“You’ll land on your feet, Jack. You always do.”
Oh, it was too much. Too much. He kissed her. No warning, he didn’t ask or apologize. He just did it. Pressed his lips to the soft chapped weight of hers, and when she moaned slightly, he pressed again, sliding his tongue past her teeth to lick at the sweetness of her mouth. She was stiff in his arms, but he ignored that, pulling her closer until her hands dropped and he felt her curves against chest. His body woke up with a roar.
Mine, he thought, like some kind of barbarian. My wife. My friend. Mine.
Her hands touched his waist, fisting into the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to a runaway horse.
She kissed him back, long and deep and hot and slow. Soul kisses like he’d never had. A thousand of them, over and over again. Until it wasn’t enough. He needed more. This was goodbye and he wanted all of her.
His hand slid down her back and over her stomach, the taut muscles trembling under his fingers. Taking a breath, waiting for her to push him away, he cupped the underside of her breast, but the sensation was muted beneath jacket and shirt and bra.
So he tried again, finding the heat of her flesh beneath her clothes, pushing his hand up under her shirt and the elastic at the bottom of her sports bra until he held the sweet weight of her breast.
The nipple was hard under his fingers and he brushed his thumb over it, rolling it into his hand, and she shook against him, her mouth opening on low cry that tore away the last of his control.
The barbarian was loose and he lifted her up, sliding her backward onto the open bed of the truck, tipping her back so her open thighs cradled his hips. He could feel her heat through their denim and he rocked against her, desperate to hear her gasp, to feel her arch against him, to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That when he left, she would grieve for him in all the ways he would grieve for her. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up until her body beat back against his, grinding herself against him. His entire body went electric.
“Mia,” he groaned against her lips. “My Mia, if this is goodbye—”
She went still. And it took him a second to catch on but he stopped too, his erection pushing hard and tight against the crease of her jeans. One hand up the back of her shirt curved over her shoulder, keeping her locked against him.
Please don’t tell me stop, he prayed, his open mouth against her neck, waiting for her to say something.
“Let me go,” she whispered, and he could have cursed, but he did as she asked. Slipping his hands free, patting back her clothes, and then, feeling like he was tearing off his skin, stepping away. The cold air had no effect on the inferno in his body.
But as soon as they weren’t touching, she shot away from him, jumping off the back of the truck.
She stood so still, her back to him, and he couldn’t bear it. “Mia,” he breathed, putting his hand on her shoulder.
She jerked away. “Don’t…just…give me a second.”
A second? he thought, feeling mean and turned on and sad. I’m leaving tomorrow. How many more seconds do you need?
She picked up the cap that he’d knocked off and settled it back over her head, taking her time, but when she looked up at him her eyes were deep wounds.
“I said goodbye to you once like that,” she said. “I can’t do it again.”
The downward curve of her shoulders said more to him than her words did about how painful this was for her, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her more pain.
“What if I stayed?” he blurted out and she gaped at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying I…” God, what was he talking about? All he knew was that it hurt to leave her. He didn’t want to leave her. “I’m saying what if I stayed.”
“Here?”
“It’s where you live. It’s your home.”
“You hate it here.”
“It’s growing on me.”
“Please. You’ve just gotten out of your room and you haven’t said two words to your dad.”
“I’m working on it, Mia,” he said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t totally a lie. “It’s not easy for me.”
“So, you stay and what? We…?”
“Try.” He swallowed. “Being married.”
Her eyes went wide and he talked to fill the silence. “You love me, Mia. You said it yourself.”
“The question is,” she said, slowly and carefully, as if every word were a sharp knife, an angry viper, “do you love me?”
“I…I feel something for you. I don’t know if it’s love. I, frankly, don’t have much experience with it. But if I stayed, we could find out.”