Page 19 of Living at 40

Her eyes pop open, spearing me with their hesitancy. “I had this crazy notion that you and I were meant for each other.”

Everything in me says to pull back, walk in a circle, take a moment to collect my thoughts, and return to her, but instead, the hold I have on her neck stays firm, and my thumb strokes her cheek. This couldn’t have been true.

“What made you act that night?”

“This is so embarrassing. It doesn’t matter anymore, like you said. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

“Just tell me.” I’m wound tight, and I need to know why this beautiful woman who was once an awkward teen thought I was her forever person.

“Ben asked you to hang with me, and you didn’t complain. You just kept your arm around my neck and kept me close most of the night. You were funny. Sweet even. We went upstairs so I could use the bathroom, and you waited in an open bedroom. I thought that meant you wanted me to meet you in the room, and when I entered, I tried to kiss you. You pushed me away, and I fell on the bed.”

Slowly, I release my hold on her, pulling away and missing her skin while hating myself.

“Did I hurt you?” Jesus, I’m a fucking dick. My hands clench into fists, one tapping on the railing.

Shaking her head, she drops her eyes to my chest. “Just my feelings by what you said.”

I still can’t believe I said such a thing, especially about her. “What happened next?” I ask, still forcing my hands to keep from reaching for her neck and face while my palms itch to touch her once more. Tell her how sorry I am for being juvenile and crass when I was young.

“I ran from the room because you were laughing.”

“I laughed?” I choke. What could possibly be funny about a chick tossing herself at me? Those things never happened when I was in college. My humor lured a woman in, but I worked hard to get her to the next level—agreeing to sleep with me. Like in movies where the couple is funny in bed, girls would say I’m sweet, and I’d instantly be friend-zoned. They didn’t take me seriously.

“Bent at the waist, cackling.”

“Jesus.” I hiss, turning my head away from her. I can’t look at her. I don’t deserve her looking at me, and I’m the one embarrassed. I’m mortified. Quickly recovering myself, I turn back to her. “I’m so sorry, Autumn.”

Her breath hitches before she chews at her lower lip.

“I was a dick back then. An immature, overweight, obnoxious, probably drunk asshole, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” With her head tipping forward as I apologize, I bend my knees, tucking my body a bit so I can look up at her. “Forgive me?”

God, please forgive me.

She nods, craning away from me once more. “I do.” My hands return to their previous position, cupping her jaw and wrapping around the back of her neck.

“Look at me and tell me you forgive me.”

The setting sun reflects in her deep eyes, turning them a lighter brown speckled with gold. “I forgive you.”

Slowly, I smile and bite my lower lip. We hold each other’s gaze a moment before I speak.

“I’d like to make it up to you,” I say, still unsettled by my younger behavior.

“You don’t need to—” My thumb stops her, and we stand in this position another second.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, gazing at my thumb stroking her lips. “I promise not to push you away.”

Her eyes widen again, and the descending sun reflects in them.

“Let me rephrase,” I say, leaning forward. “Let me kiss you. Don’t push me away.” My thumb lowers to her chin, pressing her face upward as I lower for her lips. She hasn’t answered, but I don’t wait for permission.

My mouth seeks hers, connecting with the softest lips I’ve ever touched. I intend to steal only one kiss, keeping it tender as I would have done when she was still young. Only, my brain kicks in, and my heart hammers, and the next thing I know, I’ve pulled her closer to me, opened my mouth, sought her tongue, and swallowed her gasp as we deepen our connection. Her lips mold to mine, following my eagerness. Her tongue swirls against mine as if savoring every stroke. Widening our mouths, we’re hungry for more, and our heads tilt. The hand at her neck holds her in place while my fingers delve into her hair. Her breasts rub against my chest, her body melting into mine as her palms flatten on my shoulders but quickly curl around the back of my head.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter to her mouth, quickly recapturing them and drawing them back to me once more before asking. “Did you kiss like this as a kid?”

She giggles against our joined lips. “I doubt it.” Wanting to swallow that laugh, I press our mouths together again. I adjust her body, lining her backside up with the railing and devouring her more. If I don’t slow us down, I’m going to hike her up on the ledge and strip her of her clothing, but I can’t seem to stop. I promise myself I’ll only take one more minute to kiss her, but her hands slip to my chest to tell me time’s up.

Slowly, I pull back, and our eyes meet.