“Out of frame. Yeah. That’s how it felt for a long time after I got home.” He seems to catch himself, brow furrowing. “That’s how it feels, I mean. When I’m away from the water. Even now, taking strangers out on a dive is not the same as fulfilling an actual purpose while I’m down there. Carrying out orders.”
I graze his scalp with my fingernails, moving them in lazy circles. “When you resurface, does it feel like you forgot something?”
“Yes. That’s exactly it.” His gaze homes in on me. “Not today, though. I couldn’t have gotten further from that feeling. I had everything I needed.”
My breath gets trapped in my throat. He can’t say these things to me. How will I live with these words in my head? “I was happy to have all my limbs,” I say, trying to dispel the intensity between us. It doesn’t work, but he relents after a hard stare, leaning in to kiss behind my ear, his hand gathering the hem of my dress in a fist. Dragging it higher. Slowly.
“I know what you’re doing,” buzzes his voice against my sensitive skin.
Cool air creeps up the inside of my thighs as he exposes them, calling attention to how damp my panties already are. “What am I doing?”
“Trying to keep this light.” His warm, calloused hand glides up my inner thigh, his teeth traveling along the curve of my ear. “But there’s nothing light about us, baby. Is there?”
I shiver. “It doesn’t feel like it,” I confess.
His mouth finds mine, tempting me into a long kiss. Thorough enough to burn down all my weakened defenses, even if his hand didn’t wedge firmly against my core, palming me there, pressing down on my clit. “Then let it be heavy while we have it,” he pulls back slightly to rasp. “Okay?”
As if I could say no to anything he asks me right now. And I want to say yes. I want to throw myself into this risky emotional situation and give no thought about how I’m going to climb out. I want to feel every single thing he’s offering and damn the consequences. “Yes.”
He grips me between the legs, pressing his tongue into my mouth and licking away my moan. “Good girl.” To my absolute dismay, he trails his hand up to my hips, leaving my flesh aching and clenching. Needing him. “Tell me what a day looks like for you in Charleston.”
“Uh…” I shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable—so not happening—frowning at his smirk. “Before I left or when I go back?”
“When you go back,” he says thickly. “Leave him out of it.”
I feel the command in my womb it strikes so deep. This is not the first time Elijah has invaded a moment between us, but it is the first time since we gave in fully to the attraction. To the connection we share. “There is a gala coming up,” I say, clearing the rust from my voice. “There’s always a gala because my mother is involved in several charities, as am I. Community outreach efforts, memorial funds and landmark restoration. Funny though, all these charities seem to raise money by having thousand-dollar-per-plate dinners. We never really get our hands dirty, so to speak.”
He strums my hip with his thumb. “You sound like you want to change that.”
“I do. I…can.” Saying it out loud makes it concrete, makes it real, and while I enjoy the feeling of purpose and know most of the charities are for worthy causes, I also know I’m going to find it hard to be passionate about the same things when I go back to Charleston. “Anyway, there will be a dress fitting,” I say, and God, it sounds so foreign to the life I’ve been living for well over a month. “Then the Naomi Clemons apology tour will commence. I’ll need to say sorry to my relatives and bridesmaids. The wedding planner and catering company.” An unwanted laugh flutters in my throat. “My hand is going to cramp from writing notes.”
I leave out the most important apology I need to make. To my ex-fiancé.
Jason watches me silently. “And when the tour is over?”
Lying this way with him watching me so intently is the ultimate exposure, but I’ve felt more comfortable telling someone what I want. What I need. Is it because I’ll only be with him another week, or has he become so important to me without me noticing the trajectory we were on? “I want to keep coaching. Girls like Birdie, though. Not girls like me who had the opportunities and training from a young age.” A squeeze of my hip encourages me to keep going. “I was thinking…well, I was thinking there must be girls everywhere who would love to try competing but don’t know where to start. Or there could be money issues. Not everyone has a generous big brother.”