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“Don’t you remember how good it felt when we kissed?” He asks.
Oh, how I remember. How I have dreamed of it. How I’ve tasted it, measured everything by it.
And just like when I was a girl, I can’t deny him anything. And our time apart has only amplified our feelings.
The tips of our noses rub against each other as I nod.
He cradles my head and brings my mouth to his.
The touch is electric. It sizzles. And our sharp gasps are synchronized.
My lips quiver as his brush back and forth across them and a wildfire of gooseflesh covers my entire body.
When his tongue, hot and wet and so fucking delicious, sweeps across my bottom lip I’m transported.
To a place where he and I are together. Without parents interfering, without fucked up timing. Without heartbroken nights that made me careless. Without anything but my best friend, my lover, the man I would have followed anywhere he’d asked me to.
It was one summer, but it had been the most wonderful, unexpected interlude in the shit show that had been my life.
I let my chest press against his and wrap my hand around his neck and the kiss deepens.
His tongue sweeps inside my mouth and tangles with mine. He licks and sucks and reverently, lovingly reminds me of everything I’ve missed. This is the most perfect kiss. Because this is the most perfect man. Even in the ways that we are flawed, we are each other’s perfects.
His hand drifts down my shoulder and he cups my breast and his thumb sweeps my nipple. His fingers twist and fist the hair at the nape of my neck, lips skid down my throat, his teeth and tongue working in beautiful concert – nipping and then soothing.
I am unraveling. I’m approaching a place I shouldn’t be going. The warning bells start to ring. This is wrong. And, I won’r ruin my chance at having the life I always wanted.
Not when the last time I let him close enough, he decimated my heart.
There’s a loud crash in the hallway and I yank my mouth off his and jump out of his lap. His fingers circle my wrist and he yanks me back.
“No. Not yet,” he says and his lips press to mine again
“Remi. No. Please… let’s not. I feel it, too. But… no.”
I put a hand over my still flat stomach.
He lets go of my wrist. The light in his eyes cool and he drops his head, and shakes it.
When he looks up at me again his eyes are clear. Like he’s dropped a mask over the raging emotions that had nearly drowned us a few minutes ago.
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not the man I was raised to be.”
Hearing him say he’s sorry, even though I know I should be too, stings.
“It’s just seeing you… just everything makes me forget myself.”
“It’s okay. Nostalgia and all.” I say lamely.
“And, I know how much you like kissing me.” He winks and flashes me a grin. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but I can see he’s trying. So I smile back. And when I do, he nods his head as if accepting something and stands up.
“So... friends?” he asks and watches me
“We’ve always been. And will always be.”
When I leave thirty minutes later, I feel better. I have Remi back in my life and I’ve made the right choice. I’m going to be somebody’s mother. Someone who didn’t ask to be born and I want to do right by him or her. I won’t put a child through what I went through. Not even if it means having to settle for friendship with the man I love.
19
