The sex was epic. Mind blowing. Cataclysmic. I had just launched off this planet when Blake took me on the beach. He owned me. That man owned my body. Every square inch. Every morsel. Every taste he wanted. It was his.
“We can do that every day when you’re in Orlando.”
“Logistics.” I breathed. “Just let me figure it out. Please,” I begged. I didn’t know if I’d ever catch my breath.
He pulled me into his arms.
“The only logistic you need to know is that you belong with me. You always have. I think there’s a tree on this island somewhere that says so.”
I giggled. “You carved that in an old water oak. It’s probably gone by now.”
“It’s not.” His voice was dark.
“Oh. I just assumed a hurricane wiped it out.”
“It’s this tree, baby. The one we just fucked on. The one that made you come even after the sex was over.”
I lost my breath.
“Are you going to stop fighting me now?” He asked. “Turn in your notice. Pack up your shit and get your ass to Florida where it belongs.”
His eyes flickered under the moonlight. “As much as I love you bossing me around in bed, because I do, it’s not the same in real life.” I saw the anger on his face. “I have a job. I’ve been completely on my own for eight years. You think you’re going to be in charge of my every move?”
“Do you want me to be?”
And that was the question. How far did I want his control to go? When I was seventeen and had given myself to him it was different. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was young and naïve. But I’d made it on my own since then. I went to journalism school and paid for it myself. I never took a cent of his dad’s money.
I sighed. “I’ll give my notice.” I held up my finger. “But I want another job first. I want to move and have something on my own.”
“Fuck, Sierra. You do have something. You have me.”
And we were back to the impasse. To the thing that kept us on separate sides of the same goal.
“I know. But can’t you see I want something too? You have football. I’m not asking you to give up being a quarterback. I’m not asking you to leave the AFA. You don’t have to quit your job. You just have to be patient.”
“I’ve waited eight fucking years for you. Damn it. Don’t do this.”
“I’m only asking for a little time. I have to get my resume together and call some contacts in Orlando. I should be able to have something in six months. My work in Dallas is really strong.”
“Six months?” And that’s when I knew he was over the talking. He was done with all of it.
There wasn’t enough moonlight on the water. There wasn’t enough sparkly champagne or romantic slow songs. He was done.
I looked up. “It’s not that long.”
He buckled his pants.
I wiggled trying to rearrange the skirt of my dress. It was full of sand.
“When you think you’ve found the love of your life again and she tells you to hold off because it’s not convenient, you start to think otherwise.”
He started walking toward the small set of trees that separated us from the reception.
“Blake, don’t go like this. Stay. Please stay.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Good luck, Sierra. I mean it. Good luck this time.”
“No.” I ran barefoot to chase him. “Just stop. Please.”