One and Only Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  I reached down into the water between us and rubbed my hand along his thick, hard length, shivering with want. At my touch, he dug his fingers into my thighs. “Maren,” he said, his voice gruff. “Come back to my room. Stay the night with me.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, already hating the minutes that stood between now and the moment I’d feel him inside me again. The memory of it had my body tight in its grip. “Let’s go.”

  I didn’t want to wait for the next life.

  Six

  Dallas

  So much for sticking to the plan.

  I wasn’t much of a planner anyway, never had been. I liked spontaneity. In fact, I generally had three mottos in life:

  1. Rules are made to be broken.

  2. You only live once.

  3. A tiger doesn’t lose sleep over the opinion of sheep.

  So if I wanted something, I went after it.

  And I wanted Maren. We wanted each other.

  Even if it’s just for one night, she’d said. I want this again. I want you again.

  I shut off every other voice in my head.

  She was shivering in the passenger seat of the car, her hair messy and damp, her blouse clinging to her wet skin. But her smile was radiant, her laugh intoxicating. “Are you cold?” I reached over and took her hand, moving it into my lap. “I’m sorry. I promise to warm you up soon.”

  She giggled. “You better. But I hope no one sees us running through the lobby of the hotel like this.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “I don’t give a fuck who sees us.”

  “That’s because you look dark and sexy all wet. I look like a soggy golden retriever. When you look back on tonight, I hope you remember what I looked like when you picked me up for the prom, and not what I looked like when you took me home.”

  I picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, pressing down a little harder on the gas pedal. “First of all, I’m not taking you home anytime soon. Second, you look just as hot to me right now as you did then. Hotter, even. I think imperfection is sexy.”

  “Then I guess it’s your lucky day.”

  We were both quiet for a minute, and my mind wandered back to the start of it all. “Remember the first time we hooked up?”

  She nodded and laughed. “I was just thinking about that night, too. You were having a party at your house after Homecoming our junior year, and you threw me in the pool in my dress.”

  “You dared me to. I can’t resist a dare.”

  “I was trying to get your attention. I couldn’t wait around forever for you to notice me.”

  “It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed you. I just thought you were too good for me. Honor roll student. Teacher’s pet. Ballerina. Sweet little Maren Devine.”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “I’m serious. I had no idea you were into me until one of your friends said something. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  She giggled. “My date was not amused.”

  “Your date was a jackass.”

  “He was. He spent the entire night talking about his new Mustang. But at least he asked me to the dance.” She poked my shoulder.

  “I remember I pretended to feel all bad after tossing you in the water. I took you upstairs to my room to give you a towel.”

  “You took me upstairs to kiss me.”

  “Fuck yes, I did. Not sorry.”

  “My first kiss.”

  I glanced at her. “I remember.”

  She sighed. “My poor date didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Nope. Because then I offered to drive you home, so you wouldn’t get the seats in his new Mustang all wet.”

  “Pretty sure everyone saw right through that, including my date.”

  “I didn’t fucking care. That thirty minutes we spent parked down the street was worth it. Even if I did come in my pants.”

  She burst out laughing. “Did you? I don’t think you ever told me that.”

  “I did. When I walked you to your door, I tried to hide it by untucking my shirt, but I was terrified you were going to notice and be all grossed out.”

  “And I was terrified I was doing everything wrong, because I had zero experience.”

  “You did everything right. I promise.” Turning right onto Washington, I pulled up at the valet stand.

  “I don’t think I slept at all that night.”

  I put the car in park and looked over at her. “Babe, you’re not gonna sleep much tonight, either.”

  She grinned. “My heart is beating so fast right now.”

  Hand in hand, we raced through the hotel reception area and dashed into the elevator. Thankfully, we had it to ourselves, but I didn’t even wait for the doors to shut before I kissed her, pushing her back against the wall and running my hands up the sides of her ribcage. She threw her arms around my neck, her fingers sliding into my damp hair. When the doors opened on my floor, I backed out and she clung to me, her chest pressed against mine. I lifted her up and she locked her legs around me again like she had in the lake, and I managed to walk down the hall toward my room. At my door, I had to fumble for the card in my wallet, but she stayed right where she was, the strength in her legs holding her up.

  It took a few tries, but eventually the door swung open and I walked us inside the room. As soon as it slammed shut behind us, Maren released her legs and put her feet on the floor. I reached for the buttons of her blouse, but she stopped me. “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been in the lake. I feel like I need a shower.”

  “Good idea,” I said, pulling her into the bathroom and switching on the light.

  Two minutes later, our clothing and shoes littered the bathroom floor and we stood kissing beneath a stream of hot water, the steam rising around us. Her body was perfection—tight and toned, with curves in all the right places. Her skin was like satin beneath my hands. She had three tattoos, a lotus flower on her inner arm, three little birds on the front of one shoulder, and a hand of Fatima on her upper back. They were all beautiful, but I wished I’d been the one to do them.

  She wanted to wash her hair, and I thought I’d go out of my mind watching her rinse out the shampoo, her back arched in a mouthwatering curve, her nipples taut and tempting, her eyes closed as the water ran down her body. My dick was so hard I lasted about five seconds before taking it in my hand and lowering my mouth to one of her breasts. She moaned, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

  “Wait,” she pleaded, reaching for the soap.

  “Let me,” I begged, taking the bar from her. “I need something to do with my hands before I get myself off just watching you.”

  She laughed, deep and throaty. “That could be hot, too.”

  “Another time.” I lathered her up from head to toe, willing myself to finish the task without losing control. I wanted my mouth on every inch of her body.

  When she’d rinsed off, she reached for the soap. “Want me to do you?”

  “Uh, that’s always a yes,” I said, closing my eyes as her soapy hands moved over my chest and shoulders.

  “I love your tattoos.” She moved around me, lathering my back and sides. “I want to hear about them.”

  “Tomorrow.” I grabbed the soap back from her. “Let me finish this. I’m going to fucking explode in a second, and I’d like to preserve my dignity tonight.” Quickly, I finished up, set the soap aside and dropped to my knees in front of her.

  She gasped when I grabbed one leg and kissed my way up the inside of her thigh, and reached out to catch her balance, one hand on the tile wall. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t think I got enough dessert.” I dragged my tongue up the center of her pussy, slow and soft. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.” I did it again, and again.

  “Oh, God. That feels … so good.” Her other hand slipped into my hair as I circled her clit and sucked it gently into my mouth.

  She tasted even better than I remembered—more like a dream than a memory. I slung her leg
over my shoulder and slid one finger inside her, then two. She was hot and tight and slick. My cock twitched in jealous agony, and I pulled my fingers from her and wrapped them around my erection, fucking my fist for a moment of relief.

  “Oh fuck, that’s hot,” she whispered. “And you’re so good with your tongue. Oh my God, Dallas, I’d forgotten—what this is like—I’m going to—”

  The leg she stood on began to tremble and her cries grew incomprehensible. I took my hand off myself and used my fingers inside her again, pushing in deeper, seeking out all her hidden pleasure spots, and paying close attention to the way she responded to each flick and stroke and swirl of my tongue. I wanted to give her exactly what she needed to fall apart above me. I wanted her leg to buckle. I wanted to make her scream.

  A second later, her body tightened around my fingers and her voice echoed off the tiles as the orgasm ricocheted through her. I felt her clit pulse against my tongue, and my body surged with adrenaline. Lust. Greed.

  I rose to my feet and she threw her arms around my neck, crushing her lips to mine. Once more, I lifted her up and she twined her legs around me. Reaching between us, I positioned my cock beneath her and hesitated. “Is it okay? Do you want me to get a condom?” The last thing I wanted to do was leave that shower, but if she asked me to, I would. “I don’t mind. I always use one, although I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Almost a year.”

  “I win. It’s been two years.”

  “Let me go get a condom,” I said, starting to lower her.

  “No!” She clung to me with her arms and legs. “No. Don’t leave. It’s okay,” she murmured against my lips. “I’m on the pill, and I trust you.”

  Of course she did. She always had. Was I violating that trust now? Wouldn’t she be angry if she knew what I was keeping from her?

  For fuck’s sake, don’t think about that.

  I shoved every thought from my head and focused on what it felt like to ease into her body again, to watch her face reflect the pain and pleasure of taking me in deep, to hear her strangled breaths and anguished sighs, to feel her fingers clutching at my shoulders.

  “I forgot how big you are,” she whispered. “But I love the way it hurts. I missed it. I missed you.”

  Holding back as much as I could, I went slow until I felt her body relax and she began to issue breathless commands against my lips that had me driving into her with deep, rhythmic strokes. Fuck me. Yes. Right there. Don’t stop.

  It was unbelievable—I was with Maren again, I was inside her, nothing between us. It couldn’t be real. It was too good to be true. For a moment, I was terrified my head was messing with me. Was I hallucinating? Was I conscious? Was this some kind of altered state? Was she only a ghost? A memory?

  I opened my eyes. No, no—she was here. I could see her, I was holding her. She was gorgeous flesh and blood in my arms. I was kissing her and touching her and moving inside her. I heard my name on her lips.

  Dallas…oh God…Dallas…it’s happening again…yes, yes, yes…

  I began to let go, bracing her against the wall and pounding into her so viciously I was sure her back would bruise. And I liked it—I was such a fucking dick that I liked the idea she’d leave here tomorrow with black and blue marks on her unblemished skin, something more than an insubstantial memory. I wished it were permanent, a tattoo.

  She came a second time, her cries even louder, her hands fisted in my hair, her body clenching tight as my cock surged inside her. I thought my legs would give. I thought my heart would explode. I thought my life would flash before my eyes.

  When it eventually became clear that I wasn’t going to die right here in the shower at the Westin, I started to breathe again. Our foreheads rested together. Her arms and legs were still wrapped around me, and I didn’t want her to let go.

  Ever.

  She picked up her head. “My God. It’s true.”

  “What’s true?”

  “A woman can have two. In a row.”

  “Two orgasms, you mean?”

  “Yes! That’s never happened to me before.”

  I felt like a hero. “Good.”

  “And you know what else I just realized?”

  “What?”

  “We never did this before. Took a shower together.”

  “Probably because we lived with our parents, Maren.”

  “True.” She looked down at our bodies, still joined. “I like it. I like being able to see you. We were always in the dark, half-dressed or something. Nervous about being too loud or getting caught. We never really got to take our time.”

  “I don’t think I was capable of taking my time back then.” I kissed her lips, her cheek, her throat. “But tonight is a different story.”

  “Or at least another chapter in the same story.” She brushed the hair off my face. “We never really felt finished to me.”

  “Me neither.”

  We were both silent then, even though there were a hundred things I wished I could say.

  I still love you. I never stopped. Run away with me. Let’s go, just the two of us. We’ll rewrite history, give ourselves a different ending this time.

  But deep down, I knew that was impossible.

  When our fingertips started to shrivel, we got out of the shower and dried off. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, as if I was afraid she was going to disappear.

  She looked around at the clothing scattered on the bathroom floor. “I should probably hang my stuff up. I’m going to have to walk out of here in it eventually.”

  I didn’t like thinking about her walking out. “I’ll hang it up for you.” Tossing my towel onto the vanity, I leaned down and picked up her blouse and skirt.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed my towel, hung it on the back of the bathroom door along with her own, and scooped up her undergarments. “I’m just going to rinse these out real quick.”

  I left the bathroom and hung her clothing in the closet next to a couple shirts of mine. Then I stood there for a moment. I’d never lived with anyone, so I’d never shared a closet before. It sounds stupid, but there was something I liked about seeing our things hanging side-by-side like that. I shut the closet door and caught Maren’s reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of it. She stood naked at the sink, rinsing out her things. My chest felt tight. This is what it would be like. We’d do little things for each other, we’d observe one another doing insignificant, routine tasks, we’d walk around naked with no shame. For a moment I let myself imagine it, a life together without the tick of the clock in my head, counting down the hours we had left.

  But that was pointless. Time was not on my side.

  She caught me looking at her in the mirror and smiled over her shoulder. “Hey.”

  I went into the bathroom and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, pressing my lips to her shoulder. I needed to make the most of every moment we had. “Hey.”

  She wrung out her things and spread them on a hand towel to dry. “There. That’s a little better. Want me to rinse yours?”

  “No. I don’t give a fuck about them.” I kissed the back of her head. “Your hair smells good.”

  “Thanks.” She rested her arms on top of mine, leaning back into my chest. “You feel good.” Then she turned to face me, ran her hands up my chest and down my shoulders. “Tell me about your tattoos now.”

  “That could take all night, and I have better ideas.” Already my dick was showing interest in how close her hips were to mine.

  She smiled as she traced the Arabic lettering on my left deltoid. “Indulge me a little. What’s that say?”

  “It says, ‘I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.’”

  “That’s beautiful. But also sort of sad. What is it from?”

  “The Madman, by Khalil Gibran. He actually wrote it in
English, but I liked the look of the Arabic better.” I also liked that most people couldn’t read it. My connection to the sentiment wasn’t something I enjoyed explaining to anyone.

  “Did you design it?”

  “I draw all my tattoos. But someone else does them.”

  “What about this?” Her hand moved over the tiger on my left forearm. “Why a tiger?”

  “I like the way they move.”

  She nodded, running her palm over the ink covering my right shoulder and upper arm. “And this one?”

  “A Maori tribal design.”

  She drew a line with her finger down the center of my chest and over to the side of my rib cage, where I had decided to put the one tattoo I thought of as hers. It was an abstract drawing of a mermaid, done in sweeping minimalist curves. She’d once told me her name meant sea and she thought of mermaids as her spirit animal. “Ooooh, I love this. Did I ever tell you how much I love mermaids?”

  “I don’t remember,” I lied.

  “Does it mean anything?”

  It means part of you is always with me. “No. I actually drew it for someone else, but he decided on a different design, something more traditional. So I kept it for myself.”

  She bit her lip, nodding slowly as she studied it. “It’s beautiful.” Then she looked up at me wistfully. “Maybe you’ll design a mermaid tattoo for me someday. Maybe you’ll even do it.”

  I swallowed hard. Heard my neurologist’s voice.

  You should be prepared to lose some fine motor control on your right side.

  She focused on her fingers moving across my chest again. “I could come visit you in Portland or something.”

  I didn’t say anything, and she looked up again.

  “Would that be okay? To come visit you sometime?”