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I stayed very still and said nothing to give him space to unload.
“He says he has the money, but…” He paced, dragging a hand through his hair. “After everything he’s put Mama through, after years of me sending him money without question or expectation, he stole from them.”
“And now he’s back.”
“He’s fucking back, and he has that girl with him. Who knows what lies he’s told her. He had some bullshit line about making amends, but I know, Poppy. I just fucking know there’s something else. I just don’t know what. Every time he shows up, somebody gets hurt. You know what he said to me? See you at the house. The motherfucker is going to my house that I bought for my parents to make himself at home? I’ll fucking kill him. I will separate his head from his body, I swear to God.”
“Homicide is never the answer,” I joked, stepping closer.
“This is why I couldn’t come back. How could I leave things like this? How could I keep walking away from you? And now… I thought I could come to this town and not remember all the things I used to be. But I can’t. It’s too hard. Since we kissed, since it’s been unbearable.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you—”
“Quit saying that.”
“I complicated everything.”
I drew a breath as he stepped into me, furious and tense from brow to boot. “It was complicated before. What’s unbearable isn’t regret because—I don’t regret a single moment. What I can’t live with is knowing that moment with you was all I’ll ever have. It’s the truth of your hate for me, hate that I earned and will bear as my burden. I can’t sleep without seeing you. I can’t breathe without catching your scent. And I can’t have you. Go, Poppy. Please, I can’t stand to be near you.”
His nose was close to mine, our breaths shallow and noisy. Neither of us moved other than the heave of our chests, our bodies almost touching. And I could feel him. I could feel every inch of him. Every nerve. Every atom.
And I wanted all of them.
I didn’t know if I moved first or if it was him, but we came together with a crash and a twist, hot and seeking. Crushed to his chest, I couldn’t move, though I tried, wriggling against him, trying not to climb him like a jungle gym. Composure was gone. My legs hooked his waist, his hands under my thighs as he backed me into a pine tree. Bark nipped my back, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I hated him or that he left me. I didn’t care that he was ruining my life again. I didn’t care that my heart ached, my wound still torn open from the last time.
All I cared about was satisfying my longing for him. Not longing for a man or for sex. For him. For the way his fingertips sparked fire on my skin. The way his kiss carried a thousand kisses just like this, but decidedly not. Because with the long-buried feelings I had for him came the complications of the present and all the pain and fear and hope that came with it.
Hope. The spark of it sent a shock of fear through me. I couldn’t hope, not with him. Not for this.
I fought to catch my breath when he broke the kiss. As he unfastened his belt, I watched him, feeling that hope for one more long moment before letting it go. Because all this could be was this. The scratching of an itch, the fulfillment of desire. Nothing more.
He hooked my panties between my thighs and pulled them aside, taking my mouth as he drove into me. A cry escaped me—his hand covered the bottom half of my face so no one would hear me, his lids heavy and lust-drunk. I moaned into his palm, my body tightening with every pump of his hips. The pencil fell out of my hair, leaving it to spill down my shoulders, one naked, the strap lank on my arm and my breast exposed.
His hand slipped away from my lips, replaced by his mouth, the kiss deep and hard. My breast was his other objective, and he filled his palm with a squeeze. I arched my back, tilting my hips until his body stroked the very tip of mine. My hand clasped the back of his neck, my arm flexed, my body rising as my awareness dimmed but for the place where we joined.
I came with a rush of fire, searing my lungs, shredding my will.
Somewhere in the midst, he left me woefully empty, spending himself outside the warmth of my body that wanted him so recklessly.
But there was no burst of regret, no stepping away from each other. This time, he didn’t let me go. He kissed me, a kiss heavy with the past, hot with desire, deep with longing. When he finally broke away, it was to press his forehead to mine.
