He peeled off my clothes slowly, worshipping every inch of my body. When I was naked he sat up, his eyes full of hunger and desire.
“You don’t know how much I’ve pictured this.” He ran his hand across my nipple slightly and I shivered. His mouth moved to cover it. “How much I craved the taste of your nipple,” he whispered. His mouth moved lower. “I thought about how sweet you tasted, how perfect it was when you came on my tongue,” he murmured, putting his mouth on me. I held back a scream as he brought me to climax, his tongue working magic between my legs, slowly and tenderly.
He stayed there for a moment, gazing at me. His rough face was soft and full of emotion. He seemed to shake himself out of the moment and pushed himself up to undress, not taking his eyes off me the entire time. When he was on top of me, divested of his clothes he stroked my face.
“I’ve dreamed of making love to you. When I was sleeping, hugging my rifle, fearing I’d wake up with a bullet in me, it was you I pictured to get me through,” he growled, pushing inside me.
I moaned as he moved slowly, making love to me. His huge hands cradled my face and his mouth moved against mine as he slowly built me up to explode in his arms. Every inch of his hard body was touching me, his eyes locked on mine. It was beautiful, tender, and the perfect way to say goodbye. To put an end to everything between us. To get closure.
I awoke the next morning to Ian’s arms around me and I felt conflicted. Extraordinarily guilty. Like I was betraying Brock. Then I felt like I was betraying Ian by thinking about Brock. I didn’t doubt that he was probably waking up next to some club slut right now, but what I was doing was worse. There was an emotional connection with Ian. I loved him. He loved me. He wanted a future with me. Commitment. The thing was I didn’t want that anymore. I didn’t want it with Brock, either. Not right now. We were too volatile. I loved Ian. Last night was proof of that. But it wasn’t the right type of love. Forgive the cliché, but I wasn’t “in love” with him. There was something missing with us. Something I wouldn’t have missed had I not met Brock. It was the fire, the passion, the wild urgency that made me feel like bursting into flames.
I felt dirty. Like a bad person. Like a dirty whore playing two men. I needed a scarlet letter to sew onto my clothes.
I tried to creep out of bed so I wouldn’t have thoughts about one man while wrapped up in another man’s arms. No such luck.
“Morning, sweetheart.” A gravelly voice scratched my ear as arms tightened around me. I couldn’t help but melt back into his warm embrace, my self-deprecating feelings fading away.
“You should get out of here before Gwen wakes up,” I muttered, getting distracted by his mouth at my neck.
“Babe, this is the last time I’m going to feel you in my arms for a long while. Shut up and let me make the most of it.”
I admit I was a coward and let myself relax into his arms. I let his muscled arms hold me. I let us descend into a comfortable silence. For too long. I should have spent the time setting him straight about us. About what last night was. It wasn’t the prelude to Ian and Amy 2.0, complete with commitment and strings. It was closing the page on us once and for all. It was saying goodbye.
“Ian,” I started softly.
He rolled so his body was on top of mine. “Shh. Don’t say anything, babe. Don’t make any decisions about us now. I want to leave with this perfect, untarnished memory of you. It’ll get me through,” he said, drinking me in. “When I come back I’ll have time to win you over, to show you what it’ll be like. Right now I don’t. So just think. While I’m gone think about us. And know I’ll never do anything to hurt you again. I’d die first.” His eyes were intense.
His words shattered the resolve I had been so firm on moments ago. The promise of life with Ian was enticing. I knew he meant every word. He wouldn’t hurt me again, not purposefully, anyway. Life with him would be stable, safe. He’d treat me right and give me mind blowing orgasms. It wasn’t a shabby life. It just wasn’t one I was sure I wanted anymore.
He kissed me softly. “I’ve got to go get packed,” he said quietly.
My stomach dropped. No matter what conclusions I drew about us being together, bottom line was I cared about him. The thought of him going back over to the place where so many people never came back from had me feeling nauseous.
He seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m comin’ back. I promise.” He looked at me a beat more before pushing up from bed.
“You gonna come to the airport?” he asked, pulling on his tee.
I stood, wrapping my robe around me. “Fuck no,” I declared. The thought of saying goodbye to him, being around a blubbering Gwen…no, I couldn’t do that.
He nodded as if he knew this. He gave me one last look then slipped out the door. I emerged later, when he was all packed and Gwen was readying herself to take him to the airport. Her eyes had moved between the two of us as if expecting some kind of performance, but Ian had banished her to the car. She protested weakly then gave me a look before walking out the door.
Ian stared at me a moment, then crossed the room. “This is it, then,” he murmured, gripping my hips.
I nodded, not trusting my words.
“I love you, babe,” he said. He didn’t wait for a response and he kissed me with a furious intensity as I clung to him to stay upright. He pressed his head against mine, then he was gone.