by Katie Fox
And then he moved.
His lips trailed to my lower stomach, and I twitched slightly at the way he caressed me with delicate nips and warm breath, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste my skin. He carved a path, placing gentle kisses from my belly button all the way down to the sensitive bud, before licking slowly in long strokes.
Tension coiled.
And coiled.
And coiled.
Finally, it snapped.
I cried out, my back arching and my legs trembling at the delicious sensation powering through me and clenching every muscle, and Owen kept his hands on my hips, holding me still until my body stopped riding the waves of my release.
A satisfied grin stretched across his lips, and I tugged at his shirt, yanking him to me and kissing him hard. The taste of me on his tongue was insanely erotic, and I greedily wanted more.
Owen broke our connection, his eyes glittering down at me as he swirled strands of my hair behind my ears. There was a pregnant pause before he said, “You’re incredible.” He brushed his nose along mine. “I don’t think you realize how crazy I am about you.”
I swallowed the lump of unexpected emotion in my throat. “You make it really hard not to fall for you, you know that?”
His eyes flashed with what looked like guilt and regret, but it quickly disappeared, and I was determined to ignore it.
I kissed him again, softly. “I want you, Owen.”
At my words, Owen’s gaze darkened, and taking a step back, he quickly toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. I bit down on my lip, watching him, becoming more turned on as he popped the button free from its hole on his pants and lowered the zipper. He pushed them down his legs along with his boxers, and my breath caught in the back of my throat. I couldn’t help but stare at how magnificently beautiful he was—his strong broad shoulders, well-defined chest, narrow waist, and those deep cuts of muscle decorating either side of his lower torso.
Beautiful.
With burning eyes drinking me in, Owen pressed a knee to the mattress. I moved back, resting my head on the pillow, watching as he crawled over me, my legs falling open to welcome him between them. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to—I saw the love in every glimpse of those intense green eyes. I felt it in every tender kiss and in every gentle caress. I heard it in the beats of his heart.
Running a hand beneath my thigh, he took hold of my backside, sliding me down and adjusting me so our hips were aligned. His erection pressed hot and hard against my entrance, and as he lowered himself on top of me—his mouth finding mine in a passionate dance of tongues—he slowly rocked his hips forward. He slid into me in one long and torturously slow push, and I gasped at the fullness of him, my body trembling with his invasion. He placed a hand in the small of my back, pulling me flush against his chest as he continued his perfectly controlled thrusts.
Slow.
Deep.
In and out.
Back and forth.
Consumed by every hard inch, I closed my eyes, completely losing myself to the feel of him and his lovemaking. My hands clawed at his back, and my nails dug into his shoulders. Sweat slicked our skin, and the pressure in me built and built. Breathless, I tipped my head forward at the same time Owen adjusted himself, angling me in a way that had him sliding even deeper.
“Look at me.” His command spilled across my lips on a gruff whisper. “I want to see those beautiful eyes.”
My lashes swept up, and I held his gaze, enchanted. If this wasn't love, then I didn't know what was. I had never felt for anyone as much as I felt for Owen. No past relationship had ever come close to the way my soul ached for him, and it scared me. It scared me, but I was determined to fight the fear because the connection we had wasn’t going away, it was only growing stronger.
I knew that now.
Despite the fire our bodies were creating, I shivered, and Owen continued his assault of tender kisses. Our breaths mingled as he nipped at my lips, first the top then the bottom, his tongue tracing the curves of them before dipping inside and colliding with mine. It was intense, watching the pleasure escalate in his eyes, and the pool of tension twisting in my lower belly had me suddenly eager to reach my climax. I attempted to catch it by matching his rhythm, but Owen slowed me, gripping my hips.
“Please, Elle…” The words sounded like a desperate prayer as they left his lips on a harsh pant. “I don’t want to rush this.”
Nodding in understanding, I relinquished all attempt at control. I allowed him to make love to me exactly how he wanted: slowly, gently, and beautifully.
With every thrust, he buried himself deeper—deeper into my heart, deeper into my soul, and deeper into every fiber of my being—until I was no longer sure which part of me was me.
I WAS IN love with Elle Callihan.
I was in love with her smile and those bright blue eyes. I was in love with the fact that she didn't have it altogether. And I was in love with the way she loved: fiercely, passionately, and with selflessness in her heart. I was in love with her so much it physically hurt.
Sweeping a strand of hair from her forehead and running a knuckle down the length of her cheek and under her chin, I pressed my lips to her forehead, kissing her softly. I remained there for a moment, watching her sleep and breathing her in, committing to memory the smell of her skin and the gentle lines of her face. She was so damn beautiful, and I wanted to keep her, forever.
Forever.
Forever wasn’t nearly long enough.
Continuing to sit there, watching her sleep, I thought about how I would do anything for her. I’d move heaven and hell if it were possible, but everything about my life was impossible. It was impossible for me to be who she needed, and it was impossible for me to give her what was now so clear she wanted. Us. She wanted there to be an us.
God, Elle. I want that, too. I want that more than you could ever imagine. But I can’t give you an us because that would mean giving you me, and I can’t do that. I can’t do that to you. I don’t want you to remember me as the man who broke your heart but rather the man who gave it a reason to beat.
Taking one more look at her, I smiled sadly. And then I stood, grabbed my suitcase, and quietly—and with an intense pain in my heart—slipped out the door.
ELLE HADN’T SHOWN up to work on Monday nor on Tuesday, and had it been any other week, I would’ve been concerned. I was concerned actually, but I knew why she hadn’t come, and I couldn’t blame her. After the weekend we’d shared, I had left her. Again. Only this time, I had good reason. I was hopelessly in love with her, and because I was in love with her and didn’t want to see her hurt, I had to put a permanent end to us. Walking away from her had been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life.
It killed me.
So when Wednesday morning came rolling around and she finally made her appearance, storming into my office with fire in her eyes, my heart started to beat once again. I instantly remembered how alive I still was, and I rose from my chair, hurrying around my desk to meet her.
She stopped in front of me, and I was desperate to pull her into my arms—to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume and feel her heart beat wildly against mine. I wanted to apologize and tell her I’d never meant to hurt her, but the words were forced back down my throat as her hand flew through the air and slapped hard across my face, whipping my head to the side. I clenched down on my jaw, biting back a curse as the stinging sensation numbed my cheek.
“That’s for leaving me.”
Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, trying to reclaim the words I’d lost. “Elle—”
Whack!
She slapped me again, and I didn’t flinch this time. I took it. I gritted my teeth, fighting the pain. I deserved it. I deserved her anger. I deserved to hurt for what I’d done to her. For leaving her without saying goodbye or giving her an explanation.
“And that’s for paying off the mortgage on my parents’ restaurant, you son of a bitch!”
My ey
es watered, and I didn’t know if it was a result of the blows I had just taken to my face or if it was because I couldn’t bear seeing her like this: so upset, so damn distraught. Tears glistened in her big blue eyes, and the hurt and sadness pouring from them rivaled the strength of a tidal wave, knocking me back and dragging me under, making it impossible to breathe. I gasped for air, my lungs on the verge of collapsing.
“Elle—” Her hand came up to smack me for a third time, and this time I caught her wrist, stopping it mid-air. I yanked her entire body toward me, pulling her into my arms and pleading with her. “Stop. Please stop.”
She fought my hold, her tiny fists curling and beating hard against my chest in an attempt to break free, each hit another strike to my wounded heart. “I hate you, do you hear me! How could you do this to me? How could you sleep with me and then cut me loose by paying off my parents’ mortgage? I’m not some whore, Owen. I—”
“Jesus Christ, Elle.” I shook her shoulders, trying to pull her from the nonsense she was talking. “That’s not why I did it. Goddamn it, that’s not why I did it.”
“Then why!” Her voice screamed from the top of her lungs, echoing throughout the entire room, and despite my words and my gentle embrace, she was no calmer than when she walked into my office. Her entire body hummed with barely contained emotion. “Why did you leave me? Why do you—”
“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Elle!” I held her tightly, shouting the words as the tears burning the back of my eyes bled through to the surface. “I’m fucking in love with you, okay?”
She stilled in my arms, but I wasn’t done. There was still more to say. More hurt to experience. I had never intended to let it get this far. I took her face in my shaky hands, my voice softer now, my heart breaking at the apprehension in her eyes. “I’m in love with you. Do you not realize what we did Saturday night? We made love, Elle, and I realized if there was any woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life making love to it’s you.”
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and I reached up catching them with the tips of my thumbs, swiping them away but knowing there’d be more to follow in their wake. A painful lump clawed its rapid way up my throat, but I couldn’t swallow around it.
This hurt. This hurt so goddamn much.
“I want to give you forever. I want to give you everything.” Licking my lips and tasting the salty wetness of my own tears—not realizing they had fallen—I breathed out slowly. “But I can’t give you forever.”
Confusion marred her delicate features, the creases on her forehead multiplying and the corners of her eyes tightening as she gave her head a little shake. “You’re not making sense, Owen.”
I sighed.
Of course, I wasn't.
Releasing her from my hold and leaving her standing in place, I slowly walked behind my desk. I pulled open the drawer where I kept the orange prescription bottles which housed the cocktail of drugs that essentially did nothing for me, and with trembling hands, I grabbed them out, placing them on top. I lifted my head to look at her. Even through a vision blurred by tears, she was so heartbreakingly beautiful. “I can’t give you forever, Elle, because I don’t have forever to give. If I’m lucky, I have about seven months.”
Her gaze darted from my eyes and down to the orange bottles where it lingered, and I saw it. I saw the exact moment all the pieces of our broken puzzle finally clicked together: my skull-splitting headaches, the medication, my inability to let her in, and how I couldn’t possibly give her all of me because in a few short months there would be nothing left of me to give.
A sharp and sudden gasp parted her lips as air punched from her lungs, and her eyes snapped back to mine, a fresh round of tears lining them and readying themselves for release. “What?” Her chin quivered uncontrollably.
I choked back a sob, having no choice but to spell it out for her. “I’m dying, Elle. Four months ago, I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer. At that time, I was told I had about eleven months, at best.”
Stumbling back from the impact of my words, she shook her head, her gaze roaming over my face searching for any signs of deception. “No…” Her tears streamed faster, soaking her already wet cheeks, and I moved quickly around my desk, getting ready to pull her to me.
I needed her in my arms.
As I came closer, she held her hand up, jerking away from me as if any physical contact between us would burn her, and her rejection was like a frozen fist, slamming right through my chest and ripping out what was left of my shattered heart.
She blinked fast, her eyes wide and desolate, and this time a soundless “no” fell from her lips.
Fear and panic turned my blood cold. “Elle…” My voice broke. “Baby…please.”
I tried to reach for her again, and this time she turned on her heels, nearly tripping over the chair in her path as she fled from my office. I staggered backward. My head pounded fiercely— the pressure pressing against my skull excruciating—as if to confirm everything I had just said, and the ache in my chest amplified my inability to breathe.
Standing still, I watched helplessly as the woman who had given me so much to live for not only walked out of my life but ran from it.
Anger and frustration like I’d never experienced before—not at Elle but at my entire situation—shot through me, and I whirled around, sending everything on my desk flying through the air and crashing loudly to the floor.
“Fuck!”
Raw and painful emotion consumed me. Gutted me. Broke me.
My hands fisted in my hair, and my knees gave out, hitting the hard tiles beneath me. I attempted to force air into my lungs. It was no use. I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t...
“Owen?”
Millie’s concerned voice broke through the sound of my heartbreak, and I heard her choke back her own tears. And although I felt her pull me into her arms and her fingers stroke gently through my hair as she cradled me against her, I felt nothing inside.
I was numb.
The fire Elle had ignited within my heart with her laughter and smiles, her love, completely extinguished.
It would suffice to say that I wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. I didn’t even want to try, which was why I was walking around the streets of New York, my feet carrying me in the direction of the only place I wanted to be. The dim yellow glow of the streetlamps cut through the darkness, providing enough glow to navigate around at the late hour, and my chest squeezed tight as I recalled how my earlier interaction with Elle unfolded. She wasn’t meant to find out the way she had, but something told me that no matter how the heartbreaking revelation had come to light, it still would’ve ended the same.
She still would have left.
She needed time to process everything I’d told her, I knew that, but that knowledge didn’t stop it from hurting. It didn’t stop it from cutting through my chest and ripping out my heart.
I don’t know what hour it was when I’d finally left the office. After Elle had taken off, Millie refused to leave my side and it wasn’t until I raised my voice and threatened to fire her that she finally walked out of the building. It was wrong, holding her job over her head, especially considering she was more family than she was an employee, but I couldn’t be near her.
I couldn’t be near anyone.
Like Elle, I needed to make sense of everything that had happened on my own terms, in my own way. I needed to learn to accept the fact that the people Elle and I were would never be the same. We were no longer boss and employee—two people with a shared mutual attraction. We were two lovers, defeated and broken—two people destroyed by one harrowing truth.
As I rounded the corner of the next street and walked up the concrete steps to the familiar red door, I hesitated. It was late. Everything told me I should probably leave and come back another time, but I needed to be there. I needed them. Fingers trembling, I gingerly lifted my arm and pressed the doorbell affixed to the wooden frame. With my heart
in my throat and an unbearable ache in my chest, I waited for what felt like an eternity. The hope that anyone might be home dwindled as I stood there, and I took a staggering step back, getting ready to turn on my heels and walk away when a light from the living room window flickered on.
My heart started to race, and as the door swung slowly open, I unconsciously held my breath.
The one man who I had grown up idolizing, and who somehow now seemed like a complete stranger, stood before me, dressed in his favorite pair of loafers and his red and black flannel robe.
He blinked twice as if he were seeing a ghost. “Owen?”
“Dad.” The word fell from my lips, full of emotion.
My mother’s voice echoed down the hall at the same time. “Honey, who is it? It’s really late—” She appeared a moment later, glancing over his shoulder, and as her weary eyes drank me in, she gasped. “Owen?”
Any remaining strength I possessed slipped, and my face contorted in pain. “Mom.”
She shoved my father aside, throwing herself at me, her arms holding me tightly as she cried my name. “Owen.”
Right there on the front porch of my childhood home, at nearly one o’clock in the morning, I fell completely apart in my mother’s loving and supportive embrace. Nothing else really registered except for the feel of my father’s strong hands as they tugged me against him, and I held on to them both, four months of pain and regret crawling up my chest and gripping me by the throat. I choked on a sob for all the time lost between us, time lost because of me.
I had thought by cutting them out of my life I’d somehow save them from hurt, that I’d be able to protect them from unnecessary pain.
I was wrong.
So incredibly wrong.
Standing in the center of my old room, I twisted around slowly, allowing my gaze to rake over the collection of things that created my life. A solid wall of bookcases sat to my left, holding every one of my favorites. To the right was another set of shelves, filled with endless awards and trophies—accolades that should have held some sort of value. At one point in time, they had.