As she moves to straddle me, I reach over to where I left a condom on the arm of the couch. I had a feeling we’d need it when we moved from the bed, and judging by the way her body is pressing against mine and her kiss is growing hungrier, I was right.
For once, I let her have full control, taking and giving everything she needs. When it comes to sleeping with someone, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve relinquished control. It’s not in my makeup to have that happen. But right now, I give it all up. I give it to her because I know she feels like she has none—neither of us do—and I want her to have some semblance of it even if it’s nothing more than control over what we do.
I touch her everywhere, determined to feel every inch of herone last time. She devours my mouth with kiss after kiss until her movements become so frantic that there’s no way our lips can lock any further. My fingers dig into her hips, leaving bruises one last time that she’ll be able to look at for the next week to remember, while her nails slash across the skin at my back, my shoulders, and the top of my chest. We’re both desperate to leave each other with the memories, the marks, the imprint of one another.
When my name leaves her mouth one final time, I follow her over the edge, losing myself within her. I know in that moment without a shadow of doubt that I leave a piece of myself with her, and in return, she gives me a piece of her. To take, to keep, to cherish.
Because like her, I won’t ever forget this week. Not a single second of it.
Chapter 20
Liam
“Areyougonnaneedto piss?” I question Brody as I pull my headphones out of my carry on and drop into the seat beside him.
We’re just settling into our short flight home, and I’m fucking exhausted. All I want to do is lean back in my seat, close my eyes, and have a short nap so I can navigate the hour-long drive home from the airport. To do that, though, I need to make sure Brody isn’t going to need to get up and disturb me, or we need to switch seats.
Rolling my head in his direction, I find his eyes narrowed at me, his top lip curled up into a “what the fuck” expression.
“I’m taking a nap, and if you need to get up you’re going to wake me.”
“I’ll hold it.”
“Good man,” I tell him, giving him a slap on the chest. “Probably don’t fit in the thing anyway, and no one wants to see you half in and half out, taking a leak.”
He grunts in response, his attention casting down to the phone in his hand. I make myself as comfortable as I possibly can with the lack of space and hard seats, knowing it’s going to be impossible to sleep for the next twenty minutes before we take off. Being able to close my eyes feels like heaven though.
Almost.
My mind pulls up a picture of Jordan from this morning. Ourofficial goodbye at her door. The kiss neither of us wanted to end. The tears in her eyes that I wished I could wipe away. They about killed me. It felt like I had a barbell with five hundred pounds racked, sitting directly across my ribcage. My chest constricted so hard it hurt.
It hasn’t stopped aching, either. When I met everyone in the hotel lobby to head to the airport, the pain kicked up a notch when I saw her. And when she wouldn’t look at me, it got even worse. I don’t hold it against her, but it still felt shitty. The bounce in my step that I’ve had all damn week is gone, leaving behind a feeling that has zero joy in it.
It’s only been hours and I already fucking hate it.
Releasing a deep sigh, I cross my arms over my chest, adjusting in my seat as the plane remains full of noisy passengers coming on board. I try to tune them out, but then a loud, pretentious voice catches my attention causing my Spidey senses to go off in warning. The hair on my arms stands up, my muscles tightening in my shoulders and neck as my eyes pop open.
Standing at the front of the plane is Paul.
“Fuck.”
My seatbelt is off, and before Brody can question me, I’m out of my chair and jumping into the aisle, headed towards the back where Jordan and Quinn are sitting together. It takes me longer than I want because of other passengers, but finally I reach the seats right in front of them that are still unoccupied.
“Switch me seats,” I demand of Quinn without preamble. We don’t have time.
I’ve interrupted a deep conversation, and given that Quinn knows about Jordan and me, I’m willing to bet the conversation was about us. Or me. They both look up, mouths making little “O’s”, eyebrows furrowed, startled and confused.
“What?” Quinn is the first to recover, her head shaking. “No, I’m good here with Jordan.”
“This isn’t up for debate, Quinn. Paul—” I say his name as quietly as I can, glancing over my shoulder to find he’s only two rows away.
“Liam—” Jordan is about to protest, but I cut her off, though I’m not talking to her.
“Douchebag!” I greet the asshole who has stopped right before the row I’m standing in. He’s throwing invisible daggers at me, which has me shooting him the fakest friendliest smile I can muster. “How was Vegas? Fuck any good strippers?”
He answers with contempt like I figured he would. “You’re in my fucking seat.”
“This one?” I ask, pointing at the chair I’m kneeling in. “This is yours? My bad, dude. Jordan was busy telling Quinn about all the things I did to her last night. She was just about to move.”
