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What are Saxon and Sophia talking about? I know he said they aren’t dating, but for her to look at me with the flames of hell burning her raw, it’s clear that feelings are involved. He may say they’re not together, but the way they were locked in discussion with his hand pressed against her arm has me feeling physically ill.
This is petty and so insignificant in the greater scheme of things, but as I finger the silver seven around my neck—the charm Saxon actually gave me and not Sam—a wave of sorrow and possession defeats me.
I’m trying to be strong, but how does one deal with this and not question everything they thought they once knew? Saxon’s parting words were that he loved me, but after this is done, will love really prevail, or will it be the death of us both?
Needing to wash away my sins as best as I can, I hurriedly grab a change of clothes and take a quick shower. The fact Saxon’s scent lingers on my skin only highlights what I’ve done and how there is no going back, only forward. But the question is, forward to what? What is on the horizon?
As I’m brushing the snags from my hair, I can’t avoid the inevitable—if I knew then what I know now, would I have done what I did? Would I have taken this giant leap of faith, consequences be damned?
“Lucy…”
When I hear that voice, that husky, strong tenor which soothed my heartache and doubts time and time again, I know the answer is absolutely. Absolutely yes. Love is just a word…but the man standing before me—this loyal, courageous man—gives it meaning.
I meet Saxon’s eyes in the mirror, unable to look anywhere but at him. Now that it’s just us, the world can fade into the background because he is my moon, my stars, and my sun. I should be ashamed, but I’m not. How can I be when this man loves me unconditionally?
He’s epic. A true vision. His dirty blond hair is combed back, the longer strands curling at his nape. He radiates strength and owns every room he enters thanks to his larger-than-life charisma.
“I knocked,” he finally says, breaking our silence. He thinks my stillness is due to the fact I don’t want him here. But it’s taking all my willpower not to throw myself into his arms, just as I did all those months ago.
However, when he frowns, I don’t know if he’ll be as receptive and welcome me with open arms.
“I wanted to talk…to see if you’re okay,” he quickly corrects, slowly walking into my bedroom and closing the door. The room suddenly gets smaller, and I’m finding it hard to breathe. “Are you okay?”
His presence fills the space, and it also fills the missing void in my heart. His battered and bruised appearance has me remembering him accepting his punishment as if he felt he deserved every blow Sam delivered. We both feel guilty for what we did, but why does being near him feel this good?
“I’ll go… I just need to know—” he swallows, his lower lip trembling “—that you’re going to be all right.” He stands feet away, waiting for me to reply.
I’m sitting at my dresser, brush still in hand, eyes still locked with Saxon’s. I know I should speak, but I just…I don’t trust what I’ll say. Remembering the way he worshiped every inch of my flesh, the way our bodies joined together as one, I know there is only one thing I can do.
Standing slowly, I turn to face Saxon. He is a pillar of utmost strength, my forever beacon in a withering storm. I know what he’s thinking. He’s worried that what we experienced means nothing, now that Sam remembers.
Running a hand through his mussed hair, he swallows as I advance with a measured gait. “I know everything is different now, and that’s okay…All that matters to me is your happiness, and whatever happens, I want you to know that I’ll be here if you want me...” He’s completely rambling, filling in the blanks because I still haven’t said a word. “I’m sorry I unloaded all my personal shit on you. I know you need a minute to process everything, but I…” I don’t allow him to finish because sometimes, actions speak louder than words.
A startled gasp escapes him as I stand on my tippy toes and wrap my fingers around his nape. I comb over his familiar features, the very same ones ingrained into every fiber of my being. “Shh…” I whisper, placing my finger on his lips. I’m gentle, as they’re bruised, but the fleshy silk feels like heaven beneath my touch.
“Lucy…” He searches my face, frantically attempting to decode what’s going on. I put his uneasiness to rest.
“This was never going to be a love triangle. I know who I want…Iwantyou.” The confession rolls freely from my tongue. He asked if I wanted him, and well, I do. In this clusterfuck of events, it’s the only thing I’m certain of. I know what this says about my character, but denying Saxon is like denying my lungs the oxygen to breathe.
He takes a moment, processing everything I just said. “You wantme? But Sam?” he questions, his confusion clear. At this moment, I love him even more.
“But nothing. I didn’t say it would be easy, but love never is.” Being this close to him, the warmth of his body indulging mine, leaves me heady, in a drunken state of perpetual bliss.
“You still love me? Want me? After everything that just happened?” Tracing the outline of the scar on his bowed upper lip and the slope of his nose, I nod, spellbound by the potency of our unspoken promise. “I…”
“Just shut up and kiss me,” I whisper, smashing my mouth to his. And kiss me he does. The world suddenly falls into place, and the darkness fades, a sunset breaking over the horizon.
The moment he enfolds me into his embrace, I’m myself again for a few blissful minutes. Everything fades because nothing else matters but this. We kiss madly, tugging and pulling at one another, desperately trying to crawl into the other and never leave.
I’m trying to be gentle as I know he’s sore, but I just can’t stop. He’s like a fix I didn’t even know I needed. Each whip of his tongue and glide of our hungry lips soothe the ache which was bound to consume me whole.
He presses us chest to chest, his arms wrapped so tightly around my waist, I doubt he’ll ever let me go. My body weeps, wanting nothing more than to be lost in him and never found, but for now, this will have to do.
He suckles my bottom lip as his large hand cradles my cheek. He rubs two fingertips over the apple of my cheek, then, with one final kiss, he gently pulls away. I instantly miss his touch, but I know it’s time.
He nuzzles his nose with mine. “I don’t know what to say,” he confesses.
“Don’t say anything at all.” I nestle into his neck, savoring his fragrance.
