by Scott, S. L.
I giggle. “I think you said something similar when we met.”
“Probably. That was a long time ago.” When I turn back to read the tags stuck in each pot, he adds, “The light’s better in here.”
Not letting me down, I find a misting bottle, exactly like the one he once gave me, the one I still have, tucked among the pots. “May I?”
“Of course.” While I spritz, finding deep satisfaction and calm come over me, he adds, “You were never that into plants from what I remember.”
Shrugging, I keep moving along the wall. I say, “I’ve gotten better over the years,” but I don’t tell him that Frankie and Hemsworth have done fine under my care. That feels like too much right now. “Have you named them?”
“That one in front of you is Basil Evans, but sometimes when I’m feeling punchy after a long shift, I call him Bah-zil just to push his buttons.”
The joke is funny, but that he still finds humor with plants cracks my smile wide open. It’s really cute. Playing along, I ask, “Does he ever get revenge?”
“No, Chloe, it’s a plant,” he deadpans. When I turn back, he’s quietly chuckling. “Just pulling your leg. I never call him Bah-zil. I’m not a psychopath.” He rests back on the bed and checks his watch. “Wow, it’s later than I thought.”
Shaking my head, I set the bottle down and check my watch. “It’s nine. Got somewhere better to be?”
The mattress bends to his will when he pushes off and comes to me. Cupping my face, he kisses me without warning. It takes a split second for me to close my eyes and take hold of his arms. As we deepen the kiss, this one feels different from the others. This kiss fills the voids of all the ones we’ve missed over the years, bordering on a desperation that it might be the last. I feel it. I feel all of him and everything that this is.
Practically ripping us apart, he looks down as some other emotion takes over his features. “I couldn’t waste another minute not kissing you. I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He looks back up, questioning me with his eyes. “No?”
Passion consumes me—not only the sexual emotions he draws out, but a tinging anger that he won’t just take what he wants, take me in his arms or in bed, that he’s being sweet and kind to his own detriment. I need him here with me. I need him to push this confusion into understanding before I go crazy overthinking it.
I fist his shirt, not letting him run just like he wouldn’t let me and plead. “I don’t want you to be sorry for kissing me like it’s the last kiss you’ll ever get. Don’t apologize for us coming here or even for the mess you left behind because you had no plans on bringing someone home. Don’t be sorry about anything tonight because there’s nothing I’m sorry about.” This time, I kiss him, I kiss him with every bit of pain I’ve felt since I left that jail, the loneliness I denied, and the pent-up, raw desire he always brought out in me.
We move to the bed, but before we fall, he dips to kiss my shoulder. When he looks back up, his eyes penetrate the last of my walls left standing. He whispers, “You used to be my angel. Now you’re my reckoning.”
“Equal sinner and saint. You were the sides of me that others saw, and the one I saved for you.”
“I never dreamed I’d get to kiss you again.”
“You said no wasting time then.” I lift my shirt over my head and drop it to my side. His gaze dips, and I witness a restrained exhale before he pulls his off. We work our pants down, eyes on each other. Almost bare before him, I have no doubt I could turn back if I wanted. He’d let me, never wanting me to feel any pressure.
But stepping back enough to take him in, I admire his hard muscles, defined abs, and that damn sexy smirk. It’s not just my brain he’s stimulated or my curiosity in what his life is like now that brought me here. No, standing in front of this six-foot-two mountain of man, I crave him in deep-seated, carnal ways.
He’s just about to say something when I jump into his arms, kissing him while wrapped around him like a spider monkey. We fall onto the bed with him on top of me. I’d forgotten how the weight of his muscular frame used to keep me grounded, hope was found in his whiskey-colored eyes, and the way he touched me. I don’t let fear of the future hold me back from opening my legs to feel him settle between them again. The reminders have me closing my eyes and feeling . . . taking everything he’ll give me.
My shoulders ease, and my back molds to the mattress as he takes the sides of my panties down, leaving a trail of kisses across my belly, my hip, and lower. As much as I yearn to feel him inside me again, I won’t pass up his mouth working its magic first.
It’s been so long since I’ve lost myself in anyone . . . since Joshua.
As I run my fingertips through his hair, the tension from my legs disappears when his mouth touches my lower lips. Feel. I release another breath as the tip of his tongue slides through me and his lips kiss me as if he were kissing my mouth. It doesn’t take long before a wave of emotions beckons my shores, and the tide tightens my hold on reality. His heavy breath coats me, whispering, “You’re so beautiful,” the words whisked away under moans of pleasure.
I succumb to the feel, the sensations of him, edging me closer to the cliff. There’s no reprieve as I lose track of time and place. All that exists is the bond between Joshua and me and the stars that shine for us.
He’s quick to reach into the nightstand and retrieve a condom. I move higher, resting on his pillow. The musky scent presses down on my memories, suffocating my attempt to stay here, to stay present.
He returns and repositions himself. Caressing my face, he holds me here with him. I’m kissed with need when he enters me—slow and steady. I suck in a harsh breath, forgetting how full I feel with him. A delicious stretch, that familiar burn that subsides just as quick. I push my hips to his, closing the distance between us until he’s buried deep inside me.
Emotions rush through me as his whole being, his body and soul roll through me. Nothing was ever less with him; it was everything.
Everything.
Consuming me with every thrust, he places hot kisses on my neck. The groan that precariously balances between pleasure and a deep ache that comes from years of pain. Running my hands up his back, I weave my fingers into his hair and dip back to catch sight of his eyes. I’m not only exposing my body and heart to him, but my soul as he stills, open for him to see all of me.
When he opens his eyes, I whisper, “I’ve missed you. I feel it. I feel you.” My breath stolen off my tongue as I speak . . . taken, overwhelmed from being with him again.
He drops his head beside mine, and our bodies move together as we chase what bliss tastes like. Breathing each other in instead of air. This is all I need. All I need . . . “Joshua,” is kissed from my lips to his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
Our bodies seek the release, but my hands want more time to enjoy the size of him covering me. It’s too much to hang on, and I call his name again, the word alone a prayer echoing through the apartment until my release hits, before biting my lip and diving into a beautiful abyss.
My name whispered on the wings of his own release, leaving me floating limitless until we come down together. I could lie like this forever—our bodies sharing secrets, my bones jelly on the bed underneath him. Coherent, but weighted in us. Selfishly, I want it again. I want him.
A tear slips down my cheek to meet his pressed to mine. He looks up and kisses it. “Don’t cry, baby.” The sweetest name I was ever called becomes the one that brings gravity to fall on top of me. “What’s wrong?” Still peering into my eyes, he whispers, “You can tell me.”
I’m vulnerable to this man, my heart already losing the battle. Twisting those other three words on my tongue to snuff them out, I reply, “Don’t hurt me,” instead. My greatest fear is to have to live after losing him twice.
“I won’t.” Memories of a broken promise stay locked inside my head.
Closing his eyes, he breathes me in as if I’m air to him, filling his lungs again. But i
t’s the relief I see in his muscles that makes me think he’s in just as deep as I am. He rolls to the side, and with one arm over his forehead, I find the other and our fingers fold together.
We were once too young to last, but six years later, can we leave our love in the past? I know the answer already. “I believe you.”
45
Joshua
I believe you. . .
Those were some of the last words she said to me before the accident.
“I believe you . . . I love you bigger than the sky, Joshua . . . Watch out!”
That final exchange we had has played on a loop in my head. She doesn’t remember them at all. I remember more than the end. I remember how her fingers rubbing the back of my neck was comforting. That sunset reflected gold in her eyes. Her laughter like distant music lost in the wind. That she looked at me like I was her home.
Bigger than the universe. No one could touch us.
Except a father’s need to control his daughter.
There’s so much in the past to regret, but the biggest is telling her to never come back to me. I summoned it from the hell of my soul. That was the only way to convince her to move on . . . to leave me behind. She had to . . .
My dreams were destroyed, but hers didn’t have to be. She always had to leave. Or I would become the albatross around her neck slowly drowning her while I sat in handcuffs.
Not even three years later, I became a free man. I no longer carried hope like a penny in my pocket. Nah, there was no point.
Hope.
Salvation.
I held onto those for the longest time, knowing I couldn’t hold onto her.
Instead, I stood at a crossroad. Neither direction led me here nor prepared me for holding Chloe again. One night has me thinking the impossible. With so much baggage between us, is this something I want to pursue? Could we ever be something real again with everything we’ve been through? The fall has always been greater than the climb.
Is this an obsession, or an opportunity? I know what happened that last night, but I need her to know as well.
I scrub my hand over my face, too tired to think clearly. I loved Chloe and then lost everything. I’ve paid the price, but this penance came with sacrifice. I owe the devil. In a Newport jail cell, I traded one more taste of heaven for an eternity in hell. He came through, so what are my dues?
With her eyes closed, I kiss her cheek and then her temple. With her curled into me, I know it was worth it. All of it. How she changed me. How she made me live braver. She was worth it, even if this is it.
Stuck in my normal routine from the late-night shifts, it’s taken a while to get tired enough to sleep. I close my eyes before the sun starts to rise and drift into the memories we just made.
* * *
“Am I crazy?”
I’m startled awake to find Chloe wide-eyed and staring at me. Am I having a heart attack? Because it sure feels like I might.
“Holy fuck.” I paw at her to push her back, so I can see her more clearly. Sitting up like she is, I try to look around the room. “You scared the shit out of me, Chloe.”
“Sorry,” she says through light laughter.
When I realize we’re not being attacked, a yawn finally takes over as my heart slows down, and I rub my left eye, which is refusing to adjust to darkness. It finally opens, and I look behind me to check the time on the nightstand. 4:47. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me every girl isn’t tripping over themselves to be with you.”
My eyeballs feel like they’re on fire, my brain struggling to wake up. I lie back down. “I’m not up for solving riddles at four in the morning. Do you mind filling me in on what we’re talking about?”
“You, Joshua. You and me. And this bed.” The words rush from her mouth as if they’ve been locked up all night and need to be freed. “I’ve never done this. I’ve never been with someone where it feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest when I see you or shatter if I don’t.” She huffs, her hands dropping onto the pillow she dragged onto her lap. “I mean, what the hell? How can only you make me feel like this?”
My eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room, and with a grin, I run my hand over her shoulder, digging my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. “Well, I can’t tell you women don’t trip over themselves, your words, not mine, to be with me.” I shrug unapologetically and get promptly hit with a pillow.
Taking the pillow and capturing her, I maneuver her on top of me. “You’re not even kidding.” I double shrug because teasing her is just plain fun.
She adjusts to get comfy, straddling me with her hands on my chest. I rub the length of her arms, loving this view. She has a way of making me feel like I’m important, not just to her, but the world, making me excited to start a new day if I’m starting it with her.
“But if you’re asking me if this is different, if what we have, what we shared is special, the answer is yes. I never felt this with anyone else either.”
Her head tilts, and a soft aww is heard. Calm washes through her, and she slides down to my side again. I can’t see her face as she snuggles to my chest, but with her arm over me, she whispers, “Good. Now we’re even.”
Tilting her head up and seeing the smile I bring to her face makes me realize that I don’t care about the time if filling my nights with this bright light is within reach.
As I stare at her—peace filling her features—her smile softens, and her lids start to dip as the hand resting on my chest begins to slip.
Something powerful and strong, big like the sky that night at the lake, overwhelms me, and I hold her close, hiding my weakness for her as it takes over again. But I can’t hide the way my heart beats heavy, just like she can’t hide hers. I kiss her head, and whisper, “We’re even.”
Just when I think she’s about to fall asleep, her lids flutter open. “Joshua?”
“Yeah,” I reply, tilting back to see her eyes. Those green eyes are still calming seas to my restless sails.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Taking a deep breath, I try to regulate my heart from beating so hard. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly.
A shiver runs through her spine as if a cold breeze just caught her, and she cuddles closer. A yawn finds its way out, and then she closes her eyes again. “Sweet dreams.”
Kissing her head, I whisper something I never thought I have the chance to tell her again. “Sweet dreams.”
* * *
“Good morning.” Her sweet melody has me looking up. Chloe exits the hall dressed in my brand new Yale sweatshirt and nothing else. It wasn’t really purchased for that purpose, but she has more rights to wear it than I do, and if I ever wanted to see it put to use, damn, she can use it anytime. She adds, “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your sweatshirt. I didn’t feel like squeezing into my jeans yet.”
“Definitely don’t want you getting dressed yet, or ever.” Holding up a steaming mug, I add, “I was about to bring this to you.”
Her long hair is a mess, the brown strands tangled in the back and sprouting out, so I can enjoy the morning-after look. She wears it well, like my sweatshirt. She says, “You should have woken me. I could have helped.”
I chuckle. “You seem to have forgotten the kitchen is my domain. So, no worries, I can manage a French press.”
Wrapping her arms around me, she spins to the other side before I can catch her, teasing me with that stunning grin that I could spend my time reveling in. She lifts up on my right and steals a kiss before taking the mug. Her happiness is infectious. “I think you saying the kitchen is your domain might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
She’s irresistible. I don’t know if I can walk away from last night unscathed.
“Glad I can entertain you.” Ready to cook, I ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Starved. What are you cookin’, good lookin’?” She sips her coffee, cupping the mug between her hands like it’s winter in here. “You used to make
the best omelets.”
“Hint taken. An omelet coming right up.” I grab my pan and move to the prep area beside the stove. As I dig in the fridge, I glance back, busting her eyeing me. “Sleep well?”
When she stretches, that sweatshirt rides high on her thighs, but not nearly enough. “Yes, so good. Your bed is a little piece of heaven on earth. Is it made of clouds?”
“Cotton candy, actually.” I laugh. “It’s a good bed. I don’t remember you sleeping that heavy in college.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t. It was probably the wine and the good food.” She sends me a little wink.
“Just the food and wine, huh? Nothing else?”
“Nothing off the top of my head,” she says, tapping her chin.
Shaking my head, I keep my wry smile under wraps. “Man, tough crowd.”
“You never needed me to feed your ego back in New Haven. Is this a New York thing or do you just like the extra attention?”
“I needed the ego feeding. You just didn’t play along from what I remember.”
“Good point.” Giggling, she leans against the counter and ogles me. “Do you always walk around in your underwear with these big curtain-less windows?”
I start cracking eggs. “Yes. I figure if they bothered to dig out their binoculars to watch me, I owe them a show.”
“You don’t.” Wow, not even a laugh. She’s not having anything to do with my joke as she walks into the living room and stands in front of the middle window with her hand on her hip and coffee cup in the other.
And then I get it.
Moving to the island to beat the eggs, I savor the sight of her in my sweatshirt, drinking from my favorite mug, and standing in front of my windows. I ask, “Are you jealous?”
“Yes,” she replies flatly but angles back with a smile on her face. “Also, the sex. Compliments to the chef. See? I can give props when needed. I also give them when they’re deserved. You get both.”
Sex? I don’t remember her calling it sex much. It was making love, about the bond between us. Fuck, I’m on edge again. I’ve been trying to be cool and confident, but she turns me inside out. I start whisking . . . Now, it’s just sex. “Thanks.” I try for nonchalant and then take it out on the eggs.