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She always does that when she’s anxious.
“What is it?”
Her eyes lift to mine. “I have to tell you something.”
I squeeze her a little tighter. “You can tell me anything.”
Her smile is sad. “I know.” Her fingers still, hand curling into a fist. “I got a call yesterday from Silvertongue. They’re a company that coordinates music events all over the country. They offered me a job.”
Excitement on her behalf flashes through me. “That’s great news.”
“It involves traveling. And it’s for their West Coast venues.”
So far away.
My heart twists, but I shove the entirely selfish emotion to the side. I search her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. “Is it great news?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nods. “It is. It’s something I would love to do, and I never thought I would be given a chance like this, to have a job doing something so close to my heart. But it’s on the other side of the country.”
Stay.
The word catches in my throat. I can’t ask her to change her life for me. I can’t ask her to give up the opportunity of a lifetime—to work in music, a dream job, her heart’s desire—and instead to set down roots for me. What if she became resentful and miserable? It would be my fault.
What if I went with her? How could I ask? She told me this is a temporary fling. But surely her feelings are as involved as much as mine. Maybe I could return to my work in field botany, but I couldn’t be sure I would end up wherever she was. And if she’s traveling up and down the West Coast regularly... I try to find a path forward, but every route leads me in a circle that results in a dead end.
She deserves to live the life she wants.
I shift my head to look at her more fully. “I want you to be happy, Taylor.”
She blinks and nods. “I know.” Then she leans forward and her lips press against mine, her hands smoothing up my chest to my shoulders.
Want and fear swing through me, yanking me in opposing directions. The kiss is equal parts tender and frantic. She nips at my lip and then soothes it with her tongue, shooting lust through my body.
This woman.
I flip us over, coming between her legs and aligning our bodies with practiced ease. Keeping my eyes fixed on hers, our fingers entwined on either side of her head, I slide into her slick warmth. The urge to slam into her and take her quickly, over and over, burns through me, almost impossible to deny. But not tonight. Tonight is for worshipping.
So I proceed to do just that.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Taylor
For the first time this summer, I wake up to the sun shining and Atticus’s arms wrapped around me.
Unlike the last time we spent a full night together back in December, I don’t have the urge to sneak away. I could lie here forever, actually, drinking in the press of his skin against mine, the smell of his cologne, and the slow thump of his heart under my cheek.
Last night was incredible. Sex with Atticus is always fantastic, but it was different this time. More intense, more desperate. He worked me with his hands, with his cock, until we were both drunk on the need for release. He shoved me over the edge with the plunge of his tongue in my mouth, licking and nipping while he rode me in long strokes.
He twisted me into knots and then wrung me out to dry, then held me tenderly, his fingertips stroking against my skin in lazy circles like he never wanted to stop.
It made my chest ache.
When I told him about the job, he didn’t ask me to stay. I don’t know if I appreciate that he’s not pressuring me or if I’m pissed he didn’t try harder to keep me.
Of course he didn’t. He wants me to be happy, and he thinks this job will make me happy, and it will. Won’t it?
The thought of leaving cleaves me into pieces, but I can’t tether myself to Whitby because of a guy. Can I? What if I were to give up the job, stay here to be with him, and then we don’t work out? What then?
