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My stomach hollows out when I realize this is goodbye. I thought we had another day—time to talk, to figure things out. I’m not going to see him again. Not anytime soon. Part of me wants to offer to come with him, but it’s just prolonging the inevitable.
A desperate, forlorn sound bubbles up as he pulls back, eyes roaming over my face. “I need you one last time.”
“Please. Yes.” I can already feel the ache in my chest, and he’s still here with me. I’m terrified of what it will be like when he’s really gone. I shove down the anxiety and focus on the moment.
He pulls my sleep shirt over my head, so it’s just a matter of unclasping his belt and unbuttoning his fly. “I’m sorry I can’t take care of you the way I want to.” His mouth covers mine again, and his kiss is full of the same desperation I feel.
I climb into his lap while he’s still fully dressed and free him from his boxer briefs.
There’s no finessing our way through this—it’s sheer desperate need driving us as I sink down and cry out from the invasion. Everything is magnified, including the sensation of having him inside me, knowing it’s the last time.
I keep our mouths fused, holding him tightly as he moves me over him, slow at first, gentle—but it doesn’t last; we grip and cling, teeth clashing, tongues warring, bodies battling as we crash into each other, taking what we both need because we’re out of time.
RJ tears his mouth from mine. “I need you to come.”
“I’m close,” I assure him.
He lifts and lowers me, faster, harder, pushing my body to the limit. The orgasm steals my breath, and I cry out, wishing the sensation were something I could hold on to.
“Lainey.” The single word is as much a demand as it is a plea. I open my eyes and focus on his face, on the torment in his eyes, on the regrets I can feel creating a hole in my heart in the form of a love I’ll never fully experience apart from these brief weeks.
He comes, eyes on mine, body shaking with his release. He kisses me, hard at first and then softer. Eventually he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly, lips pressed against my throat. He murmurs something against my skin that I don’t catch.
Fragile moments pass, and his imminent departure looms. His palms smooth up my back, tangling briefly in my hair before he finally pulls back and exhales an unsteady breath. His eyes are glassy and sad. “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“I wanted more time with you.”
“Me too. I’ll walk you out?”
“That would be good. Let me get you a shirt.”
I move off his lap, feeling the absence of him everywhere as we lose our physical connection. He tucks himself back into his pants and crosses to the closet, grabbing one of his shirts that he leaves at the cabin. He helps me into it, fastening a couple of buttons with shaking hands.
“That’s good enough—I know you’re out of time.”
He laces our fingers together, and I follow him down the hall. I slip my feet into a pair of flats and curl into him as we step outside into the near dawn. Dark clouds blanket the sky, a complement to my gloomy mood. Goose bumps rise on my legs and arms, prickling all the way to my scalp. The truck is already running, his duffel in the passenger seat.
He brushes my hair away from my face. “Lainey, I . . .” He shakes his head and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll call as soon as I’m in LA.”
“Okay.”
He pulls me against him, hugging me tightly. He kisses me one last time, a slow, sad goodbye. I’m the one who breaks the kiss first, aware that the longer this takes, the closer I get to losing it in front of him.
He cups my face in his hands. “I have so many things I needed to say to you. Things I wanted to tell you.”
I fight back a sob. “It’s okay. You can tell me later.”
“I miss you already.”
I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Me too.”
He presses his lips to mine one last time. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Drive careful.” I step back as he gets in and closes the door.
I watch as he pulls away. The window rolls down, and he waves before he turns onto the main road. I wait until his taillights disappear before I let the tears fall. And with them comes the first drop of rain.
I stand there, staring at the end of the driveway, feeling very much like I just lost my heart.
By nine a summer storm has set in, complete with lightning and thunder. I’m too sad to be scared as I pack up my things. At noon I lose power and wait for the generator to kick on, but it doesn’t. I have candles and flashlights here, so I’m relieved that I don’t have to sit in the dark through the storm, but it feels like a bad omen.
