Longing For You (Never Too Late Book 1)

by Mayra Statham

  “But…” his fingers came up to her lips, and instinctively she opened and licked the pads of them.

  “Jess…” he groaned, closing his beautiful eyes, telling her he was fighting to keep control of himself and the moment.

  “Scott…”

  “Not like this. I want to make it special.” He leaned in again and placed a small kiss on her neck. She had made out with guys in the past but she never knew neck kisses could feel like this. Soft and so damn sweet her eyes were tearing up. He wanted their first time to be special.

  His forehead touched hers, pulling her away from the memory of a life that belonged to a different version of herself.

  “Jess, I can’t.”

  "You can't? Really? You sure as shit didn’t have that problem in college, if I remember correctly. Lying to me, to your buddies about us...were we together, not together? Playing Mr. Wing-Man at sorority parties just to prove a point." She knew her voice had an edge and she took a chance showing how much what he had done to them had hurt her. She knew it was a low blow, maybe even childish, but it was the truth. “Why not now?”

  “Have dinner with me tonight?” he asked her, ignoring her rant. She opened her eyes and looked into his espresso ones.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a late business meeting,” she answered, not having one damn clue what he was up to.

  “What time?”

  “What?” she mumbled. She could feel herself start to get pulled back into the murky depths of his eyes.

  “What time, babe?” His face moved closer to hers, their lips only centimeters away from one another’s. His breath was warm on her lips.

  “It’s at five, but it’s in downtown. By the time it’s over and I get home….”

  “Come here afterwards. I'll have dinner waiting,” he told her, taking a step back. She missed his body, his heat, and his scent instantly. So much she almost whimpered in protest. “I have to go shower, I’ll see you later,” he said as he walked away and up his stairs, leaving her standing in his front room, speechless.

  Chapter Five

  Scott

  Picking up the phone, he knew what he was about to do sucked. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew her dad was right. Her dad, who was usually scary and somewhat of a dick, had invited him to get coffee and he’d met up with him. Jess’ father had laid it out to Scott and had not been shy about holding back. He loved his daughter. Jess was the light of his life. He knew shit had gone down between them, they were young, bound to have their share of drama, but he wanted Scott to give his daughter space and some time.

  Scott knew her father didn't like him. He couldn’t blame him, either. He had fucked up and hurt her one too many times. Being too young to know what he had and believing love, real love, wasn’t the dramatic mess his parents had shared until five years ago when they’d finally separated. Now Jess and Scott were finally in a place where he was ready to man up and admit his faults, but he’d noticed every time he brought up the future, there was a cloud of doubt in her eyes.

  He’d done that. He’d put it there. And really all her dad was asking from him was to give her space. To give her time. Two years. Shit, they’d been together since junior year of high school and now with college graduation within sight, two years was nothing.

  Two years. He could do two years. He could wait. He could give that to her. She deserved it. But if she fought it, he knew he’d cave and say screw it.

  “Hey,” her sweet voice over the phone made his hands clench.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding as somber as he felt, but he needed to give her this.

  “Everything okay? I’ve tried calling you while I was in Seattle,” she’d spent spring break with her best friend Shelly. He knew she called because he purposefully missed each one. As much as it had killed him, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

  “Yeah, just busy.”

  “Oh,” he could only imagine what she thought he meant.

  “I…”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft. He imagined her in her room, sitting at the edge of her bed, phone to her ear. Her honey-blond hair spilling down over her shoulders, bangs in her eyes as she bit at the nail of her left thumb. She always did that when she got nervous or worried.

  “Jess. I think this is...this isn’t going anywhere.” He didn’t know how he got the words out, but he had. It cut him open to do it, but he had to.

  “What?” she whispered in a tone that made his insides hurt. Literally fucking hurt. Cut-and-bleeding kind of hurt.

  “While you were gone…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. We aren’t going anywhere. What you and I have…”

  “Before I left…” she whispered again, but her voice hitched, and he knew she was crying. He gave her a moment, because tears were running down his own face. “Before I left, you were talking about getting married and naming our future kids,” her voice was soft and so damn raw.

  He had. He had brought up their future. But he’d give her this time. He would use this time to finish school, save every penny he could, and start his career. Two years from today, when he came back to her, he would not be fucking around. He’d be able to give her everything she deserved and would finally be worthy of her.

  They would have that future they had talked about. There were the moments she had let go of the cloud of doubt and he knew she let herself believe he could give it to her. He had memorized every little thing she wanted. A dog named Red, square plates in their kitchen. One day he would give her everything. From the kids, the dog, even the funny vintage salt and pepper shakers she had mentioned. One day he'd give it to her. He most certainly fucking would. All of it.

  “I know,” his voice came out hoarse.

  “I’ve only been gone a week and now you’re telling me we aren’t going anywhere?” Her voice was suddenly calm. Too fucking calm, and he braced for her to lash out.

  “Yeah,” he strained. This was the biggest fucking lie he’d ever told her. Telling her he didn’t see their relationship going anywhere. She was quiet and it killed him. As much as he hated doing this to her over the phone, he knew if he was standing face-to-face with her, there was no way he'd be able to walk away.

  “Five years…” Her voice broke and he heard her take a deep breath. “I thought we turned a corner, Scott. I thought you got whatever you needed to get out of your system. It was never about having new life experiences, was it?” she asked, sounding defeated, and it shocked him. His Jess fought and fought hard when it came to them.

  “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, a sick filling in the pit of his gut.

  “It was me. You weren’t sure about me…” her voice was flat and it scared him. He’d never heard her sound like that.

  “Jess…” he started to tell her he couldn’t do this, fuck it. He was going to be a selfish bastard and give in, tell her the truth and hope to fucking God she could forgive him.

  “Did you ever really love me?” she asked and it hurt. No, he couldn’t do this. This had to stop, but before he could take back the words, she cut him off again. “Don’t answer that...umm…I’m sorry. I have some of your stuff here. I’ll leave your stuff at your front door after work tomorrow. Be happy, okay? Umm…”

  “Yeah?” His voice cracked. Tears were rolling down his face. He heard Jess’ breath hitch as she sniffled into the phone.

  “Just be happy, Scott.” Her voice cracked and the line went dead. She hung up on him. He threw the phone across the room and it crashed into a framed picture of them, one she’d given him for Christmas last year.

  Of all the memories that filtered through his mind all day, that one stood out. For those two years he’d worked his ass off and for what? To come back and find out she got married and moved away.

  Years became decades and with life came distance, but she always found a way into his thoughts and dreams. If he was being honest, not one day had gone by without thinking of her, of what could have be
en and where she might be.

  But he never thought of the possibility her son and his daughter meeting, falling in love, and getting married.

  Fate had a fucked up sense of humor.

  He’d met Drew tons of times. He liked the kid, though he wasn’t enthusiastic his little girl was shacking up with him, even if they were planning on tying the knot. But that was because she was his girl, his princess. She was marrying a good guy, though. At only twenty-six, Drew had his shit together. It didn’t hurt Drew thought the sun rose and set with Chloe.

  Sitting on his navy blue, oversized sectional, he watched the news as he drank his beer. He didn’t look at the clock.

  She was going to stand him up. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones. He’d left work early and cooked, had set the table and cleaned up his small home, hoping.

  Just in case.

  He knew the clock would tell him it was past eight, meaning she wasn’t coming. And yet, for some fucking reason he kept hoping.

  His body was tight and tense. He should have kissed her this morning, kissed her and carried her ass upstairs to his room to show her how serious he was, how alive she made him, how his body reacted to her, how his heart felt full and whole the same way it did all those years ago. But he didn’t. Instead, he’d stupidly given her the chance to not show. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  Chapter Six

  Jess

  She sat in her car, staring at Scott’s house again, noticing the pretty rose bushes in various colors along the side and light shining from the front window where he was waiting.

  Waiting for her.

  She’d been in her car for the last thirty minutes, thinking. Her meeting ran later than she’d thought and she caught traffic coming here, but she still made it on time. Yet, here she was sitting stupidly in her car. Frozen.

  All day, the same questions she had asked herself since she realized Scott was Chloe’s dad had kept running through her mind. Why had he named her Chloe? Did that mean something?

  Walking into brunch yesterday only to see Scott there, next to Chloe, when she was supposed to be meeting Chloe’s dad, had taken her by surprise. The world was small, but THAT small?

  Why had she even come over for a second time? She closed her eyes, thinking about what a coward she was being. A part of her wanted to be polite and call him, make up a lie, telling him she was caught up with work and she was sorry. But she didn’t have his number. Another part of her, the part that made her drive here instead of home, was glad she couldn’t call him because she wanted to see him.

  Now, she sat in her car repeating the morning in her head and how after all these years he made every nerve in her body buzz alive. Forcing her to remember what it meant to feel that way again, how alive actually felt.

  After the last two years, alive felt pretty amazing. Better than amazing. It was beautiful and exhilarating.

  Like the rush of a first kiss or the slight buzz from a really good drink. Neither had happened to her in a very long time, but now she remembered.

  She took a deep breath, opened the car door, and walked across the street. Standing in front of the deep brown wooden door, about to knock, she hesitated. Placing her hand flat on the cool wood, she closed her eyes. What was she doing? She was fifty-seven years old, not a twenty-year-old with a whole life to live.

  At twenty, she’d been at his front door, forgiving and pleading to work things out. She’d been shameless about it, loving him with everything she’d had, even when he’d hurt her by going out to parties without her. Looking back, it was silly, really. He wouldn’t have messed around on her, and deep down she knew it. She’d always trusted him. But she let her stupid insecurities and jealousy create most of the problems they’d had. If only she’d remembered she trusted him then. Maybe then, all the time and effort put into their relationship wouldn’t have been for nothing, ending over the phone.

  Over the phone!

  She’d been so heartbroken at the time, but life went on.

  She met Kevin through a mutual friend and they’d shared a connection. Kevin had been like a warm blanket after a snowstorm. Soothing. Comforting. He’d asked her to marry him after six months of dating and she’d said yes. They had a great marriage and loved one another. Sure, it had been different from what she’d shared with Scott, but it was love nonetheless.

  Then over time, with the kids and their work life, they’d lost themselves and each other in the shuffle of things. Their love had turned more into a friendship, and when they realized what had happened, they agreed it wasn’t enough to hold a marriage together. Still to this day, they’ve maintained their friendship. Seven years ago, two months after their divorce was final, Kevin met the love of his life. He was open and honest about it, even slightly torn over his feelings, but Jess had been happy for him. She’d watched from afar as her best friend of so many years married the love of his life and started a new family.

  Concentrating on the door in front of her, she started to panic, realizing what stood behind it. She couldn’t do this. Her chance for love was gone. Men Scott’s age dated younger women, while women her age enjoyed gardening and reading romance novels. Just as she was turning to leave, that disheartening thought in her head, the door opened and a calloused hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up to see his dark eyes on hers.

  “You came.” His face was serious. His hold on her was strong, but he wasn’t hurting her. Her heart rate picked up as a swarm of butterflies invaded her stomach.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You were leaving,” his voice rumbled, and she noticed his eyes locked onto her mouth as she licked her top lip. His grip tightened around her wrist.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” The seriousness of his tone and the dark look on his face captivated her. His touch exhilarated her.

  “I...”

  “You feel this, Jess.” He stepped into the house, bringing her with him. The way he said those four words with a confident assurance told her he wasn't asking her, he was telling her. And as much as she wished it, he wasn’t wrong.

  “Scott…” but she didn’t say another word because at that moment, his mouth came down on hers.

  God, his mouth.

  It was so damn good. He had always been a great kisser. His tongue licked her lower lip exactly the way he used to so many years ago, beckoning for her to open, and like the idiot she was, she opened for him. Giving him what he wanted. Like always. His tongue touched hers and she felt her arms tighten around his neck, clinging to him for dear life. Kissing him had always been a thing of sheer beauty. She’d had dreams of his kisses for years they were so good.

  It was like riding a bike; something she would never forget. Like their bodies knew exactly who the other was. His calloused hands moved to the side of her face, tilting her slightly to deepen their kiss and she gave it to him. There was no way she couldn’t. He tasted. He drank. He took. And she just gave. It was brilliant.

  Scott

  He moved her, pulling her into the house. One hand roamed her body while the other dug into her scalp, threading his fingers into her silky, blond hair. Dominating and controlling. His body was alive and awake. He couldn’t get enough of her. It was as if time had stood still, had erased all those years. He pressed her up against the wall, roughly, making the pictures shake, but all he could hear were her moans and purrs. Fuck, she drove him crazy. She always had. They had been like fire and gasoline, and from the feel of it, it was as though nothing had changed and he thanked God for it.

  “Scott,” she moaned, and he moved to kiss her neck, her sweet scent filling his head.

  “You taste so fucking good...better than I remember…” his voice was so deep and strained he hardly recognized it. “Jess…” he started to say but felt her freeze. Her body stiffened and he took a deep breath. But it didn’t help. Her scent filled him again, making his need and want so much stronger, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. All he could do was rest his fore
head against her neck and struggle to catch his breath, but that was a huge fucking mistake. Everything was familiar. So damn familiar.

  “What are we doing?” her voice trembled, and he knew she was going to flip out.

  “Babe...”

  “You hurt me,” she whispered and he stood still, keeping his forehead pressed tightly against her sensitive skin. “You ended us...over the phone. We were together for five years and you ended it with a phone call,” she kept whispering, pain laced in every word.

  Pain he’d put there. Pain that sounded so fucking raw it could have happened yesterday rather than so long ago. Pain he felt and made him sick.

  She tilted her head back against the wall, and he moved his face to look down at her, not knowing what to expect.

  Her hand came up to his jaw, her eyes roaming over his mouth. She traced the bridge of his nose the way she had done so many years ago, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. Her eyes glazed over as if she was remembering something , but then she shook her head, closed her eyes, and re-opened them a second later.

  “I should go,” she said adamantly, but he didn’t want that.

  "Don't," he knew he was pleading with her, but he didn't give a shit.

  "I ... I should go," she repeated, unsure of herself now. Her lips pink and swollen, her cheeks flushed, she was fucking beautiful. Add the soft, confused expression on her face, and Christ, she was fucking adorable. Thirty-five years later she was still fucking adorable.

  They stood in silence, staring at one another, their fingers slightly tangled with one another's. Her hand felt damn good back in his. He wasn't even sure she realized they were holding hands. All he knew was he didn’t want to let her go.

  “I cooked,” he finally said, and she looked at him with another expression he'd never seen on her before.

  “What did you make?” she asked, biting her lower lip, making his dick twitch.

  “Lasagna,” her serious green eyes glittered and then she smiled.