Be My Reason

by Samantha Christy

  But in the hallway, before I can get to the bathroom door, something catches my arm and pulls me back. I turn and am smashed up against Nate’s chest. “What do you think you are doing?” I yell at him.

  “Nothing that you aren’t, Brooklyn.”

  “I’m leaving, that’s what I’m doing.” I turn to walk away.

  He pulls me back to him and before I can protest, he takes my head in his hands and kisses me. He kisses me hard. He is claiming my mouth in a way that it has never been claimed. I’m instantly lost to the world. The music, the people around us, they all fade away and all I can feel is him and his hands on my face. He parts my lips with his tongue and when it enters my mouth and explores my own tongue, my body shivers. My insides melt like a snowflake in the summer sun.

  He tastes just like I knew he would, just like I have remembered all these years. My mouth becomes angry with desire and I suck lightly on his tongue, drawing a moan from his throat that sends pulses straight to my core.

  A door slams behind us, pulling me back into reality. What am I doing? This is wrong. We can’t do this. This will only lead to heartache. I push him away. My heart is pumping, my adrenaline flowing. I do the only thing I can think of that will end this.

  I slap him.

  Then I turn around and go into the ladies room.

  I sit on the closed toilet and try to come up with excuses to leave this place. I can’t stay here. I can’t watch him with another woman knowing I can’t have him. I pull myself together and re-join my foursome who is now at the bar. I’m about to tell them I need to leave when the bartender brings a tray of shots. I contemplate them for a minute before I lift one to my lips. It burns when it goes down, numbing my throat along the way.

  Numb. That will work. I grab another shot. Then I order more.

  I don’t dance with Scott again. I don’t want to hurt Nate any more than I have. I only want him to get the picture and move on. Nate, however, doesn’t seem to be on the same page—the page about not hurting me—because right now, he is kissing the woman with the throaty, sexy laugh. He is kissing her with the very same lips that minutes ago were on mine. And he is watching me while he does it.

  Then, just to add insult to injury, he whispers in her ear. She smiles, turns to pick up her bag and then they get up and walk out of the bar. My heart flops out of my chest and hits the floor. I sit and watch it get kicked around by people walking past me. A tear slips down my face. I quickly wipe it away, but not before Kaitlyn notices.

  “Bastard,” she whispers in my ear. “Lyn, I’m sorry, I really didn’t think it was going to happen like this. This is all my fault.”

  “Get me out of here,” I beg her.

  It takes a while to get home—something about Scott having to go check on his sister. I don’t even care right now that I’m slumped against the car door, silently crying. Kaitlyn has explained what happened in the nicest possible way and the guys were both very understanding. Scott even asked me if he should go kick his ass.

  By the time they drop me off, at least an hour has passed. I see Nate’s truck in the lot behind the bakery. I look around for another car. I don’t see one, but that just means she could have ridden with him. I contemplate sleeping in the bakery kitchen but I can’t think of anything to use as a bed.

  I’m shaking as I put the key into the lock of the apartment.

  Please be alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I try to make a lot of noise as I enter the apartment. What if they are having sex on the sofa? Oh my God, please don’t be having sex on the sofa. Or in the bedroom. Or anywhere.

  I’m the one that started this mess. It is my fault this happened. Why didn’t I let things keep on going like they were? Why did I have to go and mess things up? We could have simply been friends. I’m such an idiot.

  The apartment is fairly dark. Only the kitchen light is on, sending shadows down the hallway. I brace myself for what I will see when I come around the corner to the living room. But then I see that it is just Nate. I look around quickly to make sure nobody else is here. He is sitting there holding a beer. He hears me come in but he doesn’t look at me. He looks behind me.

  He thinks I’ve brought someone with me.

  Relief washes over me. Relief washes over him.

  He puts down the beer and leans forward so that his elbows are resting on his knees. Then he yells, “What the fuck was that all about, Brooklyn?”

  “Me?” I yell back. “You are the one that kissed that skank and then left with her.” I look around and wave my hand at the empty apartment. “What, are you already done with her?”

  He stands up and looks pissed. “Unbelievable!” He runs his hand through his hair. “You are the one who went on a date. What do you care what I do and who the hell I do it with?”

  “Oh, so you aren’t denying that you brought her back here. I knew you didn’t change. You go and sleep with the first girl you see at the bar.”

  “You slapped me, Brooklyn!” He kicks the couch with the heel of his foot. “I kissed you and you slapped me. You have no say in what I do if you don’t want me.”

  He is right. I know he is right. But it doesn’t change the way my heart hurts right now. He brought a woman back here, to our apartment. The one we share and laugh at movies in. The one where I sneak into his room and smell his pillow and the one in which he steals kisses when he thinks I’m asleep. Why did he have to bring her here?

  “At least take your whores somewhere else,” I say.

  “I didn’t bring her back here, Brooklyn!” he says in exasperation. “I didn’t bring her anywhere. We said goodbye in the parking lot.”

  “But you kissed her. Right after you kissed me. Did you tell her that? Did you tell her that you kissed someone else two minutes before you put your lips on hers?”

  “God, Brooklyn. Did you see the way you were dancing with that guy? You were practically having sex with him while everyone was watching. Don’t you think you are kind of a hypocrite for calling me out on a kiss?”

  “I was only dancing with him that way because you had your hands all over Skanky at the bar.”

  He laughs. “See? What is your problem? You want me. You were jealous. Why don’t you admit it and go out with me?”

  “What? You are crazy. I do not want you. You were the one who kissed me, remember?”

  “Maybe it started out that way, but you didn’t seem to mind shoving your tongue into my mouth now did you?”

  I pace the floor behind the couch. “I had been drinking and you took advantage. As soon as I realized what was happening, I slapped you. Or did you forget that part?”

  “As soon as you realized, my ass. Brooklyn, you were sucking off my tongue. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. Why don’t you stop hiding behind your dead fiancé and admit it already?”

  Oh, he did not just say that.

  “You asshole!” I yell. I pick up a pillow and throw it at him. “This has nothing to do with Michael.”

  “This has everything to do with him. He died. You loved him and he died.” He takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling. “But you didn’t die. You are still here. Why don’t you start acting like it?”

  “You don’t know anything about me.” I point at him. “You think that a one-night stand ten years ago and a couple of weeks of watching movies together makes you an expert?”

  “God, woman, you are driving me fucking crazy—”

  “I’m not finished!” I walk up to him and put my finger in his chest. “You are the hypocrite, Nate. You are the one who got cheated on and then got a stupid tattoo because you were broken. You know what it’s like to be broken and yet you sit here and tell me not to be.”

  We are both red in the face, breathing heavily and staring daggers at each other. And then, just like that, we lean forward and our lips crash together. We kiss so hard that I think my lips are going to bruise. He sucks on my lower lip, I lick his upper one. Then our tongues entwine as we explore each
other’s mouths. We kiss until we can no longer breathe without breaking apart.

  He takes a breath, but he doesn’t allow his lips to part with my skin. He trails kisses from the corner of my mouth down along my neck and up to that spot behind my ear. That same spot he found so long ago in the front seat of his pickup truck. He kisses me softly there. Then he licks me and blows a cool stream of air over it. “Brooklyn, you taste so good.”

  “Mmmm.” My head falls back, giving him better access to my neck as he continues the trail of kisses until he covers every inch of skin from ear to ear. My skin tingles everywhere his lips have been. His hands are grabbing my hair, my hips, my shoulders, my back. They are wandering, touching, and squeezing like he can’t get enough of me; like he needs to touch every part of me all at once.

  I run my hands up his arms, around his broad shoulders, and over his back. I tug on his hair and a moan escapes him. He tries to pull away slightly, to look at me. But I don’t let him. I am afraid if we break the spell, I will run away and at this moment I don’t want to run. I want to take in every part of him, every touch, every feeling and I don’t want to think. I don’t want to think about what will happen after. What will happen next. I just want here and now.

  He grabs my hips and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him and he holds me up by my backside. My skirt rides up and my panties are all that stand between me and the fly of his jeans. The friction that results from us rubbing together is about enough to make me come.

  It has been so long. This feels so good. I can feel his erection growing large and pressing into me through the material of his pants. He leans down and dips his tongue into my cleavage, licking his way back up to my neck, sending sparks shooting down to my center. He runs his mouth over my breast and takes my nipple into his mouth, right through the fabric of my thin top and lace bra. I instantly pebble up beneath his touch.

  Since his hands are still busy holding me up, I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head. Then I quickly undo the clasp of my bra and let it fall down my arms onto the floor. He looks at my breasts and then back up at my face. “Brooklyn, you are so beautiful.” He leans down and takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently then swirling his tongue around and around. Then he does the same thing to the other one.

  “That feels so good,” I whisper into his hair.

  He walks me over to the counter and sets me down on it, all the while kissing and sucking my lips. He swipes my lip with his tongue and again, I open for him. I take his tongue in my mouth and suck on it drawing more moans from his throat.

  He pushes my panties aside. I know they are drenched. I can feel how wet they are. He slides a finger inside me with a hitch of his breath. “Brooklyn, you are so wet.”

  Oh, that feels good. I almost forgot what it’s like to have a man’s hands on me—in me. He puts another finger inside and yet another on my clit. He rubs it in circles and I can feel the tingling start in my belly. He is kissing my neck, working his way down to my breasts again and I feel like I will explode if I don’t come soon. He lowers himself to his knees and puts his mouth on me. “Oh, God,” I say, gasping for air.

  His fingers are slowly working in and out of me as his tongue circles my sweet spot, licking and gently sucking, pushing me towards the edge of a cliff I so desperately want to fall over. “Oh, Nate . . . oh, yes . . . please,” I whimper. Everything tightens and I clench my thighs around his face as waves cascade through me. I cry out in agonizing pleasure when my orgasm takes over my body. As I ride out the lingering pulses, I’m thankful that he is still holding my legs, or I’d fall right off the counter.

  Nate stands up, looks at me and says, “God, Brooklyn, you taste incredible. I’ve dreamed for years about doing that to you.” A blush sweeps across my face as he lifts me up and carries me to his bedroom. I am still riding in the afterglow and yet my body is screaming for more. Before he has me on the bed I am pulling at the hem of his shirt.

  He sets me down and lifts his shirt over his head. I instantly have my hands on him, wandering them over his pecs, his strong shoulders and his toned arms. I reach for the button on his jeans and watch his face as I slowly zip down the fly. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

  He quickly removes his jeans and boxer briefs in one movement and then he is standing gloriously naked in front of me. I stare, shamelessly, at his manhood. I can’t believe my boldness. I admire his six-pack abs and that happy trail that leads to the very thing I want to have in my hands.

  I reach out to touch him. He moans and I close my eyes at the heady feeling I get holding his velvety steel rod in my hands, knowing that I can elicit this sound from him. I start to move my hand up and down, but after a few strokes, he moves it away and says, “Brooklyn, you better stop that or this will be over very quickly.”

  He slides me back on the bed and removes my skirt. He smiles at me, then he bites his lip and rips my panties from my body. Actually rips them in two. “Oh!” I exclaim. That was hot.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he says, kissing his way up my body.

  I giggle.

  “That is a wonderful sound,” he whispers in my ear.

  He kisses me again, softer this time; not so hurried; not so demanding. Slowly and deliberately, he kisses across my lips, down my neck and over my breasts. He takes turns with each nipple, sucking them gently. His hand occupies the nipple that is not in his mouth. He is tugging, twisting and pulling until the sensation starts building again.

  “Nate, please . . . ,” I beg, aching to be filled by him.

  He opens the drawer in his night stand and pulls out a condom. I try to take it from him but he stops me. “It’s been a while, Brooklyn. If you put this on me, I might come on the spot.”

  Oh. Just how long, I wonder. I mean, it’s been over two years for me and that seems like forever. With everything I know about guys—and Nate in particular—a while is more than likely a few weeks; maybe even a few months.

  “Define a while,” I ask through panted breaths.

  “Well . . . how long has it been since I saw you at the convention?”

  What?

  Before I can get a word out, he thrusts into me, hard and deep. He buries himself in me completely and stills. “God, you are so tight, Brooklyn. You feel amazing.” He starts to move. Slowly at first, then he increases the pace. My hips lift off the bed and I meet him thrust for thrust. We are moving together, a passionate dance of tangled legs and wandering hands. I reach around and stroke his sculpted ass, making him moan. Then he grabs my hands in his and places them on either side of my head, holding me down, captive to his heavy body.

  He shifts position putting himself at an angle and, oh God, he hits a spot inside me that has white-hot pleasure shooting through my body. I start to tremble, the sensation building quickly. He is breathing harder, more erratic and I can tell he is getting close. “You feel so good . . . oh, baby,” he says, panting.

  His words are my undoing. “Oh yes . . . Nate . . . yes!” I yell, as my world spins and my insides tighten and spasm around his hard length. He buries himself fully inside my quivering sex. He stills and then a deep, growling sound escapes him as he shakes with his own release.

  We lie, still tangled up and breathing heavily into each other as we come down from our high. I have never experienced such an intense, mind-blowing orgasm as the one he just gave me. “That was incredible,” he says.

  I lift my head and smile up at him. “Mmm hmm.” It’s all I can manage to say.

  Once I have my breathing back under control, I remember what he said about not being with anyone since he saw me at the convention. “Why haven’t you slept with anyone in two years?”

  “I told you I was going to change.” He props up on an elbow and plays with a piece of my hair. “I didn’t plan on remaining celibate all that time. I knew you were engaged and that I should move on. But every time I dated a woman, I realized I didn’t want to sleep with her.” He tucks
the piece of hair behind my ear and plants a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. “None of them were you. Not even close. And this whole time, I assumed you were only engaged and I guess I thought that until I knew you were married, there still might be hope.”

  Hope . . . I contemplate the word that has become so foreign to me while he rubs those little circles on my hips until I fall asleep.

  When I wake up, I’m beside him in his bed, still draped over his chest. I watch him sleep. He is gorgeous. I can’t believe I am waking up next to him. I trace my eyes over his still-naked body and take him in. Last night was amazing. I never thought making love could be so . . . profound.

  I look at this man, this man who I loved when I was a child, this man who has been to hell and back and yet he is still willing to risk everything. He never stopped being the man of my dreams, even when I was with another. He was the one I was supposed to be with, end up with, grow old with. It is his voice I hear in my head when I’m sad. It is his hands that I want on my body. And it is his heart I want beating with mine. My own heart skips a beat.

  I love him.

  My eyes grow wide. I gently untangle myself from him and then give him a kiss on the cheek. One last kiss. I want to remember him like this forever. I quietly pad out of the room.

  Quickly, I gather up some clothes and get my purse. Then I write him a note before I leave.

  I turn back once to look at his door before I place the note on the table. The note that has only two words on it, along with some of my tears.

  I’m sorry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I’ve been driving around for hours and the sun has started to rise. I wonder if he woke up yet to find me gone. I wonder how much he will hate me when he does.