Code Name: Disavowed (Jameson Force Security 8)

And every thrust that pushes me toward ecstasy makes my heart bleed with a longing for what we once had. At the same time, I tell myself to get ready for the fall into disappointment when this is over.

I orgasm before Ladd does, and I’m left bereft even as pleasure overtakes me. The orgasm I have is as strong as he’s ever given me, maybe even more so since it’s been so long and I’ve missed him so much. But I’m sad we didn’t topple over the edge together, to share in that bond we once had. Ladd and I were always so connected in heart, body, and mind that we often came together. We often experienced that beautiful moment at the deepest connection one can experience with another person.

I know deep in my soul he purposely held off his orgasm until I had mine. Sharing his body, taking my mind off things, making me feel better. But he’s not going to give me that very special part of him I used to have.

He’s not going to share his soul and his love with me because there is none to give.

?

When it’s over, and our heart rates have normalized, Ladd rolls onto his back. I can’t tell if he has the immediate regret that I imagine will hit him at some point, but he doesn’t make a move to scurry away.

What I wouldn’t give to curl into him, but I know the moment where he’ll give me comfort and care for what I’ve been through has passed. I can feel the wall back between us, as strong as ever.

I stay silent, not daring to move.

Not daring to say a word because even with the invisible wall between us, and the fact he’s not touching me at all, I’ll still take his nearness for as long as he’ll give it. I know when he walks out that door, I’ll never see him again.

And then it happens, way faster than I want it to.

“I should go,” he says as he starts to roll in the opposite direction.

“I came to see you ten years ago,” I blurt, lifting up onto one elbow and angling toward him.

Ladd freezes in place, neck craning to look at me, disbelief painted on his face.

“It’s true.” My words come out rushed, hoping it will spark conversation and maybe he’ll let me make amends. “You were living in Falls Church at the time. I had knocked on your door, but you weren’t home. I waited across the street in my car for you to come back. And you did.”

“Ten years ago,” he repeats slowly, I’m sure knowing exactly the time frame I’m talking about.

I nod. “You got out of the car, and then you helped a woman out of the passenger seat. She was pregnant. And that’s when I saw your wedding ring.”

Something flashes across Ladd’s face. I think it’s anger, but it’s gone so suddenly that maybe I imagined it.

“So,” I say hesitantly, feeling the thread of the connection we just had almost fully evaporate. “Did you have a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Ladd says softly.

“And what happened with you and your wife?” I press.

“What makes you think anything happened?” He’s irritated, but I don’t have the ability to stop this torture.

“You wouldn’t have slept with me if you were married,” I say with certainty. “So you’re either separated or divorced. You’re most definitely not seeing anyone, or you wouldn’t have a condom in your wallet. You’re not that type of guy.”

There’s that flash again, and it’s most definitely irritation. “You don’t know anything about me anymore. I could be that type of guy.”

I shake my head. “No. You’d never be that type of guy. At your core, you’re too honorable.”

Ladd scrubs his hand over his face, eyes flitting to the window. He’s collecting his thoughts, and I wait to see what he wants to discuss. I wait for him to ask me why I showed up at his place all those years ago.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands and glances back down at me. “I need to go. I want to get a flight back to Pittsburgh tonight.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Without another word, he moves into the bathroom and shuts the door. I scramble off the bed, pulling my clothes on. I wear them like armor and move into the main living area. I wait by the window that overlooks the parking lot. Somewhere down there, Ladd most likely has a car he’ll take to the airport to catch a flight back to his life in Pittsburgh.

I hear him come out of the bathroom, the sound of him getting dressed. I keep my eyes pinned on the parking lot.

“Greer,” he says from behind me, and I turn to see him at the edge of the short hall that leads to the door. He has car keys in hand.