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Sad ones for what I’ve lost.
Happy ones for being in Beau’s presence again.
Angry feelings for how he purposefully played me.
The nerves from being scared and the constant feeling of being watched.
But most of all, the hopefulness of Beau loving me is too much to bear. Every ounce of strength it’s taking for him to stand in front of me, pretending to care, is a nine-inch nail through my throbbing heart.
His fingers thread through my hair, cradling my scalp. “Open your eyes.”
I shake my head. It’s impossible to look directly into his eyes without falling apart. He tightens his grip and tilts my head up. “Please.”
Anxious, I pinch my lids tighter. What does he want from me? I’m standing in quicksand and continuing to sink more into the past while praying for a future, all while understanding that will never happen.
But then I feel phantom touch of his lips. I must be dreaming. Little by little the pressure increases. My body trembles the more he kisses me gently. He whispers over my mouth, “Are you over me?” Another plush touch of his lips into mine.
The salty tears streak between our lips like white water rapids. He kisses each one away, some as they’re gliding over our lips and slipping into our mouths. Goosebumps cover my skin, even my cheeks. This is the Beau I knew. The person that showed his love in a multitude of ways. Not only through physical touch and words of love, but through his actions too.
Holding me when I cried on Mother’s Day, knowing I couldn’t reach out to her, and worse, that she didn’t want to be reminded that she had a daughter.
Or changing my bandages after I fell down half of a mountain when we were hiking. The edge of the path was rocky, and I ran to get by Beau’s side. The loose rocks collapsed underneath me. My body traveled a good fifty feet over rocks, and limbs before Beau caught up to me. He tore off his shirt, wrapping the gash that ran diagonally across my thigh.
He speaks softly over my mouth. “Are you over me, Nessa?”
Never.
ChapterEighteen
BEAU
She keeps her lids closed as she cries. Her tears come faster and faster before she quietly utters the words I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear. “I’ll never be over you.” Her eyes flutter open at the end as I lose myself in her dark green eyes.
Why did I ask? I can’t stop the chain reaction of butterfly wings flitting through my body. Adrenaline. Love. Panic. She sees the fear in my eyes, the one element you never want your adversary to see because they take advantage of your weakness. Her hands skate up my arms burning me through my long-sleeved shirt.
My mouth descends over hers and the tender kisses are replaced with heavy lips, filled with so much need I might combust. I’m being careful as if I’m walking through the desert trying to avoid land mines.
My tongue swipes through her lips, seeking entrance to her warm mouth and she opens. Her tongue moves slowly as she moans. She tastes of black raspberries from the Chambord liqueur in the French martini she drank. It makes exploring her mouth again fantastic.
Her tears drip into my mouth. “Nessa, why are you crying?” I pull an inch away so I can see her face. “Isn’t this what you want?”
“What-if this is the last time we kiss?” She pauses, chewing on her lips. “I can’t put myself through rejection when you realize I’m still the same person that you left all those years ago.”
“I shouldn’t have walked away, not last week and not when we were eighteen.” The scratch and strain in my voice surprises me. Her eyes soften around the corners and her brows knit to the center.
I’m wading through a pool of regret watching her lips quiver and the tears roll. I’ll do the butterfly stroke across an ocean for her, burning my muscles with every stroke.
A memory of Vanessa cheering for me at a swim meet in her tiny Lululemon skort and a tank skitters through my mind. Her shapely legs and lightly sun-kissed skin set my fourteen-year-old self ablaze. We were fairly PG at that age. I had touched her breasts through clothes but never skin to skin. A smile tugs at my mouth at how badly I want her skin between my teeth—and under my body.
When she doesn’t say anything, my hands fall from her face. My fingers curl into hers as I walk backward through the opened glass door. She follows me without dropping her gaze. I don’t stop in the den, instead, I turn down the hall, turning the knob to my bedroom. Her feet stall as she surveys the room and me.
“Beau, you’ve always thought I was strong, but I’m not. I won’t be able to survive if you change your mind.”
I snake my arms around her waist and pull her flush against my chest. “Loving you has never been the problem.” We make that last step, crossing the threshold inside the bedroom. Our bodies sway to some imaginary music. With a knuckle under her chin, I mumble, “It’s true.”
I tug at the belt holding her kelly-green dress together, pulling until the bow releases and half of her body is exposed. There’s one more string tied to the inside of her dress. My fingers skim along her abdomen as her skin glimmers in the moonlight. I look in her eyes for approval as I slowly pull the end of the string.
Finally, the dress falls open, and I step back, wanting to drink in every delicious detail of her body that I’ve missed for so long. Her chest heaves the longer I stare, and damn I love knowing she still wants me as much as I want her.
