If Forever Comes

by A. L. Jackson

  Instantly, fire scorched through me.

  Without breaking the kiss, Christian shifted and nudged my knees apart with one of his own. Gently he settled himself between my thighs. He urgently clutched the side of my face, his fingers trailing along my jaw, dipping into my hair, and running down my neck as he kissed me. Suspended a mere breath above me, his strong body pitched and lowered and teased, the lightest brushes and whispers that promised me what was to come.

  I sighed into his mouth and let my fingers work into the rigid muscles of his back as he drowned me in the upsurge of his passion. He was gentle, so gentle, as if I might break, my fragile body safe in the security of his arms.

  He groaned as he pulled back, his mouth at my jaw, nipping at my chin. “God, it’s been too long since I’ve been inside you, Elizabeth.” Rough, ragged words dropped from his mouth, his muscles ticking, twitching, begging for my touch.

  I’d been so sick that I didn’t think we’d made love but three or four times in the last few months.

  And this…I wanted this. Needed this.

  Christian grew hard and thick between us. The heavy weight of him rubbed against my belly. No question, the man needed this, too.

  “Christian,” I mumbled, yanking at the shirt tucked into his slacks. My palms found the bare skin of his back, and I flattened them against the sinewy muscle that rippled and twisted, jerking beneath my exploration. My grip demanding, I drew him nearer.

  Did he have any idea how desperate I was to have him? How badly I needed him to possess me?

  Christian hissed as I raked my nails down the smooth skin of his back to his narrow waist.

  It would seem impossible, but just touching him seared me, scorching me in places that only existed with Christian. I trembled in anticipation. He intensified his kiss, forcing my surrender. His tongue played against mine. Desire pierced me when he sank his teeth into my lower lip.

  A deep moan echoed through the sanctuary of the room, a sound I almost didn’t recognize as it rolled from my tongue.

  My head spun with his assault, and I found myself struggling to make sense of how much I loved this man. He was everything, beauty and light, my rock, the other piece of my soul.

  And so incredibly beautiful. Sexy in every way. The fire in his blue eyes and strength of his body were something I would never get enough of. I would never get my fill, and the flame that he lit in the deepest places within me would never go dim.

  He was my all.

  “Shh…” he murmured, kissing me more as he lowered his onslaught, letting his hand flutter down my neck and glide to my breast.

  His flicked his thumb over my nipple. Another shock of desire belted me and I moaned a little more. Christian inched back. Never breaking our kiss, his firm hands roamed down my sides, digging into my ribs before he grasped me by the hips. For one second, he severed our connection and glanced up toward the silence radiating from upstairs, then looked back on me with a cocky grin lifting just one side of his mouth.

  “You need to be quiet because I’m going to take you right here, Elizabeth.” His voice came low as he uttered the command close to my lips. He reached between us and jerked the button on my jeans free.

  With his words, chills pebbled along my arms, lifted as a flush that rushed up my chest.

  “Please,” was all I could manage.

  I was shaking as I blindly hurried through the buttons of his shirt. Christian edged back so I could get to the ones mashed between our chests, pressing both hands into the cushions on either side of my head.

  He smirked against my mouth. “Are you anxious, Elizabeth?” he murmured, the question dripping from him as the slowest seduction. It vibrated through me.

  “Yes,” flooded from me as I pushed his shirt back from his shoulders.

  The man had no idea.

  He twisted out of his shirt, shaking one sleeve free from his wrist. He threw it to the floor and dove back for me as if I were his Promised Land.

  My entire being hummed, relishing in his urgency as he flattened himself on top of me.

  Guess he was anxious, too.

  He kissed me until I was breathless, until I was panting and my heart was pounding, knocking at my ribs.

  “Ugh…Christian,” I begged. I lifted my hips. “Please…need you…need you,” came as tiny pleas in between the desperate bid I made to get him closer, because I could never get him close enough.

  I quaked as Christian slowly slid my shirt up and tugged it over my head. He tossed it to the floor on top of his and sat back on his knees and took me in.

  Redness swept like wildfire just beneath the surface of my skin, heat and need and this passion I held only for him rising up to tint my flesh.

  I pressed my thighs into the outside of Christian’s legs, squirming, loving when he looked at me this way, knowing my expression reflected exactly what I saw in his.

  “Fuck, Elizabeth, do you have any idea what you do to me? Look at you,” he said low as his gaze cut a path of fire over my body. His eyes flitted away from mine, his attention dropping to caress the black lace that covered my breasts and down my body to land on my waist.

  Even the pass of his stare left a trail of chills in its wake.

  Christian’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his agile fingers tugging at the waist of my jeans. He slipped off the couch and pulled them off, then made quick work of my panties and bra. Watching me, he unfastened the button of his slacks and slowly lowered his zipper. He pushed them down, stepping from his slacks and boxers, revealing every inch of this man’s perfection. My eyes traveled his length. The lust that curled in my stomach sank, pooled as it throbbed between my legs.

  Pulling the soft fleece blanket from the back of the couch, he flung it out and wrapped it around his shoulders. Slowly he slid back over me and completely draped us with it, the light fabric concealing us in its cover, enveloping us, our bodies and spirits caged.

  I writhed.

  Christian prodded my knees apart as he settled back over me, his face intense, the blue of his eyes all afire in this passion that would never let us go.

  “I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered with his attention locked on mine.

  In the same second, he locked his grip on the outside of my thigh. His erection slipped along my center, teasing, taunting, tempting.

  “Love you more than you’ll ever know,” he said again as he tormented me, skimming his length along my folds.

  Desire pulsed, coiled in my stomach and shook my legs. I whimpered, arching my back as I crushed my chest to his.

  “I love you, Christian. Always. There is nothing that could make me stop loving you. Nothing that could make me stop needing you. You are my start and you are my finish, the one who’s going to be there for everything in between.” The words came as a solemn oath, my commitment to him.

  Christian was my forever.

  A pained smile edged his mouth as he held himself in restraint, his voice hoarse. “I will never let you go…never.”

  Heat sweltered between us, a fever of need building to a boil within the confines of the blanket, our bodies seeking, hunting for the other.

  Above my head, Christian rigidly held himself up with his hand on the arm of the couch, the other digging deep into the flesh of my hip. He clenched his jaw as just the tip of his erection pressed into me.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, gritting his teeth. “It’s been way to long.”

  I lifted my hips, taking more of him, but not enough. My fingertips dug into his shoulders, biting into his skin, imploring.

  Christian dropped to his forearms, his face an inch from mine. “You,” he whispered as he drew back, retracting what I had taken. Then he rocked into me with one solid trust.

  My mouth dropped open with the overload of sensation. It was something I would never get used to, the way Christian felt when he filled me. As if I were complete. Whole. And entirely desperate at the same time, because I would always want more.

  “Shit,” he whispere
d, the word thick, heavy as he held himself in check. Still, a satisfied smile spread across that gorgeous mouth. “That is never going to get old.”

  Agreement rumbled as a hoarse groan at the base of my throat.

  No, there wasn’t a chance. Christian’s touch would forever be familiar, but never, ever would it be routine.

  Christian pulled back and filled me again, decisive and firm, though still conscious of the child, a deliberate caution with each roll of his hips. This man…no…there was no question that he was my all. He spun me up and turned me inside out. Made me feel as if I was walking off a ledge in the same second I felt most protected within the safety of his hold. I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest as he worked and strained over me, and I completely let go. The blanket covered us, Christian’s body dancing with mine as the soft glow of the fire crawled up the walls, wrapping us tight.

  Comfort surged, spun with the knot steadily building in my core.

  Even though I could tell he was trying to hold them in, harsh grunts kept rising and escaping his mouth. His heart thundered and matched with the frantic beat of mine. Christian pulled back and stared down at me, his blue eyes shining with eternity.

  Then he smiled that smile that was only meant for me.

  We were one.

  There was no greater joy than this. No greater joy than being in his arms. The life I’d spent so many years longing for had been found in the devotion of this man. A connection that could never be severed, even in all those lonely, isolated years we’d spent apart.

  “You are my life,” he murmured, his eyes unwavering as they watched down on me. He grabbed my left arm that was wrapped around his neck, brought it between us as he tenderly kissed the ring that I wore proudly on my finger.

  I stared up at the man who possessed my heart, the one who owned my spirit, and whispered, “And I’m going to give you mine.”

  Present Day, Late September

  Awareness surged into my consciousness. I fought to hold onto the darkness, to press my eyes shut so I could remain in the sanctuary of sleep. Reluctantly my eyes fluttered open in the dense fabric of the pillow I had my face buried in. A groggy haze clouded my senses, and my mind reeled as I struggled to make sense of what it was that had jarred me awake.

  Lying on my stomach, I lifted my head. I blinked as my sight slowly adjusted to the muted light bleeding in from the heavy drapes I had pulled over the window. I squinted in the direction of my door. Knocking continued to resonate from downstairs. I rammed my face back into the refuge of the pillow, willing whoever was pounding at my front door to disappear.

  I should have known that would never be my luck.

  A key rattled in the lock. The front door unlatched and it slowly whined open.

  My pulse stuttered. Not in fear, but because I didn’t think I could handle this today.

  Every time, it was the same.

  “Liz?” traveled up the stairs on a direct pathway to my unwilling ears.

  Natalie.

  I didn’t respond. Instead I gripped the pillow, forcing my face deep into the fabric. Maybe if I bored into it hard enough, it would swallow me whole. Maybe…maybe I could just disappear.

  Footsteps creaked on the stairs. “Liz?” she called again, quieter this time. I squeezed my eyes tighter when I felt her presence emerge. My bedroom door sitting half ajar slowly swung open all the way.

  Tension hovered as a thick silence between us before, “Elizabeth,” finally flooded into my room on a troubled breath.

  Gathering the energy, I forced myself to turn toward her. I rested my cheek on the pillow, blinking over at my cousin who stood in my doorway with worry etching every line on her young face.

  She’d grown her hair out a bit, the dark blonde locks curling in a soft wave just over her shoulders. She wore her normal—a thin, over-sized sweatshirt with the neck cut out so it hung loosely off one shoulder, short-short cutoffs, and flip-flops. She turned up a soft smile.

  Casual and kind. She always was.

  “Hey,” she said quietly as she chanced a step into my room.

  “Hey,” I returned, my voice scratchy against my dry throat. I tried to pretend as if I was happy to see her. And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to see her, that I didn’t care about her or want her to be here. It was just the way she looked at me, as if she could possibly understand. Sympathy I didn’t want oozed from her pores. Her movements were slow as she came to stand at the edge of my bed, like maybe if she touched me, I would break.

  She seemed unwilling to accept that I was already broken.

  “It’s time to get up, sweetheart,” she almost cooed as she reached out and brushed the hair from my forehead. “I’m here to pick you up. We’re going to go to lunch with your mom and your sisters.”

  Internally I cringed. I knew it wasn’t their intention, but these interventions always felt more like an ambush.

  “You should have called first. I don’t think I’m feeling up to it today.”

  Though she tried to hide it, frustration leaked from her sigh. “Come on, Elizabeth. You’re never up for it. And you and I both know if I’d have called, you just wouldn’t have answered. You need to get out of this house. It’s just an hour or two.” She strode across my room and raked the drapes back from the window.

  Bright light burned into the room. I blanched at the unwelcomed intrusion.

  She headed back to the entryway. “Now go jump in the shower. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

  “Nat…” I mumbled, just wishing she would leave me alone.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re going to lunch, Elizabeth. You need to eat and your family needs to see you. Two birds with one stone and all.” She kind of laughed, though there was little humor to it. It sounded more like disappointment.

  I rolled onto my back and draped my arm over my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Just after eleven…which means it’s time to get up. Now scoot.”

  Resigned, I sat up on the side of the bed with my back to Natalie. I willed myself to leave the place that was my only reprieve. The only remedy for the bleakness of this life was found in the obscured blackness of sleep. Not in the pills they promised would make me feel better but instead just intensified the aching numbness. Not in the counseling sessions that did nothing but stir up the pain, those anguished hours that only amplified the loss.

  All I wanted was to sleep.

  I didn’t dream. I didn’t see. I didn’t hurt.

  I didn’t exist.

  Get up, I screamed at myself from within my mind.

  Sucking in a breath, my feet hit the floor and I pushed myself to stand. Pain rocketed through my body. Something physical. Something real.

  Clenching my hands into fists at my sides, I swallowed down the tears that worked their way to my eyes, hoping Natalie wasn’t there reading my posture from behind.

  “Go on,” she prodded at my back.

  I forced myself to nod and plodded into my bathroom. I turned the shower as hot as it would go and let it warm up as I shed the clothes I’d worn for days. Grimacing, I stepped into the steaming shower.

  Blistering heat scorched me as the water pelted my skin. I made myself stay under it, wishing it could somehow burn this sorrow away, begged for it to cleanse my spirit the same way it did my body.

  But it was no use. Unrelenting anguish built up in my chest and burst from my mouth and eyes. Beneath the shower, I placed my hands on the wall and dropped my head, bending at the middle as I gasped for breath. For countless minutes, I gave into it and let myself cry, let my grief go unseen in the water that pounded on my head and back. It streaked in rivulets down my body then dripped onto the tiles of the shower floor before it disappeared down the drain.

  Gone.

  I clutched my stomach as I wept.

  Gone.

  And I knew this hurt would never fade.

  Swallowing around the emotion lumped in my throat, I forced it all back inside
, searching for the numbness. The last thing I needed was for Natalie to think she needed to come up here to check on me. Quickly I washed, then turned off the shower.

  I dried and dressed. Mindlessly I ran a brush through the long length of my hair.

  I didn’t dare look in the mirror.

  Inhaling, I searched inside myself for some semblance of normalcy, and I trained my expression as I left my room and started down the stairs. I gripped at the railing as I took them one by one.

  Natalie looked up from where she stood in front of the couch, facing the stairs as she folded laundry.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I fumbled through the embarrassment that surged through me.

  “Pssh.” She smiled a smile that was much too fake. “I don’t mind laundry at all.” She inclined her head to the towering pile. “Besides, it looks like you could use some help.”

  I knew she meant it to be nice, but it punched me in the chest. I’d become helpless. Worthless. I couldn’t even fold my daughter’s laundry. It was pathetic.

  What was hardest for me was the fact that Christian was still financially taking care of me. Every two weeks, he deposited money into the account we shared, one we’d opened together as we’d started out on what was supposed to be our life together. A life I now had to accept was never meant to be. He never touched any of it, either, and I knew he left that money for me.

  It was humiliating. Demeaning.

  Yet I took it because I didn’t know what else to do. The thought of having to get up every day and go to work churned my gut into a frenzy of anxiety. So I took from the man I had broken, or maybe he had broken me.

  My chest squeezed.

  The truth was, it was life that had broken us both, ripping from us what we didn’t know how to live without.

  Natalie folded one of Lizzie’s shirts and stacked it on top of the growing pile. “So how are you feeling today?” she said in the most casual way, but with the heaviest of undertones.