by Melody Grace
“Leaving finance,” my dad is saying, as the waiter clears our plates away. “That’s a big risk.”
“Not really,” I speak up. “His furniture is beautiful, and he’s working on some great new designs. I can’t wait to see how they turn out.”
Will looks surprised, then bashful. “We’ll see. I’m talking to some design stores in the city, I hope to maybe have a few pieces carried by the fall.”
“No maybe about it,” I say firmly, and he laughs.
“If I had one tenth Dee’s ambition, I’d be set.”
My mom gives a little sigh. “We’re hoping she’ll turn some of that focus to other things,” she says meaningfully. “Like a family, perhaps.”
I tense, about to interrupt, but Will just rests a calming hand on the back of my shoulders. “She’s got plenty of time for that, don’t you, Dee? Right now, she’s building her future,” he continues easily. “And it’s clear from the way people talk about her around town, they think the world of her. You must be very proud of everything she’s achieving.”
Mom blinks. “We are. Of course we are.”
There’s a pause. I look over to Will, touched. I can’t believe he’s standing up for me like this, and even more, that he means it. I feel a lump in my throat, and quickly take a sip of water.
“How about dessert?” I say brightly, changing the subject.
Will groans, “How are you still hungry?”
“It’s a skill,” I grin back. “Years of training, nothing but hard discipline to get me to this point.”
“I’m going to have to up my game to keep pace,” he sighs.
“You’ll live.”
Mom gets up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She heads towards the bathrooms, and Dad waits a moment, then bobs up out of his seat too.
“Just need to check in on something.” He winks and disappears to go talk to the server. Will and I are finally alone.
I let out a long breath, and reach for my wine.
“How are you holding up?” Will asks. I give him a faint smile.
“Better, with you here. Thank you. You know, they’d be giving me that quiz about future plans and family if you weren’t here to take the bullet.”
“I like them,” Will says. “They just want you to be happy.”
“Well, they love you,” I tell him, then pause, suddenly feeling shy. “I can’t believe you came,” I say softly.
Will gives me a quizzical look. “You want me, I’ll be there. That’s just the way this works.”
This?
I feel that shiver in my chest again. I swallow, about to ask exactly what “this” is, but my parents rejoin us at the table, and a moment later, the server brings over champagne and a small, perfect chocolate cake, decorated extravagantly with fresh flowers and fondant.
“For the love of my life,” Dad announces, getting to his feet. Mom gasps and claps her hands together, tears glistening in her eyes as Dad makes his toast. “It was the best day of my life when you agreed to marry me, and every day since then, I thank my lucky stars I found you. Here’s to another twenty-five years together, darling.”
The other diners break into applause. He leans down to kiss her, and they smile and whisper sweet nothings to each other. It’s the perfect picture—except I know there’s way more to the story, lurking just out of the frame.
Like the woman he kept out in Charlotte, and the night when he finally came clean: Mom throwing all his clothes out the window onto our front lawn, and then sobbing for hours on the bathroom floor like I’ve never seen before—and never want to witness again.
I hate myself for feeling this way: looking at their happiness now and seeing nothing but past pain. God, why can’t I just let it go? Why am I the only one who remembers all the lies?
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, and bolt from my chair. I hurry to the restroom and lock myself in a stall, trying to process all the emotions whirling in my chest.
It’s just a dinner, I tell myself. If this is the story they want to tell themselves about their marriage, it shouldn’t matter to me.
I take a deep breath, then another. Soon, I’m able to get my emotions back under control. I rinse my hands under cold water and touch up my makeup, and by the time I rejoin the table, I’ve got a big smile plastered on my face—and I keep it there for the rest of the meal. Only Will shoots me a couple of questioning looks; Mom and Dad remain oblivious, feeding each other cake and cooing happily until the check is signed and thankfully, this anniversary is over.
We say our goodbyes at the table, and I promise to come visit them soon. “You too, Will,” Mom says hopefully. “We’d love to see you again.”
“That would be great.” He shakes my dad’s hand. “Congratulations again.”
We exit the restaurant. “So,” Will begins, placing a hand on the small of my back, guiding me across the street to where he’s parked. “Do you want to tell me what that was about—”
He doesn’t get to finish; I’m already pulling his face down to mine and kissing him with everything I have. He stumbles back, surprised, but I loop my arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, desperate and searching.
“Wait.” Will tears away from me. “Your parents . . .” He quickly looks around, so I tug him back into shadows behind his truck, hidden from view as I push him up against the passenger door and claim his mouth again. This time, he doesn’t protest, just sinks into the heat as I cling to him, pressing my body against every inch of him, licking into his mouth and making him groan.
“Thank you,” I tell him, when I finally have to come up for air. I kiss along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe. “Seriously, thank you for doing this.”
I feel Will chuckle against me. “If this is my reward, sign me up for every anniversary, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.”
“Baby, I’m just getting started,” I promise. His face is shadowed in the darkness, but I can see the light in his eyes, strong and bold with passion, that reckless hunger that’s ricocheting in my veins, too. I catch my breath, my heart pounding. We’re on the edge of something here, and all it’ll take is just one small step to send me hurtling into the unknown.
I touch a finger to his lips, and take that step.
“It’s time for you to take me home.”
Twelve.
Will drives me back to his place, silent in the dark with the windows rolled down. I keep my hand in his, our fingers intertwined, trying to ignore the wild racing of my heart and the knot tangled tight, just beneath my ribcage.
I’ve done this before, but somehow with him, it feels brand new. Every look, every touch, full of possibility—and a risk too, something deeper and more dangerous than I’ve known before.
This matters. He matters.
He leads me inside, and flips the lights on. “You want something to drink?” he asks. “I have water, beer . . .”
“No, thanks.” I stand there, just inside the doorway, watching him.
Will’s expression changes, softer now. “We can talk, if you want,” he says gently. “I don’t know what was going on at dinner, but something’s up.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk,” I tell him, swallowing back the knot in my throat. “I just want you.”
Will exhales slowly, then he closes the distance between us and brings one hand to my cheek. “Dee . . .” he murmurs, still concerned, but I clench my jaw, determined.
“You’ve made me some awfully big promises,” I say, smiling; flirty, the way this should be. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving a lady unsatisfied.”
Will’s eyes flash, and his lips curl in a grin. “Never.”
“Well then . . .” I slowly unhook the straps of my dress and let it glide to the floor. I feel his eyes on me, devouring me as I stand there in my bra and panties. The heat rushes through me, a gorgeous anticipation, and I feel my nerves slip away under the hunger in Will’s gaze.
This part, I know: the pleasure, the power. The fun. It coul
d all be so simple.
Why can’t everything just be simple?
“It’s time to keep your promises.” I wink, then turn and walk slowly up the stairs, my hips swinging with every step. I hear Will follow, as I head for his bedroom. I push the door open and go lie down on the bed, propped on my elbows—displayed to him, waiting.
He stands in the doorway and slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I think you’re forgetting something,” he says, tossing it aside.
“Like what?” I ask, enjoying the show. He unbuckles his belt, and then strips off his pants, too, standing in just his briefs there in front of me, so taut and delicious, and my pulse races even faster.
God, I want him.
“I promised I’d fuck you,” Will agrees casually, moving closer, close enough to grip my ankles and yank me closer, down the bed.
My heart stops. My whole body sizzles with anticipation. He traces my lips, easing them open, and pushes his thumb into my mouth. I shudder at the intimacy, the cool touch of his skin against my tongue. He leans in and kisses my cheek, my neck, the swell of my chest. I inhale in a gasp as his hands slide over me. Touching, teasing, a trail of quicksilver on my sensitive skin. I arch up, needing him more than I think I’ve ever needed anything, but instead of pinning me down and ravaging me, Will’s voice murmurs, soft in my ear.
“But I said, when I take you, you’ll be mine. Are you mine, Delilah?”
His eyes lock on mine, questioning. I don’t know what to say, I have no words, so I kiss him hard instead, trying so desperately to keep control. But Will refuses to let me set the pace; his mouth on mine stays slow, so infinitely sweet. He eases my lips open and sinks his tongue into my mouth, deeper, hotter than anything I’ve felt before. I want to lose myself in the oblivion of pleasure, block out all these messy emotions and shut the world away, but it’s no use, not with him.
When he kisses me, there’s no escape.
Will’s lips explore softly, his steady hands pin me down, and something in my chest finally snaps, unravels. The knot of sadness, that angry, bitter place, it all unspools as I sink into the tenderness of his embrace. All the feelings I’ve been holding back and trying to ignore come rushing through, and I can’t hide anymore. Because Will won’t let me. He sees past all my bullshit excuses, and somehow still wants me. The real me. Not just for fun, a wild fling, all those meaningless, safe little games. But something real.
Something I could hold onto, if I only trusted myself enough to let go.
I pull away, breathing fast. He looks at me, waiting, patient. I gently press my hand to his cheek. “I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper, hating that I’m suddenly on the edge of tears. I feel naked and exposed, all my messy emotions suddenly dragged into the harsh light of day. I swallow back the sting in my throat, and admit the truth. “I don’t know how to be with someone, like this, for real. I’ve never even come close.”
Will looks at me with such tenderness, I swear my heart could break in two. “It’s easy, I promise,” he murmurs, his hazel eyes searching mine. “Just trust me, that’s all you need to do. Trust me, and just . . . be you. That’s all I want, to be with you.”
I still don’t understand it, how he can be so certain and resolute. I’ve done nothing but try to keep him at arm’s length, and he still sees something in me that makes him stay. “What if I’m scared?” I ask, my chest aching. “I might fuck this up, and get everything wrong . . .”
“There is no right and wrong.” Will holds me, so close I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong in his chest. “There’s just us. You and me, right here, now. That’s all it is. Whatever you want, it’s yours. You want to sit up all night playing Scrabble, I can make that happen,” he adds, giving me that boyish grin. “Although, I draw the line at letting you win.”
“No chance.” I have to smile, despite everything. “How about a working gas stove?” I ask, teasing.
“OK, that might take a little longer.” Will smooths back my hair. “But I mean it, Dee. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises softly, searching in my eyes. “The rest is up to you.”
I stare back, torn. For years, I’ve been telling myself that this is impossible. Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. But from the very first night we met, he’s been proving me wrong—giving me a glimpse of a future I’d sworn didn’t even exist. He made me chicken soup, for christ’s sake, even when I was a fevered wretched mess.
There’s nobody like him in the world, and maybe this will all fall apart one day, but what if it doesn’t have to? What if this love can be real?
Wouldn’t that be worth the risk?
The thought crashes through me in an instant. Not him leaving, or lying, or the hurt angry fighting in the end—but everything else we could have, if only I would try. Will, in my bed, not just tonight, but a hundred more nights besides. Afternoons with my friends, just hanging out, and sultry summer evenings together by the creek. Him waiting when I get home from work, there when I wake in the morning, when I need someone; just him.
It’s intoxicating. So close, I want it more than anything. So why am I fighting it so damn hard?
Will can see the fight I’m waging inside, because he gives me that crooked smile. “Or I could just fuck you tonight, and leave the rest on the table.”
I blink, surprised.
“You’re nearly naked in my arms,” he points out. “I may have some self-control, but you’re really testing it right now.”
He trails one fingertip down my body, over the dip of my waist and up over the curve of my hip. It makes me shiver, makes me almost say to hell with it, but I know him too well for that.
“No,” I whisper. Hurt and disappointment flash on his handsome features. “No, I mean, yes, to more,” I say quickly, taking his hand. “I want more than just tonight. I want you, all of you.”
There’s a pause, and I see my words sink in. Then desire flashes, hot in his gaze, and there’s no time left for talking, no time for anything but his mouth on mine and his body crushing me with delicious weight as Will stretches me back into the soft linens and claims me once and for all.
This kiss is anything but controlled. Hot and wild, his hands are on me, everywhere, the hard heat of his body pressing into mine. I wrap myself around him, devouring with every breath, losing myself in the sweet, reckless pleasure I’ve been running from for so long.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I sink into his embrace, I give myself up to him, completely. Tasting him, touching him, feeling his body shift and hitch; memorizing every cool curve of muscle and shivering stretch of skin. I kiss along his neck and down over his chest, wanting to feel every inch of him. Will’s skin shudders under my wandering fingers, and I trail my tongue down over his stomach, biting lightly at his hip and making him stiffen with anticipation. I peel his briefs away, and then he’s thick and glorious in my hands, God, so delicious, I have to taste.
I close my mouth around his tip, angling my head to take him into my mouth.
“Fuck, Dee . . .”
Will’s voice is ragged, a distant sound over the heartbeat pounding in my ears. I settle between his legs, still touching him, my palms to the smooth planes of his body, and now I feel it tense and hitch, his hips straining towards me as I slide my tongue down that gorgeous shaft and swirl back up again. Will’s hands settle on my head, tangling in my hair as I take him in my mouth again, deeper this time. I find a rhythm, sinking into the bliss, the sheer sensual pleasure of surrendering myself to this moment, to giving, to everything I want to tell him but can’t find the words.
I don’t need words, not like this, when my mouth can say everything I want without uttering a sound. I find the pace, using my lips to tease him, the very tip of my tongue, before taking him deep again, deep and slow until he’s gasping. It’s different with him. God, it’s all brand new. Not a competition, some big performance, a race to the finish line. Now, all I want is to hear his groans of pleasure and make them last, feel the
slick heat of his skin beneath my tongue. I lose myself in him, the cresting build of tension and need wound tighter, tighter as his hands grip my hair and his body thrusts to meet me. My body is wildfire, shimmering and raw, and he hasn’t even touched me; no, all I have is his satisfaction, but somehow, it’s more than enough.
I want to show him everything he means to me. Give him the pleasure he’s given to me. And now, feeling his body rise and his groans grow more desperate, I know he’s on the edge. I pull away, teasing just the tip until Will lets out a desperate growl, then I sink back down, taking all of him, as deep as I can, moving my lips along his shaft as I slide my tongue against him, over and over, relentless, until Will pulls away. I look up, confused.
“Not like this,” he says, almost growling as he yanks me up the bed. He rolls me, pinning me down beneath his body. “I’m not coming until I’m deep inside you, baby,” he swears, the look in his eyes making by blood run hot. “I want to feel you begging for me, give you every last inch.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and I arch up eagerly, wrapping myself around him, god, so ready for more. His hands are on me, everywhere, stripping my bra and panties away, and following that electric touch with his lips and tongue. He teases at my nipples until I’m aching, moaning, his tongue sliding hot over my trembling skin. Will takes one stiff peak into his mouth and sucks, hard, as his hands part my thighs wider. I catch my breath, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp as his fingertips tease at my slick core. “Fuck,” he moans against me. “You’re so wet.”
I’m shuddering against him, wound so tight I can barely breathe. Every inch of my skin feels electric and wild, and I’m writhing now, impatient. “Please,” I manage to whimper, dizzy with lust for him, with pure molten need. “Please Will . . .”
He reaches for the nightstand. I take the foil packet from him, savoring the stiff heat I feel as I help slide the condom over his shaft and then yes, fuck, he’s poised above me, that gorgeous face alive with desire. But there’s something more, too: a reverent look in his eyes that quiets my last doubts and sends me spinning into the sweet rush of the moment.
