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She holds her breath for a moment, then her body trembles underneath me, and I feel her pussy clench around me as she shudders against my hand. I brace my palms against the mattress, gripping the sheets tightly. I bring my face down to hers and catch her mouth in a kiss, swallowing the perfect moment when she comes apart. A surge of pleasure breaks over me like a cresting wave. A moan escapes my lips when I follow, and I share it with Elowyn. A guttural moan vibrates against her lips, our breath mingling in a shared moment of surrender.
Such intensity of shared pleasure is new territory for me, and the thought lingers as I retreat to the bathroom, the touch of her still lingering on my skin. Cleaned up, I slide back into bed, pulling her close to me, our bodies fitting together as if they were designed for one another. This shared moment with Elowyn is different, significant, and something I never want to forget.
The whole thing has left me the most relaxed I’ve ever felt. I could fall asleep right now. We’re off tonight and don’t have any responsibilities. And it would feel so nice to just let go with her—wake her up in the middle of the night with my tongue on her clit. Another time, I’m so gonna do that. My eyes start to droop, and I drift into what could be the best sleep of my life.
“Do you smell smoke?” Elowyn whispers.
I ignore her and nuzzle my face deeper into the pillow. I don’t understand why she can’t just enjoy this.
Elowyn nudges me. “No. Really, Weston. Smoke. I smell smoke.”
Before I can argue with her, the smoke alarm blaring from the kitchen tears my brain in half. And now I definitely smell smoke, too.
“Son of a bitch.” I bolt out of bed, scrambling to find my jeans and throwing them on without boxers before grabbing the first t-shirt I see and thrusting my head through the neck hole. Elowyn is still yanking her clothes on by the time I’m racing out of the bedroom, cell phone in hand.
Smoke engulfs the entire kitchen, a fire blazing from the top of the stove. Elowyn’s apron caused it, sitting halfway on the counter with the other half on the stovetop. She must’ve turned it on before I distracted her—before I so carelessly tossed the apron onto the counter. I’m in a state of shock, standing in the kitchen as flames lick up the wall and touch the ceiling.
Elowyn’s frightened gasp barely registers. “Weston, we have to get out right now.”
Her hand finds mine, pulling me away from the fire and out toward the door. I follow her dumbly, stumbling out into the hallway. I don’t realize how much smoke I’ve inhaled until I’m outside, and the fresh air makes me cough so hard I worry that I might pass out. I’m still trying to suck enough air back into my lungs when I hear the sirens of the fire trucks pulling up outside and the sound of boots charging up the stairs at the end of the hall.
She stays with me in the hallway the whole time, watching firefighters enter and exit, rolling and unrolling lengths of hose. It’s at least an hour before any of them stop long enough for us to ask questions. And I don’t like the answers that I get.
Between the fire and the automatic sprinklers, the apartment is trashed. They were able to contain the blaze before it spread to any other units, and my rental insurance should cover most of the damages to my stuff, but there’s no way I’m staying in there any time soon. I just lost everything over one lapse in judgment. This is why I take things slow. This is why I don’t get involved or let myself think for a moment that I could be happy. That I could ever be enough for a woman like Elowyn. That I could bethe one.
I tried to allow myself a tiny slice of happiness today.
And ended up homeless.
Chapter Eleven
Elowyn
My heart plummets to my bare feet while I watch Weston stare at the door to his apartment like he can somehow undo the last two hours of our lives if he just concentrates hard enough. I did this. I’m like Pigpen with a dark cloud of dirt following me everywhere. Despite our bodies being tangled together just moments ago, amazing though it was, I bet he wishes he never met me. B.E. or Before Elowyn, his life was peaceful. He had a routine that he enjoyed.
The firefighters are long gone, and he will have to spend most of tomorrow taking pictures and being on hold with insurance claims adjusters. But for now, he can’t do much to improve the situation. Ever since he met me, nothing has gone right for him. Standing around in the hallway mourning what is now lost isn’t doing anyone very much good.
“Why don’t we just get away for a bit?” I question, shuffling my feet as a new wave of guilt rushes over me. If I had stayed in my own damn apartment, this never would have happened. “C’mon. Weston. I’m hungry, and I’m sure you are, too.”
He jolts when I reach over and touch his forearm. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I should probably call my mom and tell her I’ll be staying over there for a good bit of time.”
Weston flinches when he says it like someone stuck a lemon wedge in between his teeth. I can tell he doesn’t want to go there, and it certainly doesn’t make sense for him to be so far from the job. Besides, I’m more than a little convinced that this is my fault. It was my apron. I left the stove on. I’m the one who came to the apartment and pulled such a reckless little stunt.
My guilt-ridden gaze meets his. “Don’t call your mom. It would only stress her out. She doesn’t need all that. Stay at my place.”
One eyebrow raises. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I say, with more certainty in my voice than before. “I’m serious. It’s just as much my fault that all of this happened, especially after you’ve already done so much for me. It’s the least I can do. Try it for a bit. If it doesn’t work, you can go stay at Banjo’s or something. God, I can’t believe I made that joke about the fire department. I jinxed the whole day. And before this, it was perfect.”
There’s a quiet part that I’m not saying out loud. That if Weston goes home to his mother, I won’t see him as much. I’ll miss our rides to work and being able to knock on his door. But more than that, he won’t be here if Jesse decides to come back again. And then—I don’t know what I would do. Why I need him so much after so short a time lingers in the back of my mind. Am I codependent or something? One of those chicks who can’t get by without a man by her side when it feels like so much more than that?
“You need to eat something and walk around. Take your mind off of things.” I can feel his resolve breaking down bit by bit. “We could go to the mall. I’ll buy you a cinnamon roll if you come and humor me.”
His lips curl in the shadow of a smile, and after a moment’s consideration, he nods. “Alright. But you gotta know I’m more of a chocolate chip cookie kind of guy.”
I don’t tell him my other plan. That I need to get him somewhere where I can show him my thanks. Somewhere where I can buy him the gift that he deserves. Or two. Or three. And after that, maybe this river of guilt will stop raging.
Once we hit the mall, we talk and walk around until we succumb to hunger. After scarfing down some greasy food court pizza, I insist that we do at least one more lap around the stores. I wait to see if any catch his eye—any reactions to the Homegoods place or the LEGO store. Instead, he slows past the window featuring men’s clothing. The mannequin in the display is wearing a pair of nicely tailored khakis and a spruce-colored button-down. It’s nothing like the jeans and black t-shirt that I’m used to seeing him in. This is it. This is my time.
