by Sarah Smith
There’s an edge of intensity to his expression. It makes my mouth go dry and my heart beat faster.
This is such a couple-y thing to do, sit on the couch and indulge in a foot massage. We should know better. We do know better. But it just feels so damn good.
“Please?”
“Please what, Shay?”
His tone matches mine in softness and edge. His hand stills.
“Please can you massage me some more?”
Another moment passes with no words, just our stares connected, his fingers on my skin.
“Of course,” he says.
With his thumbs, he applies firm pressure to my instep. I wince through the release, my heart racing as he holds tighter against me.
“Like that?” His eyes are fixed on me, his voice like gravel.
I nod, unable to verbalize. Something in this massage has set fire to our boundaries, to every empty promise we made to be just friends and nothing else. I’m already aching for more.
His fingers slide to the pads of my feet; I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
He catches on. “You don’t have to hold it in.”
His words, his stare, his presence all hit an invisible release button within me. I let out a breath, then moan. Such powerful, heavenly hands he’s got.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back. I say nothing when he takes my other foot in his hand and begins to rub. This time I don’t hold it. My moan is low and soft, my breath shallow.
I want this more than anything. And I think Wes does, too.
Minutes pass, then his hands still. I peel my eyes open.
His stare captures me. “Come here.”
I climb on his lap, straddling him. My heart thuds faster by the minute. I shouldn’t be doing this. But I don’t care. I want to.
His chest heaves up. A pink flush makes its way up his throat, then his cheeks. I lean forward, pressing my lips against his. The contact is so soft; it barely counts as a kiss. But it’s exactly what I want. The hint of a kiss, soft enough to ease us back into it after months upon months of zero kisses.
He moves his lips against mine and there’s a jolt to my chest. It’s so powerful, I grip the arm of the sofa to steady myself. My chest swells and thumps, and then I freeze.
This can only lead to one thing: a reminder that I loved him once and I’m liable to love him again if I let myself get too close to him…like now.
I jerk away from him, planting my hands on his chest. No matter how many boundaries we invent, no matter hard I try, I’ll always want more from Wes. I was a fool to think otherwise.
I scoot all the way on the opposite end of the couch. He turns to me, his face twisted in confusion and worry.
“I’m sorry…did I…did I do something wrong?” he stammers.
I shake my head, crossing my arms. “No, it’s not…”
He starts to move toward me, but I stop him with a hand held up. “No.”
The struggle to understand plays out in Wes’s face and body language. He presses both hands on top of his knees. I can tell he wants to reach for me, to comfort, to soothe. But I can’t let him. Not ever again.
A second passes with neither of us speaking.
“Shay, please. Tell me what I did wrong.”
“I can’t fall for you again, Wes.”
“But—”
“I won’t work for us. It can’t. We don’t want the same things, remember?”
He opens his mouth to speak but I stop him.
“If I let myself get close to you again, I’ll fall for you.” I swallow, steadying my voice. “And when it inevitably ends, it’ll destroy me to have to get over you again.”
“Shay, can’t we—”
“I’d like to be alone,” I say, cutting him off.
He stands up and heads for the door. It closes softly behind him.
I stare ahead, too numb to do anything else, until hot tears begin to streak down my cheeks. After a while, I gaze around my apartment, taking in the meaningless shapes around me. Then I halt on something black on the floor near my desk. Wes’s backpack.
In his hurry to leave, he must have forgotten it.
I let out a breath and walk to my desk for my phone. I’ll text Remy and ask if he can come get it and give it to Wes so I don’t have to see him again.
But then I trip on the strap of the backpack. I clutch the edge of the desk to steady myself, thankful that I landed on my good foot. Glancing down, I see that the bag is half-open and something fell out when I tripped over it.
When I focus on the stray item, I freeze. It’s a foot-long strip of bright blue streamer—a decoration from the surprise birthday party I threw Wes.
Then I notice something colorful spilling out of the bag. A palm-sized chunk of papier-mâché. A second later, the image registers in my memory bank: it’s a piece of his birthday piñata. He kept it after all this time.
Memories from that day come flooding back. The shock on Wes’s face when he saw Dandy Lime decked out in superhero decorations and party favors. The tears of joy glistening in his eyes. The tender words he spoke to me in the shower after the party.
This time when the tears fall, they’re not of pain or embarrassment or agony. They’re of disbelief. Wes kept these mementos in his hiking backpack that he carried with him every day for the past six months because they meant something to him.
Because I meant something to him.
“I, uh, forgot my bag.”
I jerk my head up and see Wes standing over me.
Chapter Nineteen
In my stunned haze, I must not have heard him come back in. When he crouches down next to me, I realize what this scene must look like: me rifling through his belongings.
“I wasn’t—it’s not what it looks like,” I quickly say.
“I know.”
“I tripped over it when I was walking over to my desk and it all just spilled out, I swear.”
His hand falls on my arm. So soft, so gentle. “Shay. It’s okay.”
We both stare at the party favors I clutch in my hands.
“Why did you keep all of this?”
Wes settles next to me. I shift from my squatting position to a sitting one. He gazes at me, renewed intensity in his eyes. And something soft, something familiar, something that reminds me of those perfect months when we were together. Something just for me.
“Because they reminded me of you,” Wes says. “And how I felt about you.”
An invisible rock lodges in my throat, but I swallow around it. “How did you feel about me?”
He pauses to swallow before answering. “I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. When you were happy, I was happy. I lived to see you smile. Every day spent with you was the best day ever.”
When he stops speaking, his words linger in the air around us.
“You were everything to me, Shay. You still are.”
I shake my head, shrugging out of his hold. “Everything isn’t love.”
“I did love you, Shay. I still do.”
My ears ring in the seconds that follow his admission.
“I’ve never been in love with anyone before in my life. You’re the first,” he says. “That night when you threw my surprise party, I knew I loved you. I knew you were it for me.”
Wes loved me all the way back then? My memory flashes back to the day we broke up. This time when my throat tightens, it brings tears.
“You loved me…but you left.”
He offers a sad nod. “After my tequila drinking binge in Utah, I started seeing a counselor online. Sessions with her helped me realize that when I get scared, I run away. It’s what I’ve done my whole life.” His eyes glisten. “It’s what I did with you. But I’m not scared anymore. I know what I want.”
“What do you want?” I finally say
He glances down at the hardwood floor for a moment before connecting his stare with mine once more. “You. I want a life with you—marriage, family, kids, all that—more th
an anything.”
I blink, letting the tears fall down my cheeks. Tears glisten in his eyes too.
“For so long I was freaked out at the thought of meeting someone’s family, of going all-in in a relationship, of trying to make my own family because I didn’t have any of that growing up. I couldn’t look to my parents for guidance…my mom was gone and my dad was a disaster.” His voice trembles, evidence of the emotion that’s undoubtedly coursing through him at his confession, just like it is with me. “I left because I didn’t know how else to handle it. I’m so sorry I did that. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
He inhales, I inhale, and we pause, letting the moment of silence be our collective breather.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this when you came back?” I say.
His eyes fall to the floor for a beat before returning to my face. “I tried. But I was so nervous that I gave that terrible apology. You got upset and ran off, then you got hurt. And when I tried again, you cut me off. You said you weren’t interested in anything with me anymore.”
All our arguments and stilted conversations from the night I fell hit me like a bucket of ice water to the face. This whole time Wes felt the same way about me—he wanted the same things I wanted.
My heart thuds. Everything I’ve ever wanted him to say has come raining down over me in the past two minutes. I open my mouth to speak, to say the words trembling on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too much. I’m in sensory-emotion overload and if I try too much too soon, I may explode.
But after spending so much time skirting around our true feelings, we need to be open and honest with each other.
“This is a lot to take in, Wes.”
“I get it.” Wes takes my hand in a gentle hold. “What do you need me to do to prove to you that I mean every word?”
I open my mouth, but the words aren’t there. Because I can’t think of a single worthy objection. Yes, Wes hurt me, but he came back and apologized. He’s nursed me back to health, showing me just how much I mean to him. And he went through counseling to work out his issues—the issues that led to our breakup. He’s showing me that he’s changed and wants a future with me.
I want that too.
“Tell me,” he says. “I’ll do anything.”
“You don’t need to.” I reach for his face and turn him back to me. “I love you, Wes.”
Wes’s brow jumps at my confession. He cups my cheeks even tighter. “You still love me?”
“I never really stopped.”
I grip my hands around his wrists. Our stares connect in an unbreakable invisible line. I never, ever want to look away.
“I want you, Shay. Forever. If you can forgive me.”
My heart thuds, the pressure like a giant drum beating from within. Again, I’m in tears, but now it’s joy powering them, not uncertainty. And it’s the single greatest feeling in the entire world.
“I forgive you,” I say.
“So you’re…you’re mine again?”
“As long as you promise to be open with me like you were just now. You promise to work through any issues we have—you promise you’ll never walk out on me again?”
“Never, ever.”
“Then you’re all mine, Wes Paulsen. I want a life with you, too. Marriage, kids, family, the works.”
Wes’s face splits into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen him make. His eyes glisten with his own tears of joy. And then he pulls my mouth to his.
The contact between us this time is different from the soft and tentative kiss from minutes ago. That kiss was hesitant, shy, earthly. This kiss, with our lips and tongues moving together in heated unison, is every planet in our solar system. It’s the Milky Way galaxy mixed with every star that ever existed.
It’s the transcendent joy of having him back when I never thought it would be possible. It’s beyond every happiness in this known world. It is positively sublime.
Our hands follow the filthy rhythm set by our mouths. We’re grabbing and caressing at each other. We waste no time getting reacquainted with our bodies, even though it’s been months upon months since we’ve touched each other this way. We’ve already said everything we need to say. Now it’s time to let our bodies speak.
For just a second, Wes breaks our kiss. With his hands still cupping my face, he smiles softly. “Can we move this to your bed?”
Biting my lip, I nod. He stands and helps me up, and we take the three steps to my bed. I start to slip off my top, but he softy grabs my hands, stilling me. Again his rich brown eyes pin me. My chest tightens. I never thought he’d look at me this way again, with equal amounts of lust and adoration in his eyes. It's almost too much. I swallow, breathe, and smile.
“I missed you so damn much, Shay.”
“You have no idea how much I missed you.” I press a gentle kiss to his lips.
He traces his fingers along the hem of my shirt. “Let me?”
The slow way he lifts my top off, it’s as if he’s savoring the action. His gaze scans over every bare inch of my torso. Then he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me snug against him.
He tugs off his shirt before I can even grab at the fabric. I run my palms up his chest. My mouth waters at the hard feeling, the way his chest hair tickles my skin.
My eyes struggle to take in every line, every muscle, every freckle I missed seeing.
Wes softly grips my wrists in his hands, then leads me to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. My breath catches when I remember him pulling the same move our first night together.
Kneeling down, he pulls my yoga pants off, leaving me in nothing but cotton panties. The slightest dip hits my stomach. I glance down.
“What is it?” Wes asks as if reading my mind.
“I just…I never thought this would happen. I’m still in shock.”
He nods, a wistful look playing at the edges of his eyes. But then he unzips his pants and lets them fall to the floor.
“Good shock?”
I reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, fixating on the generous bulge I remember so well. “The best kind of shock.”
He moves above me, pressing me into the mattress, and kisses his way down the side of my neck to my breast. He spends minutes showing just how much he missed me and my body. His tongue and lips work me over, leaving me breathless. He hasn’t lost one iota of his touch. Just his mouth on my breasts leaves me cross-eyed and desperate for oxygen. I’m tugging at his hair, begging and moaning for more. And when he kisses down my stomach to my hips, my sounds take on a crazed quality.
When he settles between my legs, I hold my breath. His tongue hits me in the spot I need him most, and I gasp, taking all the air in the room with me. It’s greedy, but I can’t help it. Every hot swirl and lap is a whole new dimension of heavenly. It’s even better than I remembered. I grip the sheets with both fists as the heat warms me from my throbbing clit up my pelvis to my chest.
This shouldn’t throw me off so much. Wes was consistently spectacular at this. But after months without him, I almost forgot how good he was, how he could make my entire body quake with pleasure.
Every swirl, every lick, every taste is a reminder. He was always this good. And he always loved me.
Heat turns to flames, and I know I’m close. Wes’s fingers dig into my thighs. He hums, seeming to approve of my crazed antics. Pressure builds, the aching intensifies, and I grind harder against his mouth. My hand dives into his hair, and I pull. The growl he lets out is positively carnal. And then I break.
The explosion is fire. I’m flailing and shouting, my back in an impossible arch, hanging onto both the bed and Wes’s hair. He holds me steady with both hands around my thighs, letting me ride out my climax—just like he always did. Because he remembers me and my body, the way it moves, the way it thrashes. He never forgot.
The pleasure pulses through me, the waves weakening as the seconds pass. My chest heaves and my back falls against the bed. He climbs on top of me, and I barel
y have the strength to wrap my arms around him.
I glance up at him, my vision still hazy. “Fuck, I missed that,” I babble.
He lets out a low chuckle, then plants a soft kiss on me. “No way you missed it more than me.”
I reach down between us, feeling his steely hardness. When I glance back up at him, his eyes are shy.
“Shay, I’m so sorry, but I don’t have any, um, condoms.”
I frown at him.
“I just didn’t…” He clears his throat. “I never thought to…”
Leaning away, I roll to the side of the bed where my nightstand is, throw open the drawer, then pull out a condom.
“Good thing I’m always prepared.”
A second later, I’m back under him. He rips the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolls it on, and lines himself up with me.
And then his eyes meet mine. “I love you, Shay.”
He slides in before I can tell him that I love him too. Instead, all I can do is moan and howl at the instant pleasure. He starts slow, each thrust deliberate and firm and smooth. The sensations are almost too much, and I claw at his back and shoulders. There was always emotion behind our sex before, but this time there’s love. An all-encompassing love that’s mutual. It makes everything that much grittier, that much more vivid, that much more intense.
Every thrust is a reminder of just how far we’ve come, just how much Wes loves me.
“I love you too,” I say between pants.
My words seem to spur him on. As his eyes glaze over, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. He picks up speed, and the pleasure becomes almost too much. I reach down to rub myself as he leans up and repositions both of my ankles on his shoulders.
“Fuck, Shay. Yes. Just like that.”
I try to keep my eyes on him as long as I can, but at this angle, the pleasure borders on mind-numbing. My eyes roll to the back of my head and I swirl my hand until it hits the peak. Once more, I come undone.
This time when I flail, Wes has me by both legs, holding me steady. As the pleasure pulses through me, he holds his pace. Through my haze of ecstasy, I feel his body tense against mine. A beat later, there’s a growl and a shudder. And then we both still, our panting the only sound in this space.
