge to chuck this fucking plan out the window, run back to the bungalow, crawl into bed with her, and then try to come up with a different plan that didn’t involve us leaving at all.

  But I couldn’t.

  Because I’d promised, more than once, that I’d always protect her and that I’d never let her get hurt. She hadn’t asked for anything in return when she’d put her faith in me to keep those promises, but she had told me she didn’t want to say goodbye to me today.

  So this was what I had to do.

  Big Mac was in the lobby when I passed through about an hour before the sun rose, lugging a crate of fresh
bread across the floor. His brows lifted when he saw me. Then he broke out in a wide grin.

  “Jaxon! What are you doing up so early?” He noticed my bag and studied my face, dropped the crate on a side table, and came over to grip my upper arms with the most serious expression I’d ever seen in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice raspy thanks to the pain I was doing my best to keep bottled up inside. “I have to leave, man.”

  “Why?” He frowned deeply. “Did something go wrong last night?”

  “Nope. Just the opposite.” I knew Lindsay had told him the truth about us, and I could see the genuine concern he looked at me with. “She said she didn’t want to say goodbye. If I don’t leave now, I’ll still be there when she wakes up. Girl never sleeps in.”

  I barked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. Big Mac obviously knew I was full of shit because he crossed his arms over his wide chest and stared me down.

  “Did you speak to her at all last night?”

  “Yeah. We talked for hours.” I gave my head a light shake, trying to force those memories from my mind for right now. If I thought too much about them, I was abandoning my attempt at giving her what she wanted and going straight back to bed. With my fucking wife. “Look, man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing has changed since we talked yesterday morning. We’ve both got to go back to our lives.”

  “Why can’t you go back together?” He narrowed his eyes. “You seemed to do everything well together while you were here.”

  I ran my hand up and down the back of my head, trying to come up with a good enough answer. “It’s complicated. We’re both really busy back home and she’s been through a ton recently. I’m not adding to that.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself,” he commented.