I glanced over. He was still wearing those jeans, but that was all. No shirt and no shoes. He stretched his legs out in front of him and propped himself up with the heel of each hand just slightly behind his back. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose, displaying his perfectly cut abs just to throw me off. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to work.
“I sat on the deck for a while,” I answered. “But yeah, mostly I was down here all day.”
“I knew you’d like it.”
“I do.”
We watched the sun slip lower and lower until it completely disappeared behind the endless sea. The breeze off the ocean turned cooler and the shoreline grew quiet except for the crashing of the waves against the sand.
“Rough day?” I asked him.
“I’ve had better.”
I could have made a biting remark about why his day had been so shitty. Several scathing comments rose up in my mind, but even just thinking them made me tired. And there was something about him tonight, something about the air that surrounded him, that told me it didn’t matter how many mean things I said because he was already saying worse things to himself. Part of me was glad. Part of me thought he deserved all those mean things and more. But there was this other part of me that felt sorry for him. In the end, it was the softer side of me that won out.
“Well, the sun will be up tomorrow and with it comes a new day. A fresh one.”
“What if the day that comes before the fresh one is so full of clouds and they cast shadows that follow you all the way into the new day?”
“Usually even on the cloudiest day, the sun will find a way to peek through at least once.”
His hand wrapped around mine. His fingers found their way in between mine and curled closed, pressing his palm against mine. My heart began to beat a little harder; nerves began to tingle throughout my body.
“I know I’ll never be able to make up for the things I’ve done,” he said. I had to lean a little closer so I would catch his words before the wind carried them away. “And I doubt I ever try. Feeling better isn’t really something I deserve, and it seems that living with those things is part of the punishment.”
I wondered if he realized he said the word living. Up until this point, he’d been adamant about the fact that he was dead.
“But when I’m around you, I feel like there might be some hope.”
My heart lodged itself in my throat. I could barely swallow past it. “Hope for what?” I asked, my voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves.
His fingers tightened around mine. “For a little more sunshine instead of just clouds.”
Oh my God, what he did to me. I felt like a dishrag that had been used to mop up far too many spills and then rung out again and again. I felt twisted and damp, like I wasn’t as clean as I was in the beginning.
He was right. There was no excuse for his actions. There was no excuse for him. But I still wanted to sit here with him. I still wanted to feel his hand hold mine. Nothing about Charming would ever be simple. And it also became quite clear that nothing was going to change the way I felt about him.
I guess the real question I had to ask myself was if I was going to feel all these things beside him or if I was going to feel them at home, alone. Because even if I walked away from him right now and didn’t see him again for a year or ten, I would still get the lightheaded, slightly shaky, fluttery feeling that washed over me when he walked into a room.
It was a choice that wouldn’t come easy. When you were so drawn to someone the way I was drawn to him, it was almost impossible to think about walking away. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it because if he wasn’t good for me, then I couldn’t stay.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“You.”
He pushed me down in the sand, his body coming over mine and blocking out the stars that glistened like jewels in the night sky above us. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured, already brushing his lips across mine. “Don’t bother to try to fight it. It’s a fight you won’t win.”
“What if I want to lose?”
He groaned and crushed his mouth over mine. His lips were hot against my wind-chilled skin. My body began to shake all over, and I reached up, curving my hand around his waist and pulling him down so our bodies were tangled together. His skin tasted salty like the ocean air and his toes were chilly as they ran up my calf. He moved his body against mine, the roughness of his jeans brushing against the bare skin on my legs. Without thought, I opened my legs for him, so he could settle even closer. The moment he did, pressure began to build in my center and he kissed me more fiercely than before.
I was going to burn up, burn up from the inside out. Every time he touched me, ran his hand up my inner thigh, or teased the skin on my stomach, it was like he lit yet another match and added it to the fire.
He murmured my name against my lips and I ran my hand along the rough stubble lining his jaw. If we didn’t slow down, he was going to take me right here.
Sleeping with him would only make things harder.
But it was hard to listen to your head when your body wanted something so badly that it shut off all thought.
