Damn his weakness.
He’d come to set her free, but he ached inside. Ached from his doctor’s visit that morning, learning he really did have MS. Ached that in the blink of an eye he could lose his license to practice medicine, his license to fly a plane, his ability to be a man, his right to have this woman’s love.
He ached for the loss of hope. He’d never be free to accept Liz’s love, never be able to offer her a future, to give her a happily-ever-after.
Perhaps on this day when he’d first learned of the definite diagnosis of his disease, he was self-pitying. Perhaps in the morning light the future wouldn’t loom so gray. But at the moment he mourned the loss of his health, his hopes for the future, his right to a life with Liz.
He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said he needed her. He did need her. He needed the healing only her touch provided. Needed to feel her arms around him, needed to hear her sweet lips saying she loved him. Needed the peace she so freely gave him so he could figure out how he was going to face the future. A future that loomed bleakly ahead like a black
hole greedily consuming everything good.
Even if just for one more night, he’d wanted to hold Liz, to be inside her, to feel her pleasure around him, to look into her eyes and see her world exploding within, and know that for the time they’d shared together his life had been good.
Yes, he was weak.
Yes, it was wrong.
But he faced an eternity of hellish loneliness.
Just the last few weeks’ taste of not being with Liz scraped his insides raw. He’d gotten so accustomed to sharing the ups and downs of his day, of sharing laughter and sadness and even the quiet moments. When shared with Liz, every instant took on meaning.
This very moment held dear meaning, held his last taste of her sweetness, his last caress of her body, his last everything.
Although it would be all too easy to find himself cursing his diseased body, he wouldn’t allow the self-pity to take over his mind, to cause him to weep in her arms. Instead he’d focus on everything good, focus on Liz, and the blessing she’d been in his life.
Making love to Liz was for him, not her, and he felt very guilty.
Sure, she’d looked content when she’d dozed off snuggled in his arms. Even now, in her sleep a satisfied smile played on her lips.
But he was a selfish jerk for being here. For clinging to something that could no longer be.
One night, he’d told himself when he’d foolishly taken her into his arms.
He’d had his night, and what a night it had been, but sunrise was only a few short hours away. He’d go before Liz woke up, go before the sun rose, but until the harsh reality of dawn came he’d hold her, breathe in her freshness, and cherish every second of what he feared would be the shortest but most precious few hours of his life.
Sparkly sunlight danced across Liz’s face, but she didn’t open her heavy eyelids. Her body felt deliciously warm inside, which seemed odd as she ached from the night’s activities. The night’s multiple activities.
Adam had been insatiable. A veritable tiger in bed. Lord, but she felt ravaged.
Thoroughly loved.
Smiling, she rolled onto her side, expecting to bump into his long, lean body.
She didn’t.
That’s when the quietness registered. No sounds of Adam breathing. No sensation of him being next to her.
Opening her eyes, only the imprint of where he’d slept remained in her bed. That and his spicy male scent.
A moment of panic raced through her, then she chided herself for her fear. He was probably in the bathroom. Or the living room. Or…he might have left.
She had to know.
Slipping out of the bed, she quickly discovered Adam wasn’t anywhere in the small house.
She dropped onto the sofa, her nose twitching at her barely touched salad from the night before. A tiny gnat landed on a wilted leaf, giving testament to the sad state of her morning.
Adam had left without waking her.