by Jo Leigh
He bucked against her, his head snapping back as if he’d been shocked. “Babe, you can’t do that. Not if you want me to survive.”
“What if I don’t?” she whispered. “What if I want to make love to you until there’s nothing left?”
He looked into her eyes, searching for something—she wasn’t sure what. “I’d do that for you.”
She believed him. As poetic as it sounded, she knew he would go to the ends of the earth for her, take a bullet, swim the ocean. It was all there, right in the depth of his eyes. But there was also a sadness there she didn’t remember. That made her insides ache.
“Come,” he said, slipping his hands down her arms. “I’ve got wine.”
She followed him into the kitchen. He poured her a glass of Merlot, and took a drink of his own. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I ate before I came.”
“Smart girl.”
“Why did you call, Jay? What is it you want to tell me?”
He took in a great breath and let it out slowly. She couldn’t read him, at least not his eyes. His body, beautiful in worn jeans and a flannel shirt, seemed tense. Shoeless again, the toes on his right foot curled in his white sock.
“I missed you,” he said finally. “More than I wanted to.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”
She heard the clink of his glass on the counter, then his hands grasped her shoulders. “I can’t get you out of my head. Not even when I sleep. You’re in my dreams, in my thoughts. I keep thinking I see you out of the corner of my eye, but it’s not you. I just want it to be you.”
Her blood flowed and her heart beat, and she stood up on her toes until her lips touched his. With a groan, he kissed her once more, and it was familiar and thrilling—the same kiss, the kiss that would go on forever.
They touched each other all over. Both of them anxious, needy, hungry, until it wasn’t possible to stand another second. He pulled away, his lips moist and perfect. “I want to make love with you,” he whispered. “I need to make love with you.”
She nodded, and he sighed, and they walked somehow all the way across the apartment until they were in his room. She started to take off her shirt, but his hands stopped her.
He took hold of the bottom of the angora sweater and pulled it up slowly, revealing her bra, her neck, and then up her arms and off. He bent his head and kissed the tops of her breasts, his hair tickling her chin.
Then his fingers found the row of buttons on her jeans, and with surprising dexterity, undid them. He hooked his thumbs on her waistband, and lowered himself along with her jeans and panties. He kissed her tummy on the way down. His hot breath at the juncture of her thighs made her shiver. She put her hands on his shoulders to step out of her clothes, and then he took off her shoes and socks, slowly, reverently, until she was naked before him.
He kissed her all the way up—hot lips on her calf, her thigh, the hollow at her hipbone. He lingered at her breasts, unclasping her bra, then kissing, licking, sucking until she moaned and grasped his hair, guiding him to her nipple.
She trembled as he suckled, but she wanted more. She wanted him naked, and she wanted to feel his skin on her skin, his body in her body.
“Jay,” she whispered.
He stopped, not releasing her from his lips.
“Please, let me undress you.”
He lapped her nipple one last time before he stood. She shook off her bra, and didn’t care where it fell because she was already undoing the buttons of his shirt. With trembling fingers, she got to the last one, then pushed the shirt open. His chest, with a smattering of dark hair, seemed impossibly beautiful, and she kissed him all over, everywhere she could reach, while she undid his jeans.
As she eased the zipper down, her hand once again brushed his hard length, and his sharp intake of breath made her very careful not to touch it again. Yet.
She pulled down his pants, releasing him from the constraint of the denim and his underwear, and his penis stood up so hard and fine that it brushed his stomach, right under his belly button. She bent over and ran her tongue up the backside, tracing the veins, remembering his taste and his scent.
He groaned and pulled her up, and after he stepped out of his clothes, he brought her close. Her body and his touched from shoulder to knee, and the warmth was overshadowed by the banked energy. She felt as if they could light up Manhattan.
“Bed,” he whispered.
She walked with him, unwilling to let go completely. She needed to touch him—the more, the better. When they reached the bed he threw back the comforter and pulled her down underneath him.
Then they were kissing, as if they’d never kissed, as if they’d always kissed. His hot tongue thrusting, making her his own. She rubbed herself against him wantonly, loving the feel of his cock, knowing soon it would be intimately part of her.
Jay’s hand slid down her side, then slipped to the lips of her sex. She gasped as his finger entered her.
“So wet,” he said, his lips brushing hers, his breath mingling with her own. “So beautiful. I can’t stand it. I have to—”
She spread her legs in invitation, and a moment later he entered her, slowly, inch by inch, until he filled her. She wrapped her legs around his back, her arms around his neck.
She opened her eyes to stare into his, and heartbeat after heartbeat, neither of them moved. Her muscles contracted around him, and she felt him pulse inside her, but the real heat was in his gaze.
“I love you,” she said. “When you didn’t call, I nearly went insane. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, ever dreamed of. I never knew I could feel this way.”
He closed his eyes, but only for a moment. When he opened them again, he locked on to her gaze once more. “I love you,” he said. “It wasn’t in my plans. I didn’t know I was going to fall, but I did. Oh God.”
He moved inside her, pulling out until only the head was still between her lips, then he thrust back inside. “Mine,” he whispered. “Mine.” And then he couldn’t talk.
At the word, she felt the stirrings of her orgasm, and she clung to him as he branded her, as he melted into her. His hips moved faster, and the heat built to an unbearable pitch. She gasped at the first wave of her climax, and tightened her muscles, squeezing him—and that’s all it took. His head went back, he pushed inside her as deeply as he could go, and then he poured himself into her.
She trembled, tensed, came so deeply that it was from her soul, but she needed more. She took his face between her hands, brought his gaze back to hers. “Yours,” she said. “I’m yours.”
JAY KISSED HER until he couldn’t breathe. Until he’d grown soft, and his arms couldn’t hold him up anymore. Reluctantly, he slipped out of her and rolled to her side. It was a struggle, but he found the comforter and covered them both. Then he wrapped her in his arms and legs, his head and hers on the same pillow.
“I was so afraid,” she said, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear her. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Amelia—”
She touched his lips. “Wait, please.”
He nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The truth was, he still didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to come clean, for his own sake as much as hers. But how could they move forward with this between them?
He wanted to move forward. When he’d opened that door and pulled her into his arms, all his doubts had vanished. He was in love for the first time in his life. For the only time. She’d breached his defenses, knocked down his walls, and he needed her.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he knew without a doubt that it would fall apart if he didn’t confess. He would. But not here. Not yet. He didn’t want to ruin this.
Her hand glided over his chest. “I think I knew this was going to happen from the very first time you talked to me. Do you remember? In the café. You gave me a pen.”
“I remember.”
“You made me blush.”
/>
“That wasn’t very difficult.”
She grinned. “No, it wasn’t.” She kissed his chin. “I’m so grateful you saw me. That you took the time to look. No one ever had. I was lost before you. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You know me so well, better than I know myself.”
“You’re the one who did the changing. Not me. I don’t want you to forget that.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Jay memorized the feel of her. He rubbed her tummy in slow circles, sniffed her hair, got as close as he could. He had no idea if they could weather the coming storm. He hoped so.
“I’m going back to school,” he said. “I’m going for my Master’s degree in Literature.”
She smiled. “Oh, honey. That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you. Hey, maybe we’ll have some classes together. Wouldn’t that be a kick?”
“Are you majoring in Lit?”
She shook her head. “No. Ethics.”
Ethics. Jesus, that was just perfect. He smiled as the last few shards of his world crumbled around him.
AMELIA DIDN’T WANT TO MOVE. She’d never felt safer or more loved in her life. She’d never belonged anywhere as she did in Jay’s arms. But she had to get something to drink. An hour ago it had been a passing thought. Now, she was pretty much desperate.
“Honey?” she whispered, not sure if Jay was awake. His eyes had been closed for a while.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?”
He rolled to his back. “I’ll go.”
“You will not. Just stay put. I’ll be back in a second.” She got out of bed, surprised at the chill. The closest thing to a robe was Jay’s flannel shirt, which she put on before she padded out to the living room. She hurried, anxious to get back to bed. In her haste, she banged the hell out of her shin on the corner of his desk. Grimacing, she bent down to rub the spot and saw a piece of paper lying just under the desk. She pulled it out, and put it on his keyboard. She hobbled a few steps, then stopped and went back to look at the paper again.
She read the first few lines, and her blood went cold. She knew the words. She’d written them. It was a page from her journal. From the anonymous journal that she’d kept at TrueConfessions.com. How?
She read the whole thing through, telling herself this wasn’t really happening. It was a dream. A nightmare. She’d fallen asleep and…
Oh God.
She read on, trying not to panic, trying to think of some other explanation, any other explanation. But these were her words. Her fantasy. A private, intimate admission. She could hardly breathe as she realized what this meant. He’d read her journal. For how long? From the beginning? Is that why…? No wonder he knew so much about her. It couldn’t be. Jay wouldn’t. They’d just made love. He’d looked at her with such tenderness.
And yet, in a chilling way, it made so much sense. She’d been an idiot not to see it before. Her gaze went back to the page. There was no mistake. No mix-up. Jay had seduced her using her stolen diary.
She clutched his shirt closed as she struggled for control. It was like being in an earthquake. The very ground beneath her feet had shifted. Everything she’d believed about him was a lie.
Tears blinded her for a moment, and her heart beat so hard she thought she might die. She wanted to die. How could he have done that? How could he have made her think—
She had to get out. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. Humiliation like she’d never known before flooded her, making it hard to think, to move.
What an incredible fool she was. Naive, stupid, the perfect target for a con man like Jay. She’d believed him, believed in him. She’d loved him with all her heart.
She was seconds away from losing it, big time. She turned, went back to the bedroom, grabbed her clothes from the floor, and made it to the bathroom without throwing up.
Shaking violently, she somehow got dressed. Praying he was asleep, she opened the door a crack. His eyes were closed. It killed her to look at him. To know it was all a joke, a game, at her expense. The bastard. How could she possibly still want him?
She’d figure that out later. For now, she had to escape. Moving as quietly as she could, she walked through the bedroom, got her jacket and her purse, and then she scurried to the living room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Standing in the deserted hallway, she couldn’t fight the tears any longer. With great sobbing gasps she stumbled to the elevator and pressed the button, afraid he’d notice she was gone and come after her.
The elevator door opened quickly and she rushed inside, blindly pushing the buttons on the console. The doors closed, and she cried so hard she fell against the wall. Her legs lost their strength and she slid down to the floor. She huddled there, her heart shattering and shattering as the elevator came to a stop. She would have stayed there forever if she could have. But she had to get out, get home.
She struggled to her feet, wiped her eyes with the arm of her jacket and headed for the street. For a cab that would take her away. Away from him.
18
JAY WOKE to an empty bed. He glanced at the clock, surprised that it was past one. His hand moved over the space next to him, but there was no warmth. His gut tightened as he threw back the covers and headed across the room. Her clothes weren’t on the floor. She wasn’t in the bathroom.
After a quick minute to take care of business, he pulled on his jeans and went to the living room, already knowing he wouldn’t find her there. Something had happened, something to make her leave. But what?
He saw a sheet of paper on his keyboard. A note? He picked it up, and as he read it the life drained out of him. It wasn’t a note. It was a page from her journal. He’d thought he’d gotten rid of everything, but somehow he’d missed this.
Shit. Dammit to hell. He should have told her. If he hadn’t been such a coward, he would have faced the music and tried to make it easier for her.
He’d just wanted to make love to her once before he confessed. Like everything else concerning Amelia, he’d screwed this up, too.
He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. He needed to talk to her. To explain. He wondered if she’d listen.
If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t. He would tell her to go to hell.
Numb, he sank to the edge of the couch and cradled his face in his hands. This was worse than he’d ever imagined. Infinitely worse. He’d never felt so goddamn alone in his life.
AMELIA STARED at her calendar, hardly believing her eyes. It was a month and two days since that night at Jay’s. A month and two days of hell.
He’d called her and called her, until Donna had told him flat out not to call again. He’d written letter after letter, which she’d trashed without opening. He’d come to the apartment twice.
Finally, last week, his efforts had stopped. She’d gotten her point across. She’d been strong and stayed strong. So, why did it still hurt so bad?
She thought about him constantly. Had forgotten what it felt like to be happy. At first, she’d wanted to crawl back in her cave, but she couldn’t even do that. There was no comfort in hiding, no solace in invisibility. She’d changed, and for better or worse, the change was permanent.
Rather than fight it, she made it her focus. Five days after that night, she’d quit her job at the library and found a new one as a waitress at a local coffee shop. Her income went up, and with the extra money she’d added to her wardrobe. She’d studied, but not obsessively, and was thankful her grades hadn’t suffered.
Several people in her life, starting with the roommates, had commented on her strength, her determination. Kathy couldn’t believe her quick recovery, and Donna had actually said she’d like to be like Amelia. It should have felt wonderful. But nothing felt wonderful.
It was all an act. Inside, she felt crippled, broken. Her heart continued to beat, her lungs continued to breathe, her eyes continued to see, but it was
all mechanical, rote. She wasn’t there. She never seemed to be anywhere but in a strange, painful limbo.
Despite everything, knowing all she did, she couldn’t escape the fact that she still loved him. Only, she didn’t write about it anymore. No more journal, no more cyber café. No more trust. Just emptiness. Longing. Sadness as deep as the ocean.
A tap at her bedroom door pulled her out of her reverie. It was Donna.
“You don’t have to knock.”
“I know. I just didn’t want to scare you.”
“Thanks.”
The blonde entered the room, but there was something odd about her. Something she was hiding behind her back.
“What’s going on?”
Donna smiled nervously. “Well, I did something.”
“What?”
“Something you may want to shoot me for.”
Amelia stood up, panic filling her chest. She couldn’t handle another betrayal. She’d never survive it. “What did you do?”
Donna brought her hand out from behind her back. She held a stack of letters. “I kept these.”
Amelia knew they were Jay’s letters, and she resented the surge of hope that swelled in her chest. How could there be hope? There was no excuse for what he did. None in the world.
“I don’t want them.”
“Are you sure?”
Amelia nodded.
“Okay, if you really don’t, I’ll throw them away. But, Amelia…”
Donna blushed, which wasn’t at all like her. Something else was going on here. Amelia sat down on her bed, and Donna joined her, still holding the letters.
“Go on,” Amelia said. “Spit it out.”
“Okay, but this isn’t easy for me. I mean, it’s not as if I’m any good at relationships or anything. I have no business telling you this.”
“Telling me what?”
Donna exhaled. “I think what he did was wrong. But not fatally wrong.”