by T. Torrest
But we both knew damn well this wasn’t the completion of anything. It was only just beginning. Again.
We were attached from shoulders to toes, our faces turned toward one another, only far enough away for him to train his focus upon my aching lips, an inch from his own as we breathed heavily against each other. The rest of my body was aching as well, my heart threatening to bust clear out of my chest. The feel of him against me causing heartbreaking memories to tumble over one another, to spill forth like water released from a dam.
He lifted his gaze to my eyes, and I could see the agony play out on his face as well. We both knew that this yearning could never be fulfilled, this craving could never be satisfied. The hope that had been repressed for years, unknowingly tempered during our time apart, suddenly brought back to the surface in the most unexpected way to torture us once again.
We stood there like that for an eternity; his beautiful cobalt eyes boring into mine, his gorgeous full lips just an inch from my mouth, both of us panting rapidly, his breath mingling with mine. I inhaled his sweet, clean scent, and it filled my lungs, which were heaving severely against his hard chest. A very rigid reminder was pressed against my hip, pushing insistently against me, leaving no room for doubt about what Trip was feeling.
Finally, he broke the stand-off when he brushed my face with his cheek, quietly admitting the next words into my ear, his voice a hypnotic caress, a silk-over-gravel plea. “I need this, Layla. I need you. Help me to remember, Lay. Help me to remember us.”
He started to pepper my jawline with soft kisses, and even if my hands were free, I don’t know that I could have stopped him. He pulled back to check my reaction, hoping to find something written in my eyes, which surprisingly, hadn’t rolled to the back of my head.
I was sparring with my conscience, a fiancé who fought for attention in my warring thoughts. Even through the guilt, I found myself trying to banish Devin’s image from my mind, tried to keep him far, far away from whatever was happening here. I had a flash of his face, a split-second reminder of the real world that invaded the space between Trip and me. What kind of person would I be to let this continue? The thought must have flickered across my face.
I could feel the aching in Trip’s voice when he rasped, “No, no, no, don’t... Don’t ask me to stop, Layla, I can’t do it.” He tried to persuade me with his broken eyes before dropping his head in disbelieving defeat. He fired the only weapon left in his arsenal, a childlike attempt at good manners in order to plead his case. “My God, just... please.” He kissed my neck again. “Please, Layla.”
It was the “please” that did me in. The word was like a confession, a prayer, a benediction. I felt my defenses falling away, my arguments disappearing into vapor. My mind started to justify his nearness, the hold I allowed him over my existence. This beautiful man-boy that held my heart in his memories, who claimed my soul with his smile. I knew that if I kept looking into those deadly eyes, I’d sink into their infinite depths, lost forever. And something in my brain, in my heart, allowed that to be okay.
The fact was, I’d already kissed him in the hotel weeks ago. What had been done couldn’t be undone. Would it be so harmful, would it be so wrong to just kiss him again? Just to say goodbye. Just once. Once more.
I licked my lips, and the subconscious gesture must have served as an invitation. His words were the final attack that broke through my defenses. “I’m going to kiss you now. And when I do, you’re going to kiss me back.”
And then suddenly, there were no more words at all, because his lips were on mine.
Oh, dear God.
He worshipped me with his mouth, that sweet, delicious mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against my own, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.
He still held my wrists pinned to the wall, which was a good thing, because my knees had gone weak and I would have melted into the floorboards without his support. He pressed himself full-length against me, his body threatening to imprint itself on mine, my back leaving an impression in the plaster.
The familiar moan stirring in his throat turned me into liquid fire as I wrenched my arms free from his grasp and twined my fingers in his hair.
I was lost.
And I was kissing him back.
His newly freed hands gripped at his shoulder blades, ripping the shirt from his back—ohsweetjesus, Trip shirtless, it was my kryptonite—and made quick work of the buttons of my blouse, before he slipped his fingers across my ribcage, his thumb brushing along the edge of my bra. I smashed my body against that smooth, beautiful, rock-hard chest, devouring his arms, shoulders, neck with my hands, the incredible sensation of our skin in such intimate contact, our mouths opening against one another.
I could have kissed that man forever.
My body thrummed as his sweet, full, insistent lips positively claimed me, his low moaning reverberating throughout my insides. His tongue teasing against mine, his arms crushing my body to his. How could we have denied ourselves this for so many years? How did I live without this overwhelming passion in my life? There was nothing that could compare to kissing Trip. Nothing in the world.
He slid his hands down my hips, curving over to cup my backside, lifting me up and smashing me against the wall again, the framed picture knocking askew on its hook, the side table rattling the bowl that held my keys.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, crossing them against the small of his back, felt the insistent force of his hardened body pressing against me—ohmyGOD—his mouth open against mine; demolishing me, wanting me, threatening to smother me with his animal need.
And then… he started to move.
At first, he was just using his body to keep me pinned against the wall. But slowly, deliberately, his hips started in with a purposeful rhythm, leading me down a road I had no intention of travelling.
“Trip…” I said warily, still thinking I could control the situation, feebly attempting to defuse the both of us before things went too far.
He shook his head, denying me. “Don’t say it, Lay. Don’t. Because I’m not stopping this. I need to be inside you more than I need to breathe right now. But if we can’t do that, if this is all we have… I’m taking it. I’m taking every last bit of you you’re willing to give.”
And that was it. That right there was the line drawn in the sand, and I knew it. If I’d been lying to myself about not crossing any boundaries before, surely there was no denying it now. I could have chosen not to cross it, but my brain was no longer calling the shots as his mouth opened against my neck, kissing and licking and biting, his hands at my ribcage, too afraid to explore further, too far gone not to. They wrapped underneath to cup my ass, pulling me tighter against the insistent, driving knot in his jeans. The demanding pressure of his body thrusting against mine, driving me over the brink, driving me insane. I started trembling in his arms as the electrical currents began to race along every nerve ending, and oh God, could that really happen because of this?
My heart was beating like mad even as I felt it breaking in two. It was too much, not enough, everything I’d ever wanted and nothing I could have. Could a person die from this?
His breathing turned ragged and he groaned against my neck, his mussed hair brushing along my cheek, his body slamming against me, losing it. “Christ, Lay. Tell me you want this.”
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, much less him. But I found myself gasping out, “I do. I want this.”
“Tell me how much you want me.”
There was no denying him anymore. “I want you. So much.”
“Me. Not the movie star, right?”
And that. That one simple question filled with all the vulnerability, all the insecurity, all the truth of this man in my arms is what pushed me right over the edge of reason. For all his seemingly abundant confidence, all his swagger, that defenseless side of him was never seen by anyone. Just me.
His words caused a crack to form within my heart, splitting it down the middle, breaking at the
thought of this incredible man questioning his value. The uncertainty he lived with, the need for me to confirm his worth. How could he even ask? Didn’t he know the amazing man he was? Nobody before or since had ever made me feel the way he did. Maybe it wasn’t everything, but it should’ve at least counted for something.
But if he needed me to say it, I could do that. I could do that for him.
“Yes, Trip. Just you. It’s always been you.”
He kept up his pace, the both of us threatening to completely fall apart. We might as well be… We could just… I felt the dizzying cadence of my every nerve ending tightening, twisting, screaming for release just as Trip whispered, “Say my name again. I want this entire city to know who’s making you come.”
Oh God.
“Say it.”
Holy hell. Fine. Own me.
“Trip…” I whispered back.
He grabbed the back of my hair in his fist and pulled, forcing my face skyward, stealing the air from my lungs.
“Fucking say it.”
“Oh, God!”
“Close enough.”
He closed his lips over my mouth again, smothering me, consuming me. In one fluid motion, his hand plunged up the back of my shirt and gave an expert snap against my bra, undoing the closure with a move smoother than Fonzie tapping a jukebox. The act was so startling that I jumped, knocking the picture fully off the wall, where it landed with a crash onto the side table.
We could have ignored the crack of the wood frame as it came down.
We could have ignored the splintering of glass as it fell to the floor.
We could not ignore the sound of Devin’s voice coming from the answering machine.
Chapter 24
THE PERFECT STORM
I slapped absently behind me, trying to press stop, but of course it was too late. Breathing heavily, the spell broken, I suddenly realized that my legs were wrapped around a man who was not my fiancé.
Trip must have realized it, too. He put his hands at my waist and gave a little nudge, my cue to lower my feet to the floor. I did it, just as his arms wrapped around my middle, gathering me into a tight hug, holding me fixed to him, his face in the crook of my neck, his breath ruffling my hair.
We stood there like that for a moment, the both of us returning to Earth, trying to get our breathing under control, not knowing what to do about this latest development, the reality that was my life.
I felt the gentle kisses he trailed along my temple, the resigned sigh of desperation in his voice as he spoke softly against my skin, “Shit. The guy really knows how to ruin a moment.”
Trip kept me pinned against the wall, but his animal attack was replaced with a soft palm against my jaw, his fingertips smoothing under my hair at the skin along my nape. “But God, Lay. Do you know what I would do, if you could give me another chance at this? Do you think that we can try?”
“A chance at…”
“A chance at us. We’re so great together.”
Yes, that we were. We were electric together. Clearly, that part of us hadn’t gone away.
He was looking into my eyes, the longing clearly displayed in his. “You said you wanted this...” Well, yeah, sure, if you want to get technical about the whole thing. “…I do, too.”
I was still in a daze from our madness, coming down from the sensation of the most incredible “kiss” I’d ever experienced in my life.
But then the guilt slid in, overtaking me even as I tried to minimize the blame. The thought that maybe I had only almost just cheated on my fiancé, the mistaken belief that things hadn’t yet gone too far. Trip had just floated back into my life like a dream, but it felt as though I had suddenly woken up. The echo of Devin’s voice still hung in the air around us, cutting away all the hope and leaving only truth:
Living in the fairytale seriously threatened my reality.
And that terrified me.
“Trip? What is it that you want?” My voice was almost accusatory, my turnaround practically instantaneous, and, I’m quite sure, written all over my face.
“I want you, Lay. I’ve always wanted you.” He pulled back as he swiped his fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Can’t you see that? Don’t you know?”
Well, I could certainly feel it, if that’s what he was asking. It was presently trying to poke a hole through my stomach.
I supposed he’d have said anything to stop me from stopping this, pull out his A-game and do whatever it took to get me in that bed. Yeah, sure, he wanted me right then. But what about tomorrow? What happens when he goes back to La-La Land and I’m left here to deal with my real life? Fairytales didn’t exist. Maybe I should have thought about that before falling into his arms.
Yes, we were old friends, good friends. It was amazing to be back in his life the past weeks. But this was a man who was used to bedding lingerie models, the very women that most guys only fantasized about. He employed not one, but two people to manage his exciting life, remind him of the many sensational things on his schedule. He’d circled the globe, seen every exotic locale on Earth.
Clearly, our paths had diverged over the years, because I was a downright bore in comparison.
So, what was this, really? Was he just taking a crack at stirring up the old chemistry between us, viewing me as a challenge, trying to see if he could get me to cave? It had probably been years since he had to actually work to get a girl into bed.
I assessed the look on his face, tried to read his intentions. There was something disturbingly familiar about the words he’d just spoken. I want you, I’ve always wanted you? It felt like he was reading off a script, feeding me a line.
Is he acting right now?
I gave him a long, hard look before asking, “Trip, what is this?”
I’d shifted out of his grasp, allowing a few inches between us. His hands were still around my waist, but they’d stopped moving. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you trying to do here exactly?”
My blood started to simmer, the fear and insecurity turning to anger, taking root and spreading out to every corner of my being, gathering heat and strength like a Category 5 hurricane.
Trip tried to defuse the storm. “Nothing, Lay. Just trying to give you what you want.”
I could lie to myself, but the scary truth was, I had wanted this… and I’d been a willing accomplice to my own demise. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, rehooking my bra and buttoning my blouse. “Give me what I want? What am I, some sort of charity case?”
Before he could respond, the phone rang, jostling us out of the last of our trance.
And even though I knew who was calling, I answered.
Trip watched while I talked to Devin. I tried to ignore the disbelieving look he was aiming at me while I did it, as I attempted like all hell to sound normal. “Hello?... Yep, just got in… Oh, you’re just heading to the airport now? Jeez, the redeye, huh?... Yes, I got your message. Just now, actually. So, you’ll… Okay, yes, I’ll see you at work tomorrow… Mmm hmm. Okay. Have a safe flight. Bye.”
I hung up with my fiancé and turned hesitant eyes to Trip. He was leaning against my wall, still shirtless, looking like a fallen god.
Talk about awkward.
I had no idea what to do as he stared me down, jaw slack, incredulous. Finally, he broke the silence. “You’re really not going to tell him, are you.”
“Of course not! Wait. Tell him what?”
He crossed his arms, defiant. “That you don’t love him.”
“That’s none of your business,” I shot back, defensively.
He started pacing around my living room, pulling his shirt back on roughly, running his hands through his hair. “I think it’s very much my business! Jesus, Lay. Live your life! Don’t just let it be decided for you. Make a choice for godsakes.”
“I’ve been making my own choices for years now, Trip.”
He stopped. Frozen in place. Trying to read my words. “And
you chose him.”
I heard my voice crack as I answered, “I chose him.”
He actually winced, defeated, as if my words had slapped him. I was so confused, I didn’t know what to say. Yes, Trip. I chose him. I chose to live my life, never thinking you’d someday be walking back into it. I chose a career and an apartment and what to eat and wear all on my own because I never allowed myself to believe that I could choose you. Please don’t ask me right now to throw that all away for just one night of make-believe.
I wanted to cry, the hurt ran so deep. I was crazy about this man, but the stakes were just too high. He was asking me to risk my entire life for just one night in bed with him. I mean, yeah. It would be an incredible night. But still. Maybe the life I’d built was only a house of cards, but it was my life. The life I’d made for myself. Trip was a steamroller in that regard. A beautiful, sexy, adorable steamroller.
I actually weighed the options much longer than I should have.
My body moved on auto-pilot, opening the door to see him out. He looked at me in astonishment, like he couldn’t believe I was sending him on his way. Truth was, neither could I. But how could he expect me to do anything other than that? How could he even ask?
His eyes were chips of ice as he gave me a sidelong stare. “We both deserve better than this.”
This was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time. After everything we’d been through, the memories from years ago to the actuality of the past few weeks—all the tender touches, the knowing smiles, the laughs and tears and heartache—This was all we were left with.
He was right. We both deserved better.
He grabbed his jacket off the area rug, but stopped before he was completely out the door. “Look. This isn’t the final word on this. I’m going to wait for you at the hotel tonight. If you don’t show up, then it’s final. I’ll walk away and respect your decision.”
My heart actually cracked at the thought, and I fought the frustrated tears that threatened an appearance. What were we doing?
He tipped my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “But when you do show, then I’ll have my answer. I think you’ll feel differently by then. I think you’ll realize how much we both want this.”
