“Yes,” I breathe.
“Yes?”
“Take me, quickly. I need this.”
My thong drops to the floor and one of his hands snake around my waist. If he touches me I’m going to explode, I’m so ready. I’ve been ready since he first sat me on this bar. I hear the rustling of him undoing his pants, but I can’t see him. The suspense is killing me.
“I hope you’re ready, baby,” he warns against my ear as his hand grips mine on the counter. His leg slips between my thighs, nudging them further apart. Just when I think I can’t take the suspense any more he pushes into me. I instinctively push back causing us to meet somewhere deep, almost painfully deep, and I cry an ecstatic cry.
Jesse eases out and back in, pushing to my very depth with slowness that is both frustrating and phenomenal. I feel every inch of him filling my tight walls and the effect is mind-blowing. Jesse begins to move faster, harder, my hands needing to hold firm against the counter for leverage. I push back with each thrust, meeting his rhythm and intensifying it. The pleasure is borderline pain as his length is relentless against that hypersensitive spot deep in my core. It’s too good, too soon. His grip on my hip is tightening and his mouth at my neck is frantically sucking, all evidence that he is as close as I am.
“You’re amazing, sweets, so amazing.”
“Show me how amazing,” I pant. He groans and if I didn’t know how happy he was he’d almost sound angry. He reaches around and touches me where he knows I need him. I can’t hold on for him, but I don’t need to. I implode, crying out as he buries into me, finding his release and prolonging mine. We sag against the bar. My legs would be giving way beneath me if it wasn’t for Jesse’s strong arms holding me up. Turning me to face him, he holds my head in his hands. I can’t deny my smile and neither can he. He’s looking at me with sheer adoration in his eyes. That’s more than enough to show me he loves me, but he tells me anyway.
“I love you, so much,” he breathes.
“I love you, too.”
Shaking his head, he sighs. “I know. And it’s the best feeling in the world.”
Chapter 20
After a night full of bittersweet goodbyes I am now walking Jesse to his car for a final farewell kiss before he leaves us and his past and returns to New York and his present. Hoping to secure a diary full of meetings and interviews to aid his move back to Starling, Jesse is proving true to his word.
Every time I think of him leaving from an outside perspective I feel ridiculous at my level of upset. Couples spend time apart all the time. It’s healthy, especially when they have only been dating for a couple of weeks. I should be able to accept that I’ll be seeing him again in a week’s time and look forward to the break, but where Jesse and I are concerned nothing could be that easy. His departure incites insecurities in me of the intense kind and I find myself fighting through fears of abandonment and shades of envy. I have worked impossibly hard the last ten years to dispel such issues, only to find them stronger in their return the moment that they’re tested.
He has promised me that he will be back as soon as his schedule permits and while he is here with me, I can believe him. It’s when he is welcomed back into the streets of his captivating city that I’ll worry. It’s hard not to be swept away by the life and lights of New York, especially if it has been your home for the last ten years. I can imagine him being lured back by the lavishness of his life with women and power being offered to him like H’orderve’s. I can’t imagine a world where an old girlfriend and her child are more appealing.
“Stop worrying.” Jesse squeezes my hand before releasing it to put his bag in the trunk of his car. Not once relieving me of his impenetrable stare.
“I’m not.” I lie.
Closing the trunk with an effortless thump he strides back to my side, takes my hands in his and holds them close to his chest.
“I’m not leaving here until you promise me that you’re okay,” he warns.
“Of course I’m not okay. But I have to be, so I will be.”
He inhales deeply and I can physically see my worry merging with his own when his face tightens. I should be better at pretending that all is fine by now.
“I’m going to miss you,” I sigh.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” he whispers against my knuckles as he kisses them with heart wrenching tenderness.
“You’ll be fine when you get there. You’ll fall right back into the swing of it. Us on the other hand…I can see Benjamin moping around for days.”
The two most important people in my life have already said their goodbyes to each other. It was awkward and difficult to watch. Jesse promised to be back very soon and even left me instructions on how to cook Benji a good breakfast. He said it was a joke but from the amount of detail included I think he’s genuinely concerned for my son’s taste buds.
Benjamin found it difficult to comprehend why Jesse couldn’t stay and I struggled to contain my emotions when he jumped into Jesse’s arms for his goodbye hug. He is now sulking on the sofa.
“You’ll call me when you get there?” I ask, although it comes out as more of a command.
“Of course.”
“You won’t teach me a lesson and leave me hanging all night?” I tease, attempting to introduce some light into this dark goodbye.
“No. I’ll call you when I arrive and every few hours after that, if you’ll let me? I want to feel you still around me,” he whispers into my hair.
“I’d really like that.”
We remain in each other’s arms for an indistinguishable amount of time. We don’t speak, but Jesse hums our song into my ear and I have to work hard to fight the imminent tears. I vow to keep them at bay until I’m alone and able to wallow in my grief. I don’t want Benji to have any reason not to believe Jesse’s promise.
As high as my tiptoeing feet will allow me, I reach up and cup his face in my hands, remembering the way his stubble feels against my palm and the feel of his inviting breath on my face, storing them away for when I’m alone later.
“Don’t forget me,” I beg.
“Like that’s even possible.” In one sudden movement I am pressed impossibly tight to him and my feet hang inches from the floor. My arms are round his neck and his forehead is pressed lovingly against my own.
“You love me?” His words are flooded with unnecessary insecurity.
“With everything I have.” I whisper, strengthening the meaning by focusing my browns on his blues.
“Show me. Kiss me like you love me.”
Reacting without deliberation, my wanton lips find their peace in the warmth of his mouth. The pressure is almost painful as we knead the connection harder and harder until my legs wrap around his waist and he leans me against his car. The need to be closer is overriding my self-awareness, but when a passing car honks its horn Jesse pulls away reluctantly.
Placing me steadily back on the ground he kisses me with less zeal but no less feeling, and opens the car door. Taking a seat behind the wheel of the Mustang he lowers the window and takes my hand to his mouth.
“I’ll remember that kiss every time I think of you. I love you,” he says, his voice low and full of depth.
“I love you.”
“I’ll speak to you soon,” he says, stressing the last word.
As he pulls away I feel a part of myself leave with him. If it wasn’t for Benjamin walking down the steps of our home to pull me back into our house, our reality, I think I’d have crumbled into a loveless mess.
Our home is as it always was. There is nothing of Jesse’s here, no evidence that he ever visited and yet it feels like a completely different place, brightened by his temporary presence. I can only hope it doesn’t dim through his absence.
With Benjamin in bed and chores finished I am without distraction. I find some solace as I soak in the bath, but when the scented oils sting my grazed knee I am reminded of Jesse and the events following my fall. I savor the feeling of being looked after when I recall how
he carried me on his back as we made our way to the car. And how upon our return home he cleaned and dressed my knee, and I let him, regardless of the fact that I am a mom with much experience in attending to boo-boo’s.
I delight in how careful he tried to be with me when we made love that evening, feeling guilty that he hadn’t taken my knee into as much consideration earlier. But, by the second and third time we were able to establish that I wasn’t in any pain, and Jesse was able to relax enough to be as desperately passionate as we both needed him to be.
I reminisce about the joy brought to the household by this morning’s breakfast banquet. Jesse had performed a miracle by cooking such plentiful good food in the confines of my minuscule kitchen. Benjamin was silenced from sheer shock. He ate more than his body weight in food, leaving him sated and quiet as he relaxed in Jesse’s arms in front of the television for a morning of cartoons.
We spent the afternoon making the most of each other’s company and took Benji to my new and old favorite hangout, Mo’s Diner, for lunch before returning home for a painful goodbye. I wince as I relive the look on his face as he pulled away and immerse my head into the now cold bathwater to ease the ache.
I dry myself hurriedly before pulling on some cotton shorts and my Aerosmith t-shirt. Once upon a time it fit me perfectly, but now it sits a little too high on my stomach and is tighter against my fuller bust. I practically lived in it throughout my last year of school and since Jesse mentioned it I’ve had an inexplicable need to wear it again.
Sinking into bed, I pull the thick covers around me despite it being too warm, and silently urge sleep to take me quickly so that I can find Jesse in my dreams. My eyes are forced shut in an attempt to induce unconsciousness, but they are wide open only moments later when my phone lights up promisingly from my bedside table.
Are you awake, sweets? x
Jolting upright and crossing my legs Indian style, I eagerly reply.
As if I could sleep. Can I call you? x
Seconds later the photo of Jesse assigned to his contact number is glowing gloriously up at me, and I swipe my finger frantically across the screen to answer.
“Good evening, Mr. Jenner. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I say in my best English accent.
“Oh, the pleasure is mine, Ms. Cole. I’ve needed to hear your voice all night. Not that voice though, you sound like The Queen.”
I giggle. “It’s only been a couple of hours since you last called me.”
“Far too long. What are you doing?”
“I was just about to attempt sleep. I was hoping to see you in my dreams.”
“Hmm…What would we be doing in your dreams?” His voice is deep and as needy as my own.
“Anything goes as long as I could be with you.” A groan echoes down the line and I hear ice chinking against glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey. I’m stuck at a new club for a couple of hours. I needed something to see me through. I’d much rather I was drinking crappy wine on your couch though.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage with whiskey.”
“This is my third already and I won’t be home for some time.”
“Take it easy,” I scold. “I don’t want you succumbing to alcoholism in my absence.”
He chuckles lightly before the line goes quiet. I hear him taking another swig and then exhaling slowly, enjoying the burn. My words have fallen on stubborn ears.
“At least you have your job to keep your mind busy. I have nothing to do here. I just took a bath but I still couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“You were thinking of me in the bath?” His response is immediate and playful.
“I’ve been thinking about you everywhere. On the sofa, in the bath, in bed. I can’t escape you when I have nothing to amuse my time.”
“I’m glad you can’t escape me. You can’t tell, but I’m smiling.”
“No, I can tell.” I relish in the joy evident in his voice. “I miss your smile.”
“I miss you.” He sighs. “I don’t even have a photo of you with me. I should have thought it through more. I should have stolen your perfume or your Aerosmith t-shirt or something.”
At his admittance of missing me I become a living cliché and fall back against my pillows, clutching my heart with my hand as it brims over with dangerous levels of love.
“My pillow still smells of you. I sprayed it with your aftershave. And I have the pictures I took of you at the rock pools. I’m so much better prepared.”
He’s smiling again. “I’m jealous.”
“I’m wearing my Aerosmith t-shirt now, ya’ know,” I whisper suggestively, and I’m rewarded by another low groan.
“What else are you wearing?”
“Just panties. Little, skimpy panties.”
“Really…A bra?”
“Nope,” answer, popping the P.
He sighs, deeply. “You’re killing me, baby. I’m already frustrated.”
“We could always try and relieve you?”
“Oh, you want to play that game?” I hum in approval. “Sweets, you are full of surprises. Tell me what you want.”
“I want your hands on me,” I breathe, sliding my hand underneath my t-shirt, softly cupping my breast and imagining it to be Jesse’s. “My hands are on me, Jesse. Where do you want to touch.”
“Everywhere. I want to explore every bit of your perfect skin.”
“My breasts?”
“Yes…”
My hands travel obligingly to my heavy breasts, immediately taking the tight buds between my fingers. “My nipples are hard for you, Jesse.”
“I’m rock-hard for you, baby.”
“Are you feeling your hardness?”
“Yes…” Our teasing banter is interrupted abruptly when I hear a door knock down the line and a sudden intrusion of loud music. “Shit!” The line scratches with an echoing scuffle before a male voice sounds out beneath the music. I can’t distinguish individual words.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, sweets, I have to go. You’ll dream of me?” he asks over the thumping base of a dance song.
“All night.”
“I’ll meet you there. Bye, baby.”
“Bye.”
The line stings with silence and I remain still as I allow our conversation to sink in. I’m overwhelmed by my need for him. It has already grown since the few hours he’s been gone and I worry about the extent to which it can expand before he is back. I love him so much. I love how we are with each other and how he gets me. I love that he seems to reciprocate my need for him. I want to show him my love in every way I can. I’ll start by sending him a little gift.
Opening the camera on my phone I turn it around and point it at myself, holding the phone far enough away that my t-shirt can be seen. It’s lifted high, exposing both my stomach and the very top of my panties. I point to the Aerosmith logo and smile genuinely as I imagine the slice of happiness that my photo will give Jesse, knowing that I’m wearing it for him. I press the capture button and waste no time in sending it to his number along with an explanatory text.
Now you have a photo of me :) I will wear this until I can steal one of yours x
I wait impatiently for a reply for several long minutes. I then wonder if he will reply at all while he is distracted at work, but before doubt completely takes over a reply flashes across my screen.
I love you so much already, but that photo has pushed me over the edge. You own me. Goodnight, sweets. See you in your dreams. I’ll be the one on my knees ;-) x
The double meaning fills me with a deeper longing to be with him. I want him in every way. I stop myself from texting a sonnet full of declarations, knowing that no words will do my love for him justice when they are displayed on a tiny screen. Instead, I reply with an understated…
I love you too x
…and look forward to a time when I can express my adoration in person.
Bang, bang, bang.
No answer.
Bang, bang,
bang.
“Jesus, Michaela!” Joanna cries as she pulls open her front door. “I heard you the first time, how about give me the time to…”
“I know what you did.” I scorn. “I’m here to tell you that I know what you did.”
She lifts her chin in stubborn denial. “Know that I did what?”
“That you told Jesse to leave. That you practically walked him onto the train,” I accuse, pushing past her and making my way into the hall of her house.
“Come in why don’t you,” she mutters, but I hear it and shoot her a warning look. She sighs pointedly and closes the door.
This is the first chance I have had to confront Joanna since Jesse has left. I didn’t want to taint the time I had with him by getting upset over my sister and her traitorous ways. So, I have buttoned my mouth, until now.
“How could you do that, Jo?”
She walks past me and sits on the stairs, her elbows on her knees and her head hanging in defeat. “He told you?” she asks.
“Of course he told me.”
“And now you hate me,” she states. I roll my eyes, neither denying her assumption nor confirming it. “Look, I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, and I certainly didn’t know how badly you were going to take his leaving. I just…I knew you were going to get hurt eventually and I thought that it would be easier getting hurt before you were so invested.”
“I was already invested,” I snap.
“I see that now, and I know it’s too little too late, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry and I really do regret what I did.”
Her apology resonates throughout my anger, dispersing it enough for me to think clearly. I feel like I’m reprimanding her, towering over her like this, so I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her, needing her to go on without the fear of me losing it.
“But, I don’t understand why you even felt the need to get involved. I mean, I knew you hated Jesse, but…”
Interrupting she insists, “I never hated Jesse.”
Forget Me Not Page 22
