Until I Met You

by S. L. Scott

  Opening his eyes, he watched her. When her eyes met his, he pulled her up. “I want to come inside you.” He sat up and they traded places. He also wanted to take it slow with her. For her and him.

  He was between her legs, looking down over her body—so open, so willing for him. Only him. Forever. He started on her hipbone. He kissed, and then sucked the tender skin of her belly until a red mark appeared. His tongue tickled her belly button and he moved up to her breasts, covering each one with his mouth. Kissing the outside of her breast, he sucked until the blood rushed just under the surface. He kissed her lips twice and had to stop himself from marking her neck.

  With his head between her legs, he sucked so hard that she grabbed his hair and moaned his name when she came. Turning to the side he sucked the inside of her thigh until her body gave in and a deep red mark appeared. His tongue ran over it several times until he kissed her sweetness and the pulsing gave way. He should care about safety… about protection. But with her, she made him lose himself before reason could catch up. Upon her, he nipped at her neck and pushed inside her warmth. His breath was jagged, the feeling almost overwhelming. When he looked at Jude, her lips were parted, her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed.

  Her name escaped his lips as a moan and she opened her eyes to him. “I love you.”

  In the middle of the ecstasy of it all, she smiled, her hand pulling him by the neck down to her. When their lips kissed, she said, “I will love you ’til my dying day.” Kisses. “I want to be on top.”

  Their bodies were adjoined and they rolled over. She sat atop him with her hands on his chest controlling every roll of her hips, every lift, and fall. Her eyes stayed fixed on him while his hands traveled over her skin as he rediscovered the landscape of her body. Each dip and curve led him somewhere even more provocative until he was losing his senses, the storm clouds gathering. He grabbed her by the hips and thrust hard twice before he crashed, his soul shattering inside her.

  When he lay there with her head on top of his thudding heart, he realized Jude was right. Taylor was drunk—sex, life, and otherwise. He was completely intoxicated by this woman. He couldn’t get enough. She had become another drug his body needed to survive despite the warning signs to be careful, to slow down. Could they sustain this high? It was all too good. He felt too alive. Life tasted too sweet. They were moving so fast. An endless merry-go-round that neither wanted to jump off. He held her tighter, and closed his eyes.

  An hour later after they had rested, she held his hand above her. “Your lifeline is too short,” Jude noted as she traced the different sections of the broken line on his palm several times. He closed his hand tightly, wanting to hide his Achilles heel. He should tell her, but he couldn’t bring himself to add to her misery. He held her hand above his head, looking at hers. She didn’t squirm or move away. With her head against his shoulder, she stared at her open palm like he did. “And mine’s too long.”

  Frustrated, he put her hand down and sat up. “Why do you say stuff like that?”

  Her eyes flashed to his, but she stayed with her head on the pillow they had been sharing. She was tired and didn’t want to argue with him. “Nobody really believes that stuff anyway.”

  Leaning forward against his bent knees, he stared at the pink wallpaper with the little white flowers. He finally closed his eyes and shook his head at himself. Lying back down next to her, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not upset, Hazel. You don’t have to apologize to me.” She turned on her side, facing him, and closed her eyes. “Let’s get some sleep. You’ll need to leave in two hours.”

  Turning toward her, he slid down until they were eye level. He kissed the tip of her nose, and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Jude.”

  “Sweet dreams, Hazel.”

  Two hours felt like seconds. Taylor rolled over and groaned. “No. I need sleep.”

  Jude shook him again. “Wake up. You need to go.” She kissed his bicep, then squeezed it. “I like your arms,” she whispered near his ears. Her hand roamed over his chest and stomach. “And your body.” Lower. Lower. “And this part of you especially.”

  A sleepy smirk crossed his lips. Rolling onto his back, Taylor said, “And here I thought you loved me for my heart.”

  “I do. I love you for your heart. I like you for your body.”

  He sat up and she sat up with him. Kissing her, he said, “You’re gonna be my wife.”

  “I am, but not if you don’t get out of here now.”

  He rubbed his erection against her leg and glanced at the clock by her bed. “It’s four thirty-seven. We have time. I’ll be quick.”

  “I don’t want you to ever be quick. I want it long and slow, hard and passionate.”

  “It will be all those things, except slow. C’mon, I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

  The sound of baby rolling off his tongue so easily when referring to her made her heart cartwheel in happiness, but he needed to go or happy would be the opposite of what she would feel. She pushed him gently, and said, “You need to go. We’ve got plans to make and I need you alive to make them.”

  With a heavy sigh, he got up. “I’ll go, but I’m coming for you, Jude Boehler, and I’m never letting you go again.”

  “Swear?”

  “I swear to you. Never letting you go again.”

  When he was fully dressed, he kissed her goodbye at her bedroom door and then she led him to the foyer downstairs. But she couldn’t let him go without another so she took him by the shirt and pulled him to her again. Planting her lips on his, his hand went into her hair at the back of her head. They leaned their foreheads together before he kissed her there.

  A light was flicked on overhead, and a woman’s accented voice said, “Good morning, Judith.”

  Jude’s heart stopped at a standstill in her chest. Taylor looked at the woman in her robe staring at them as Jude’s hand fell away from him. Nadia added, “Mr. Barrett.”

  “Good Morning,” he replied, not sure if he should say anything at all.

  Nadia eyed Jude before turning her full attention on Taylor. “I suggest you go before the house wakes.” She walked past him and started opening the door.

  Jude stood, terrified. Taylor brushed his hand against hers, and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.” When she finally looked him in the eyes, he smiled at her. “I promise.”

  She nodded and watched him go.

  Nadia added, “Good day, Mr. Barrett.”

  He glanced back once, then headed outside. The door shut and Nadia tightened the belt of her robe before turning back. Her hair hung down and her face was clean of makeup. Jude had never noticed how pretty Nadia was before. She assumed because she didn’t tend to notice such niceties about her enemies. “You should go upstairs, Judith, and don’t come down until you’re dressed and ready for the day. I suspect today will be a long one.” She passed her and went back down the hall from where she came.

  Jude remained, her heart now beating wildly in her chest. Then she ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into her room. She shut the door quietly behind her and leaned against it until she caught her breath. Seeing the pallet they had made, the place where they made love, and commitments of forever, made her smile so big that she flopped down on it and hugged the pillow to her chest. When she took a deep breath she caught the scent of her forever still lingering. She curled around the pillow and closed her eyes, wanting to live in this bliss until she could be with her Hazel again.

  JUDE SAT AT the other end of the table from her stepfather. Her mother flanked his side, but her place had been sequestered four seats down. This had been where she and her brother had always been relegated, but since he died, she sat down there alone. Some mornings Isla sat by her. This morning Isla wasn’t here. She hadn’t returned from her night out.

  After her glass was filled with orange juice, she picked it up and moved her entire place setting down the table until she was across from her mother and next to her stepfather w
ho sat at the head of the table. “What are you doing?” he asked before eating his toast.

  “I don’t want to sit alone.” She eyed the juice wondering if that’s how they were drugging her.

  Her mother put her coffee cup down and smiled at her daughter. “How was your night, Judith? I heard the Stevens and Barrett boys took you and Isla out. That must have been a nice change.”

  “It was. About Taylor,” Jude started.

  Her stepfather put his tablet down, and said, “Who’s Taylor?”

  Jude tried to hide her nerves by eating and reached for her fork. “Taylor Barrett.”

  “Oh,” he replied.

  Her mother said, “He seemed nice at the Stevens’s dinner.” She lowered her voice as if Taylor would hear her. “So sad about his illness.”

  The forked strawberry touching Jude’s lips was lowered as she raised her eyes to her mother. “What do you mean?”

  Her stepfather was agitated. “Can you save the gossip for when I’m gone?” He set his fork down and finished his coffee as her mother watched him and Jude stared at her mother. He stood and walked away from the table. As soon as he was gone from the dining room, Jude, feeling sick to her stomach, asked, “What do you mean sad about his illness? What illness?”

  Her mother picked up her coffee cup again and signaled for Nadia, who came and refilled it. Nadia’s eyes were on Jude, the exchange between them one of caution. Surely Jude was misreading her, but she didn’t care about that right then. “Mother?”

  “Yes, Judith. Let me get my coffee. The Barrett boy—”

  “Stop calling him that. His name is Taylor.”

  “What has gotten into you today? She set her cup down and looked exasperated. He has Parkinson’s.”

  “What? Parkinson’s? No.” She shook her head. “I thought you had to be older…” She knew nothing of Parkinson’s disease other than the obvious—tremors. She had never seen him tremor.

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure that’s what his parents told us at dinner. He was in and out of hospitals for a few months until they gained an accurate diagnosis.” She lowered her voice again as if they were conspiratorial sisters. “That’s when his fiancée cheated on him with his friend.” She made a face of distaste. “Such a scandal. I almost wish we would have known them then. It would have made tea time much more interesting.”

  Jude sat there, staring at her, staring through her.

  “Are you not feeling well, darling?”

  Jude snapped her gaze down. Though she was hesitant to drink anything she had not served herself, she drank her juice to coat her drying throat, Hazel’s words echoing in her head. “I promise to love you always. I promise to protect you all of my days, my entire life.” Then her words. “Your lifeline is too short.”

  “I had no idea. How is he? What did his parents say?”

  “You tell me. How was he last night?”

  Blissful. Romantic. Handsome. Sexual. Marry me? She pushed her plate away. “He was happy.”

  Her mother smiled. “Well, that’s nice. Maybe it doesn’t bother him anymore.”

  Jude became impatient and stood up. “I don’t think Parkinson’s works like that, Mother.”

  “His mother, Betsy, asked me to co-chair a fundraiser for research in June. I think I’ll accept. I’ve been bored with the usual charities.”

  Holding back what she really wanted to say, Jude said, “Charities aren’t for entertainment. They’re important in raising awareness and funds. But since you’re bored and all…”

  “Jude?” her mother called after her.

  Jude stopped under the arched doorway, her hands on the molding. She turned around and asked, “What?”

  With her back to Jude, she asked, “What is that ring you’re wearing?”

  There was nothing believable Jude could say, so she didn’t say anything at all. Just as she turned to leave, her mother added, “I married your father for love.”

  Turning back around, Jude asked the question she had always wondered, “Why did you marry Brewster?”

  “For security.” Her mother turned to meet her only daughter’s eyes and asked, “What will you marry for?”

  Jude paused to think, but decided it wasn’t anything she wanted to share. Her heart, soul, and mind knew what she would marry for. She left, leaving her mother and that question in the bright room at the back of the house. As she walked up the stairs, Roman said, “Good morning, Hummingbird.”

  “It is morning. As for good…”

  “You doing okay?” When she looked down at him, he was smiling—warm and welcoming, a gladiator with the heart of the sun inside.

  For him, Jude returned a smile, though it was small. She sighed, “I don’t know anymore.”

  “You’re stronger than you realize.” He nodded.

  Wanting to believe him, she said, “Sometimes I forget.”

  “Remember who you are on the inside. You’re strong and fast. Smart and brave. Never forget who you are.”

  When Ryan died, Roman had been there for her when her family had mentally checked out. When they returned to their day-to-day, like he had never existed, they blamed her, her stepfather leading the charge…

  “If you hadn’t convinced him to go to California, he wouldn’t have been going to the luggage store.”

  “You preyed on his kindness by convincing him of your lies. He could have gone to college here in the city. But no, you were always trying to get his attention and when he believed you, you wrote his death sentence.”

  Her friend, her only friend other than Hazel, touched her shoulder. Her eyes flicked up to his and he said, “Be brave, Hummingbird.”

  She nodded, taking his words to heart. In her room, she went to the back of her closet, dug into a pair of Prada heels, and pulled out Hazel’s phone number. She wanted to talk to him, to see him, to hold him, to cry for him, to marry him. But she wouldn’t call him. It would show on the bill. And she had to protect him from them, from her parents. She had to protect him for herself.

  She tucked the number into her pocket, slipped on a pair of flats, and grabbed a light sweater, then waited on the edge of her bed for eleven o’clock. At ten fifty-eight she ran downstairs and out the front door. She had no time to waste, so she hailed a cab and went to Hazel’s apartment. She twisted the ring around her finger the whole ride over. Everything she felt for him hung in the balance of her heart, teetering between love and devastation. She needed to know how he was. She needed to see him, to touch him, to love him.

  Entering his building made her feet lighter. She was being carried on the wings of euphoria, each step easier than the last. She wasn’t walking to her future. She was running toward it. Taking a breath, she held it, and knocked on his door.

  The door opened and he stood there with his lips parted and confusion furrowing his brow. “Jude?”

  Throwing herself forward, she jumped up and wrapped her body around his and kissed him. Then, again. He kicked the door closed and held her against it. When they parted, they remained close enough to share their panting breaths. He said, “You’re here.” When he pressed his abs against her center her head knocked hard on the wood and he kissed the exposed skin of her neck where it met her shoulder.

  He was strong. He was virile. He was not sick. That much was obvious to her eyes, but she had to know for sure. “Hey,” she said, bringing his face up to see hers.

  Lowering her down until her feet touched, he said, “I thought we were meeting at the park?”

  “I couldn’t wait.”

  His glorious smile chose to shine on her. “I’m glad you didn’t. Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

  Giggling, she replied, “Yes, so much, but I need to talk to you first.”

  “Okay.” He walked to the couch and she stared at him, stunned. Jeans that hung low. No shirt. Boxers peeking out the top, and a V that directed her eyes below the waistband. He was an alluring tease as he stood there waiting for her to join him. Sitting on the couch, he patted it. �
�C’mere.”

  She started walking on shaky legs. As she passed the bar, she debated if she should stay there to preserve clarity. That seat next to him was tempting, but she knew she’d be flat on her back within seconds. So she hurried to his side and sat down. His hands were instantly on her. “You know how much I love this dress on you, but man, I want it off so badly.”

  He lowered her straps, but she stopped him. “We need to talk first, then we can get to the action.” She backed up a bit and put her hands out. “Wait on that side of the couch or we’ll never get to talk.”

  Chuckling, he moved. “I’ll be good. What do you want to talk about?”

  “I want to marry you.”

  Taylor automatically started moving closer to her again when she said that. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to marry you.”

  “What were you thinking about for the ceremony? Because I was thinking we elope. Just do it.”

  His eyes flashed with an excitement. “You want to go to City Hall? No ceremony? No white dress? No pomp and circumstance?”

  “None of it. Just you and me, Hazel. That’s all I need.”

  Suspicion crossed his face. “Has something happened with your family?”

  “No, everything is fine.” She moved closer to him and touched his leg. Looking him in the eyes, she said, “I just want to be your wife for as long as we both shall live.” Testing him. Seeing if he would tell her.

  He didn’t flinch. He only smiled bigger. “I want you to be my wife for as long as we both shall live too.” Looking down, he said, “I like that you’re still wearing the ring.”

  “I’ll wear it the rest of my life.”

  Touching her leg, he leaned in and kissed her. “So you really want to elope today?”

  “I do.”

  “You stole my line.”

  “I think we can share it.”

  “Fifty-fifty from here on out. Do you want to go shopping?”

  “No,” she said, confidently. “It’s the dress I met you in. It’s the dress you tell me I’m beautiful in, so it’s the dress I want to marry you in.”

  “To be fair, I tell you you look beautiful in everything you wear.”