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Not at nineteen.
Not at twenty-two.
And not now.
Life has pushed us apart for years. And the sad reality is, it’ll do it again.
“Tomorrow might be,” she whimpers, the hope in her voice a serrated knife in my gut.
“Tomorrow in the future.Later,” I push, trying to make her understand.
I caress her lips. “So when all of this.” I kiss her again. “Settles inside you, keep loving me, okay? Don’t let yourself hate me for hating what we’ve done.”
Tears shine in her eyes, and she nods. “I could never hate you.”
“You’ll hate me by hating yourself.”
Her chin wobbles.
“Before I kiss you, Henley,really kiss you,promise me. Vow that you won’t hate me.”
“For keeps.” She closes her eyes, letting her tears fall.
“For always.”
I don’t waste another second. Hands bracketing her jaw, I pull her mouth up to mine.
She opens up to me like a flower in full fucking bloom.
She tastes like the rain and the sun.
She tastes like the wind in our faces and second chances.
She tastes likehome.
Myhome.
The truth is, I’d give up everything if she only asked me to. I’d give up my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations. I’d let it all go for her.
But she hasn’t asked. And she likely never will.
Hands wrapped in the lapels of my jacket, she pulls me more heavily into her mouth. Needing more.
Our lips fit like they’re two halves of a whole. Carved to fit only one another.
Her tongue is warm. It’s soft but insistent as it rolls against mine with needy whimpers and impatient moans.
My feet move of their own accord, pushing her against the wall on a strangled groan. Hands at her hips, I pull at the silk of her dress, needing to touch of her skin. Needing to feel it in my palms. Grabbing the supple flesh of her ass, I squeeze.
Her lips break away from mine on a stuttered breath, and I chase her lips back down, l refusing to part.
She’s a feather in my hands, and I lift her without the slightest exertion. Fitting her against the thick line of my cock—now pushed aggressively against my pants—I crowd her again, thrusting myself against the damp scrap of material between her thighs.
“Oh, God.”
Our mouths inch apart, our eyes catching in a more intimate way.
Confident my hands have her, she opens the small bag between us, pulling a condom from the purse before dropping the bag to the ground.
