I’ll forget every thought in my head, every worry? If he thinks that, then he doesn’t know me very well at all. But maybe that’s because we haven’t been together long enough. He knows the part of me that I’ve allowed him to know. If he doesn’t even know me, why am I fighting so hard for this, for something that probably won’t work out, for something that will wreck me? If it hurts this much now, I can’t even imagine what a year or more of stolen kisses and hushed promises will feel like later.
The next thing I know, he’s pushing everything off of the table, including our plates and drinks. Food and wine spills across the floor, the glass clattering from the impact, but it doesn’t pull him from his thoughts or actions. He lays me down on the table. With his eyes locked on mine, he pushes my jeans down my legs. I wrap my fingers across the edge of the table as he makes quick work of stripping me of my clothes. I memorize the way his jaw ticks, the heat in his eyes, the way his tongue darts out and wets his thick lips, the way his biceps flex, and the way his abs and chest look between my parted legs.
I’m so caught up in memorizing every little detail that I don’t notice him freeing himself from his jeans. When he pushes into me, I suck in a loud breath of surprise and pleasure. My eyes flutter closed as he pushes deeper, harder. I let out a moan. My hands cover his hands as they clutch my hips, pulling me into his every thrust. A slow burn begins building in my lower belly. With each thrust, with each grunt, with each roll of his hips, I come a little more undone until I’m spiraling out of control.
I call out his name and moan, enjoying this last ride, this last high. When everything calms down, he picks me back up against him and sits down in a chair with me on top of him. We never part. My eyes gaze into his own, his hands holding my hips painfully hard.
“I don’t know where we’re going,” he says, lifting me up and lowering me back down on his length. “But I know where we’ve been. I know I’ve felt more with you than anyone I’ve ever been with in my entire life.” He lifts me again and lowers me, and this time, I rock against him. His jaw ticks and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“I know I’m not ready to let go,” he manages to get out, even though his body is coming undone. “I know I’m not ready for this to end.”
I’m not ready for this to end. I never will be. But it’s better to jump from a sinking ship than to drown with it. I know that. Deep down, I think he does too. He’s just not ready to admit it yet.
9
Hudson
Her eyes stay locked with mine as we ride out our last waves of passion together. When I’ve emptied myself inside of her, we both freeze. She rests her head on my shoulder and I rest mine on hers. I keep my arms locked tight around her, afraid she’ll run if I don’t keep her tied down. I’m not ready for this to end, but I don’t know how to keep it going, and I don’t know why I’m fighting so hard to keep her with me when before, I was fighting to keep her away. These last couple of weeks have done something to me, changed me in some unseen way. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know that when I come home nowadays, all I want it to see her, to talk to her, to hold her. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have her.
“I don’t want you to walk away from me, Deven,” I say as I press a kiss to her collar bone. “What we have, it’s too special to run away from. Can’t you see that?”
She pulls her head back and looks me in the eye. “I do.” She nods. “But I don’t want to be a dirty little secret anymore. And if you can’t promise me that one day I won’t be, I don’t see a point in moving on.” She stands, causing me to pull out of her. I’m cold without her.
“Deven,” I try, but she shakes her head and gathers