Page 31 of Fight from the Heart

“My Lilac,” he says into my neck. “That scent. It just lingers.”

His words make me shiver. The endearment screams intimacy, but reality crashes into me despite our position. This is only one night.

However, twenty minutes later, after we’ve slipped down to the couch to catch our breaths, Jacob begins kissing my neck. Then my shoulder. With a hand on my arm, he turns me.

“Can’t get enough,” he says before crashing his mouth to mine again. He sits up and drags me over him, straddling his lap this time. With my back to the fire, his hands coast up my sides before his mouth takes mine again. He’s already hard and ready for a repeat, but he works my mouth until I can’t take the anticipation. My core covers him.

“Wait,” he softly says as I grind over his stiff length. He reaches around me for another packet on the floor. Quickly, he sheaths himself, and this time I guide him to me. Balancing on the precipice of him seems iconic of our situation. We shouldn’t have tipped over this edge, but we did.

And we do it again, as I slide down him, slipping him inside me. Jacob’s head tips back once before eyes meet mine.

“You’re so fucking perfect. Truly an angel.” His eyes outline my body as I rock over him, undulating with a rhythm that matches the racing of my heart. He watches me, eyes wandering over the movement of my hips, the heave of my chest, and the gasp from my lips when he taps me in a way I’m unfamiliar.

“With the fire like this, highlighting your skin. You’re a vision, Lilac. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this night.” There’s a question in his voice, along with the confusion, but it’s all a reminder this is only for tonight. This night. I don’t want to turn back time. I just want to keep taking from him.

“I feel so alive being inside you.” I slowly smile at his words as his hands skim my body. My hips respond, moving on him in a way another orgasm builds. This is crazy. And delicious. I rock on his lap, setting a pace that drives my clit over his pelvis.

“Jacob,” I whisper, a warning too quiet.

“That’s it, angel. Take from me. Break for me.” My lids close, and my head tips back as I feel the spiral swirl through my body. My thighs clench against his while my hands clutch at his shoulders. I break apart, mouth falling open to scream, and his lips capture mine, swallowing back my cries. His hips thrust upward, taking over. He grows wild once more, bucking upward while tugging me down at the hips. His mouth quickly breaks from mine.

“So good. So fucking good.” The word pours from his mouth as his head falls back and he holds me over him, jolting inside me once more. When he comes down from the high, his lids open, and he stares at me over him. One hand reaches up for my hair, swiping along my face at the hairline before brushing back the short strands.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to me, and of all the things to make me blush, it’s his words.

+ + +

We eventually sleep with me curled into his chest. I’m spent after such aggressive lovemaking, but quickly remind myself it isn’t love. It was lust in the heat of the moment, in the heat of a snowstorm.

I wake to something long and thick between my thighs. My lids flip open, and I notice Jacob watching me. The fire is out. Daylight fills the windows. The storm has passed, but the earth is a white wonderland.

With my back to the cushions and Jacob at my front, he’s been my heat source through the night, but the firmness between my legs is warmth as well.

Jacob’s fingers caress my hairline as they did last night.

“One more time,” he whispers as if asking for old times’ sake. I don’t want to think about how the bubble will burst once we leave this couch. Instead, I tip up my head and brush my lips over his. He kisses me back, long and lazy as if we have all the time in the world. Eventually breaking the kiss, he reaches blindly behind him and picks up a final packet. He covers himself, skilled at the motion, and returns between my thighs. He hitches my leg over his hip, keeping us on our sides.

Without words, he slides into me, and we quietly sigh. He rocks once before flipping me to my back, sliding over me. It’s the most vanilla position we’ve been in, and Jacob stills, balancing on his elbows. Shaky fingers brush at my hair once again.

“What are you doing to me?” he groans before rocking forward, tapping into me, and all thoughts escape me. I have no answer for him. Whatever I’m doing, he’s doing to me. I’m confused while complete. I’m concerned while comfortable.

Jacob moves slowly, no longer in the rush of last night. His eyes focus on mine, but it’s too much. I turn away first, but his hand on my face turns me back.

“Look at me,” he begs. “I’m a monster at heart, but you’re turning me into something else. I’m a creature confused at the beauty before him. How can I deserve someone like you?”

His words are too much. A tear seeps from my eye as I sense this is goodbye between us, a final act before reality strikes, and we realize what we’ve done. I have no idea how this will affect us other than to destroy the working relationship we have. We can’t go back.

Jacob continues to move, growing more intense with each thrust. “Can’t hold back. Feels too good.” His stammering comments break through the haze of his previous words. My hips tip to meet his short thrusts. I’m too in my head to get where I need to go for him.

“Lilac,” he warns, and my hands cup his face, drawing his lips down to me as I kiss him in sadness and fear. I’ll lose him once we leave this couch. I sense the loss before we’ve even moved.

“Shit,” he mutters, breaking out connected lips and stilling. He goes off inside me once more, and he holds his position, remaining on top of me. “You didn’t.”

He shifts to remove himself from me, but I catch him at his shoulder blades. My heart sinks as I accept that this is not personal. Despite our intense connection, this was just sex. It can’t be more. Jacob doesn’t want marriage. He doesn’t even date. He’s told me dating is only a means to sex. And these are ways I’m not the person for him as I want more than just sex.

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally respond to him, and his brows pinch as he looks down at me. At thirty-six, I’m reduced to my sixteen-year-old self. The girl who gave up her virginity to the wrong boy. The woman whose hopes fell on Brendan as the wrong man. I’ve picked the wrong man again, but haven’t I known it all along? Suddenly, I’m emotionally scarred by our situation when it’s been all my fault. I thought I could handle this night for what it was.

And I can’t.