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January fell into hers, her entire body becoming pieces of shrapnel as she came undone. She’d never felt pleasure like that, so white-hot that it nearly took her out and scrambled her brain. Right now, all she could think about was the way he felt, pumping into her, and then the subtle roar of and rush of breath as he came hard, filling her up, her walls clenching around him over and over again as he did.
She grasped the quilt tighter as she rode out the pleasure. She didn’t even think about getting her breathing under control until she felt Tavish lean in against her, his chest heaving, his skin slick. She was shaking, the aftershocks far from letting up. He was still trembling as well.
She wanted that to last forever too, the way he leaned against her as if he needed the support even though he was twice her size. The intimacy and the vulnerability and the perfection of the moment. But of course, it couldn’t. She’d made up her mind that she needed to leave, return to her old life in Phoenix and keep her heart protected. Though part of her wondered if leaving Tavish would cause a far worse heartache than any failed relationship ever could.
She slowly moved away, only to slide under the quilt. It felt like that was too much, because she knew she couldn’t spend the night. Tavish didn’t climb under the quilt with her. He sat on the edge of the bed, a portion of the blanket draped over his lap, and caressed her hair.
He wasn’t going to ask her to stay, and not just because he’d promised. Well, maybe it was because he’d promised, but he’d done that entirely just for her.
“I can’t stay the night,” she whispered. She could barely meet his eyes, afraid of finding pain and recrimination there, but when she did, they were soft and kind and understanding. She couldn’t stay. Not after making such a point of her independence.
“No one would think anything either way.”
“I just can’t.” She leaned into his hand as he smoothed his fingers down the strands of her hair and then worked back up, massaging her scalp slightly before letting them trail down again. “But I’m looking forward to getting those letters. Or if you wanted to text me…”
“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”
January closed her eyes. She wanted to remember this moment, exactly as it was, forever. Not with the lingering reluctance to cause them both pain, but with that growing certainty that she’d come back here, for this man, when the time was right. When she had her life under control in Phoenix, when it was right for him. When they’d known each other for more than just a few days. She inhaled his scent, masculine and powerful, and the more subtle scent of herself as well. She memorized the shape of him next to her, the lines of his chest, the slope of his shoulders, the power and the kindness in his body. Memory was going to be the only thing she had left of him over the coming weeks. It was ironic, how it could both heal and cut at the same time.
What would his letters be like? His texts? Would he try to recount what they’d done together already, or would they talk of hope for a future? Either way, this night would stay with her forever. She’d never forget what it was like to be with a man and give herself over so completely. She’d never forget how, in that moment, it felt like she’d always been meant to find Tavish. He was something she didn’t know existed. Not the shifter. The kindness.
“I’m afraid to leave,” she admitted. “I’m afraid that my life is going to feel cold and empty, and that’s a horrifying thought because just a few weeks ago, it seemed perfectly fine. Maybe not everything I ever wanted, but it was fine. There wasn’t room for anything or anyone else.” Definitely not a change of heart. Was that happening already? She couldn’t stay. She just couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time. She still felt his absence like a blow, even though she hadn’t left yet.
“I know. There are other things pulling you back, though.”
“Yes, there are.” She wanted to promise that she’d come back. She wanted to give him that certainty, but the words stuck in her throat. They would feel too much like a vow, and she’d made too much of leaving already.
“Are you sure? I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s okay. This isn’t you asking me.” He was asking her silently. Just by looking at her. By his closeness. She could feel his desire and she wanted to respond to it. She wanted to never leave this bed. “You’re just asking me if I’m sure, and I am, at least right now. You have a right to ask. What we just did… it was unexpected. It could cause a shift in perception.”
“I thought about the future before,” he said, and it sounded like he’d thought well and hard about it and then some. Like he’d have a sleepless night tonight and it wouldn’t be the first. Like he’d never ached like this before, and she understood that, because she was aching too. “The thing about the future is that sometimes it feels like it’s never going to come. Sometimes it feels more like the only time we have is the present.”
“That’s how people say you should live your life. Like the only moment you have is right now because it’s all we really do have, but I don’t really believe in that. It would be hard to just live in the moment. I don’t disagree that it’s not a valuable thing to learn to do, but not planning or basing our future moves from what we’ve already learned, for better or worse, could be dangerous. It would be like walking in ignorance, and that’s no way to live either.”
“That’s very well said. I wish I could order my thoughts like that.”
She let out an embarrassed laugh. “I’m not usually so eloquent. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Maybe you have a good source of inspiration.”
She laughed again at his joke. It really was just a joke. He wasn’t saying that it was because of what they’d just did, or how earth shaking it felt. He didn’t want to scare her away, she could tell. He didn’t want to scare her so badly that she walked out of his life and never came back. She wished she could find the words to tell him that wasn’t a possibility, because she couldn’t imagine a life without him, even if a life with him seemed impossible right now.
She had to get up. If she stayed then she’d make promises, and promises should always be kept—and it was too soon for that.
All of her clothing was right there, and she slipped into it.
After that, there was just the walk out to her car.
It was painful and awkward to bring up the past, but there was something she needed to say before she left, while they were standing there under a sky that was so dark with clouds covering the curtain of night, there weren’t even any stars. The silence was so complete out in Greenacre it seemed like a vacuum.
“I’m starting to realize a lot of things about my marriage, or at least be able to put them into words. I was neverheard.What I wanted didn’t factor in very often. It was my fault because I’d never speak up. I’d convinced myself that what he wanted was more important than my own happiness and went along with whatever he suggested. Not that I was ever forced into anything or that it was so terrible. I don’t think he even knew he was doing it and it took me a long time to figure out that I wasn’t happy because I didn’t have a voice. He never tried to silence me, but now I’m all too aware of what I want always coming second.”
“You don’t have to do that anymore. But thank you for explaining that to me. It makes it more understandable, I won’t try to change your mind about Phoenix. It’s your life. It’s important. Your hopes and dreams should come first.”
It was there all over his face. His hope that maybe one day, he would be her hope and her dream. Maybe one day he’d be her desire. But until then, he would wait. He’d be patient. He’d ache and he’d write and he’d text and he’d consider her feelings above any of his own. It was all there, naked and loud between them, even though it was unsaid. He’d listen to her if she ever asked him to and he’d do it like it was an honor. He’d take in every single word she ever said.
He was generous and kind and she felt the pull of him already, tugging at her soul, before she even kissed him goodnight and slipped into her car and started the first of many miles that had to come between them.
