Page 47 of After Care

“But you love me.” The comment stopped us both from laughing, and after a second, he squeezed my hand again. “I didn’t mean, you know, just kind of said it.”

“I know,” I said softly, letting the awkward moment linger. We couldn’t be in love, not after a few days, I reminded myself. He kissed my knuckles and turned us for the parking lot.

Next stop, we climbed down a steep rise to where the shore met the rocks. Tide pools filled with the brisk, rushing surface. I wasn’t as nimble as Tommy, so I took my time, praying I wouldn’t fall in or slip and embarrass myself. To my surprise, he was patient, never rushing me with my hesitant descent, but encouraging me with gentle praise and occasionally holding my hand as a guide. My fear of humiliation passed. We spent some time trying to find anything unusual in the shallow pools but didn’t. As explorers, we agreed we weren’t very successful.

Returning to the top of the lookout, we drove a short distance to a cove, and Tommy surprised me with a picnic lunch. Sitting on the beach, a gentle breeze blew as we ate.

“You made me a peanut butter sandwich?” I giggled.

“It was all I could do on short notice.”

“What if I was allergic to peanuts?” I questioned, teasing him.

“You aren’t. I asked Caleb.” My breath hitched at the thought that this man asked my son again for permission to take me on a date. I also noted he’d not made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but just peanut butter, which I preferred. I stared at him, drinking in the side of his scruff-lined face. How did I get so lucky to find him? Why did it take me so long to find him? How would I leave him behind?

“So, let’s say I was an explorer of sorts,” Tommy said, interrupting my thoughts. “And I went off to see the world, but not to discover things. Say it was my job to travel.” He paused, setting down his sandwich. “Would you wait for me, hypothetically?” He turned to face me and hesitant, questioning eyes looked directly at mine. A nervous expression filled his face.

“Depends,” I teased. “Am I a princess?”

“You’re the queen.” He smiled slowly, picking up his sandwich again.

“Am I married?” I lowered my voice, afraid of the thought.

“Nope.”

“Then I’d definitely wait as long as it took.” For some reason, the song I told him was my all-time favorite came to mind—‘Wait for Me’—a song he wrote as Lawson Colt in Colt45. The thought gave me pause. “Who was the song about? ‘Wait for Me’? Who did you write it for?” I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing I didn’t really want a response. It had to be another girl, possibly someone he loved a long time ago.

“No one special anymore,” he said by way of a vague answer. That gave me all the details I needed. He did love someone once upon a time. I couldn’t really complain. I’d been married twenty years. I’d loved my husband at one point as well. But things changed. People changed. David and I eventually weren’t those same two people who fell in love. I wanted to know more details about Tommy, but watching him crumple up his sandwich wrapper, I sensed the conversation was over.

“How do you feel about a drive?”

I nodded, and we stood, returning to the car. His car was a Mustang convertible. I had no idea of the year, but I didn’t care about things like that. There was only one car I’d recognize. Regardless, it was a nice ride as we wound up the curving Hawaiian roads. Tommy reached for my thigh and slowly climbed, eventually teasing me near my core.

“Watch the road,” I giggled, pressing his hand away from me. No sooner had he moved his fingers, they returned, finding their destination. He slipped under the band of my bathing suit, inside my shorts. It was an awkward angle and wasn’t accomplishing what I thought it intended.

“Open your shorts,” he commanded, keeping his eyes on the road but his hand at my heat.

“Tommy,” I hissed, uncertain we should be doing this.

“Take a towel and cover your lap, but push them down a little and open up.” I did as he demanded, pushing my shorts down my hips. His hand returned, fingers delved and I gasped. This was risky.

“Tip your head back. Close your eyes.” Again, I did as he said, letting him lead me to pleasure, but not quite over the peak. Suddenly, the car jerked right. He pulled to the side of the mainly deserted road, hit the hazard lights, and turned to me. Eyes wide under the broad daylight, he worked at my core until I clenched the door handle and the edge of my seat. I groaned as I came, startling a bird in the tree under which we parked. Panting, I turned to him.

“What was that?” I laughed, feeling carefree, spontaneous, and dangerous. He didn’t answer, but pulled back on the road, returning to our scenic drive. I reached for him, rubbing at his zipper.

“Darlin’, don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

I continued rubbing, stroking over the firm bulge that leapt under my touch. He spread his thighs a little. “Eyes on the road,” I warned.

Unzipping his shorts, I had just as much barrier as he’d had to me. He wore tight swim shorts under the outer ones, and I struggled to get at him. Freeing only the head, I leaned forward and licked. This warranted another jerk of the car. The hazard lights blinked again, and he shifted in his seat to free himself. I worked hard and fast, lapping at him, sucking deep in my haste to give him pleasure like he had done to me. It was sloppy work, at an odd angle, and I feared I couldn’t give to him what he’d given me. His hand came to the back of my head, holding me in place, and I dragged him deeper, swallowing hard, and licking the tight ridges of his length. My jaw ached, but I sucked.

“Darlin’,” he hissed, and too quickly, he shot to the back of my throat. I drew back, dragging the length of him with my tight mouth, and he stilled me with his hand. He pulsed once, and then again. Stroking down my back, his hand rested on my spine as I released him. I sat up to see his elbow set on the car door. Thick fingers rubbed at his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly terrified that I sucked, and not literally. His hand still on my spine, he rubbed upward, and turned for me. Gripping my neck, he squeezed.

“How am I going to let you go?” he said so quietly I wasn’t certain I heard him. We stared at one another for a moment before he lowered his forehead, resting it against mine.

“Maybe you could come after me,” I suggested, sensing the weight of such a heavy request. “Since I’m the queen and all, and I’ve been waiting for you, maybe you could return for me.”