Oh shit.
Five Inappropriate Thoughts I Had In The Olive Grove
1) His face is so goddamn beautiful, and I fucking straddled it last night!
2) Wonder when I can do that again.
3) Would it be rude to wake him up for sex?
4) What the hell am I going to do when I have to go home to my real life?
5) I’m going to miss him so fucking much.
A warm breeze blew his curls over his forehead, and I brushed them back again and again, finally admitting to myself what I’d been trying so hard to deny.
I’m going to miss him because I’m in love with him. It’s crazy and stupid and not practical and totally too fast and bound to end badly—but it’s real.
It didn’t matter what I called it—friends-with-benefits, fuck fling, rebound thing... What mattered was the way I felt when I was with him. The way he made me feel like I could do anything, say anything in my head, have anything I wanted. He was teaching me things about my body and desires I’d never known. He was teaching me about the beauty of living for the moment. He was teaching me not to worry so much about what things looked like, what other people thought, what I thought I should be.
I loved who I was when I was with him. And I loved him.
An ache rooted in my chest began to grow, and I imagined it like a seed from which black vines sprouted in every direction, constricting my stomach, suffocating my heart, squeezing my throat. The ache spread throughout my entire body, making my limbs heavy with its weight. Before I could stop it, a tear escaped and slid down my cheek, followed by several more, one of which plopped onto Lucas’s forehead.
I sniffed, and Lucas stirred.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me. “Sorry, I fell asleep. Your voice is so soothing. Did you get to a sad part?”
I nodded. Wiping at my eyes, I forced myself to brighten up. “Sorry, I’m just a little emotional.”
He sat up and moved next to me, leaning against the tree and placing his arm around my shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize to me.” We sat like that for a moment before he spoke again. “Listen, I didn’t even think about an engagement party being kind of difficult for you, and I should have. I will totally understand if you don’t want to go.”
“What? No.” His voice was so worried, and I put a hand on his leg. “That’s not it, Lucas. I’m not…I don’t have a problem with the engagement party. I want to go. Really.”
“OK.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t argue.
I settled into the crook of his arm, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths, embarrassed that I’d been caught crying and praying I could fight back against the rest of the tears waiting to fall.
“Is it me then?” he asked.
My eyes flew open. Don’t tell him. “What do you mean?”
Against my back I felt his chest expand. “You’re upset. Did I do something?”
“No, of course not.” I blinked, too nervous to look at him. He’d know I was lying if he saw my face.
“I hope last night wasn’t too much for you. You’re just so beautiful and I got carried away—”
“No. Lucas.” I turned to face him and pulled my legs beneath me, sitting on my heels. He’d see the sadness on my face but I couldn’t let him think it was because of what we’d done last night. We’d stayed up half the night doing all kinds of fun stuff, including naked checkers, licking scotch off each other’s bodies, and taking a bath in the clawfoot tub—then he let me tie him to a chair and do all sorts of things to his body, anything I wanted.
And he’d obeyed my every command.
“Last night was amazing,” I said. “I promise you, I loved every minute of it.”
He looked relieved. “OK, good. I did too.” He shifted his position and adjusted his pants. “Just thinking about it is making me hard.”
Glancing down, I smiled. “I can see that.”
“So you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong?”
I love you. That’s what’s wrong.
I shook my head. “Nope. Because it doesn’t matter. What matters is enjoying this moment here with you.”
He tackled me, throwing me onto my back and lying above me. “I am enjoying this moment. But I’d enjoy it even more with my pants off.”
I smiled at his insatiable desire. “You’re a fiend, you know. And I think we’re visible from the house.”
“Totally visible.” But he lowered his lips and kissed me, opening his mouth over mine and meeting my tongue with his.
I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him back with a desperation he must have sensed but didn’t question out loud. God, how could he be so nonchalant about this whole thing? I felt like my world was going to split apart in four days, and nothing seemed to bother him about goodbye. I was envious of his ability to be so fulfilled by the present that the future, even the near future, didn’t affect him.
Because he knows, Mia. He knows what this is and he’s never pretended it was anything else. Get that into your head and keep it there.
Lucas picked up his head and traced my mouth with one finger. “I love your lips, have I told you that? But before I decide my family won’t care if they see a show out here, we better go in and start getting ready for the party.”
“OK.”
That’s it. Agreeable. Game for anything. Just here for a good time.
As we walked back to the house, I carried the picnic basket with both hands—maybe it was silly, but I didn’t want Lucas to hold one. Those were the kinds of things that had to stop. And when we returned to Paris, I had to stay in my own hotel room at night. Hell, maybe I should even spend the days on my own too. I had to get used to being without him.
Because even though he wasn’t the type to worry about the future, I was. That hadn’t changed. As much fun as I was having with Lucas, I was still the same person underneath—and just like Jessica, I wanted things in my life that he couldn’t give. Comparing myself to her sucked, but I knew where she was coming from. I was twenty-seven already. I’d be twenty-eight in the fall. Maybe it was dumb to put a timeline on my life, but that’s the way I was. And if he hadn’t been willing to change for a woman he’d loved for three years, he wasn’t going to change for me. I wasn’t that stupid.
I just hoped I could find someone else I had such great chemistry with, someone who wanted to make that promise to me. And let me tie him up and suck him off before kneeling over his face.
I felt like laughing and crying at the same time. My eyes started to fill again and I had to look at the ground and blink furiously to get the tears to go away.
Lucas opened the back door for me and smiled as I passed through it, but his face still wore a worried expression. I’d have to do a better acting job if I wanted to convince him that everything was fine.
Upstairs in the shower, I made myself a list.
Instructions For the Night
1) No affectionate gestures that say “relationship potential.” This includes hand-holding, hair touching, forehead kissing.
2) No fantasizing about a future with him, especially anything related to engagements or weddings.
3) No tears, frowny faces, or admitting what’s wrong. If he asks, you continue to say nothing or, if necessary, lie and say it’s the wedding thing after all.
4) DO NOT make any plans for when you get back to Paris. If he tries, you grit your teeth, summon your willpower, and suggest maybe spending some time on your own. List some attractions at super-high heights you want to see.
5) No more sex.
Actually, I didn’t really put that one on there.
Ain’t nobody got that kind of willpower.
Gilles and Lisette’s engagement party was the kind of event I wish I’d planned. In fact, I took a ton of photographs during the evening and got excited when I thought about showing them to Coco. In my head, I made a list of the possible venues where an outdoor Provençal-style wedding might be possible, although recreating the look and fe
el of this place would be a challenge. The colors, the light, the scents, the textures, the tastes…they were all so particular to this part of the world. But there were things I could imitate—the tables for four with wide easy chairs, the antique lace tablecloths, the lavender and wildflowers on the tables.
It occupied me for much of the night, which was good. I needed something to take my mind off Lucas, whose appearance in a wheat-colored summer suit, light blue shirt and THE TIE rivaled the scenery. His shave was clean tonight, and I fought the urge to rub my cheek against his jaw many times. And the urge to lick it. Yeah, I had that one too.
I kept up a stream of bubbly chatter about my job to avoid breaking down, and he listened with interest, never complaining when I wandered off with my camera. But the I’m Totally Fine, Really I Am act was taking everything out of me—I was exhausted by the time everyone sat down for dinner, unsure of how long I could keep up the pretense.
We sat with the family at a long head table, and the meal looked lovely, but I wasn’t hungry. I picked at my food, mostly just moving it around on my plate.
During dessert, Lucas asked me if I was OK.
“Of course.” Picking up my wine glass, I took a hefty sip.
“You seem quiet,” he said, running a finger over the halter strap of my bright pink dress.
I set the glass down. “Just thoughtful.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Don’t you dare, Mia Devine. Don’t you fucking dare.
“Uh…” I took another swallow of wine, which gave me time to think up an allowable answer. “What’s left on the Paris list, actually. I’ll only have three days once I get back from here, really only two and a half, depending on what time the train gets in.” My voice sounded terribly unnatural to me.
“That’s right. You’re leaving Tuesday, huh.”
“Yep. Back to reality.” Bright, toothpaste-commercial smile.
His lips tipped up, but it wasn’t his usual grin. “I guess so. I have to work at The Beaver Saturday night, so—”
“That’s OK,” I chirped. Come on, Mia. More enthusiasm, you can do it. “Now that you’ve showed me how to get around, I’ll be fine on my own. No worries.”
“I was only going to say that we can take an early train tomorrow.” Eyes troubled, Lucas studied me carefully. “But…do you mean that you don’t want to hang out anymore when we get back to Paris?”
More wine. That’s it. Drain the last drop. “Uh, no, not exactly.” I fussed with the stem of my empty glass. “I just meant that you don’t have to play tour guide anymore. I can do things by myself.”
Silence. “Is that what you want?”
Of course not, you dummy.
I opened my mouth to continue with the night’s slightly-less-than-Oscar-worthy performance but Lucas ruined the whole thing by answering his own question.
“Because I’ll be really sad if it is.”
Oh no. Oh, Jesus. Tears were coming.
Desperate, I looked around the table. Where the hell was the wine bottle? The rest of the family was engaged in chatter and didn’t notice the quiet drama unfolding between us, but I knew if I didn’t get up and leave, the dam inside me was going to burst.
“Mia?” Lucas reached for my hand.
“I’m sorry.” Pushing my chair back, I jumped up and flew past the other tables, across the pool deck and around to the other side of the house. Into the dark I ran, working my legs as fast as I could in my heels, grateful that I ran track in high school and had kept up the habit for exercise. Through the garden—ever tried to run on gravel? It sucks, and that’s in running shoes—beyond the fountain, all the way to the back of the olive grove. I ran so hard I couldn’t even cry, lungs threatening to split wide open, a painful stitch in my side. When I reached the edge of the vineyard, I collapsed against the side of an old stone outbuilding.
Laying my cheek on the cold, rough surface, I pounded the heel of my hand into the stone and sobbed. I cried just as hard as I had when Tucker had called off our wedding, and the crazy thing was, I felt even sadder. Unlike the tears I cried then, these were fueled only by a broken heart, without anger or regret or shame to dilute them.
“Mia!” Lucas’s voice echoed through the grove. Could he see me? I stifled my sobs, but a moment later, I heard his fast footfalls and then felt his hand on my back. “Mia, oh my God. Are you OK? Come here, please.”
Maybe it was a mistake, but I let him turn me into his arms and continued to cry silently on his shoulder for a minute. He held me tight, rubbing my back, saying nothing. When my shuddering slowed, he swayed me gently and kissed my head. I lifted my tear-stained face from his chest, and he kissed each of my wet cheeks. Then my forehead.
Stop doing these sweet things. I’m already in love with you and you’re making it worse.
But I couldn’t say anything then because his mouth was on mine, and his arms were around me, and our bodies were pressed together in a way that turned my hopelessness into desperation, making me greedy for what he could give. I wanted it. I wanted it now, and I didn’t care about the price.
Jumping up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him with ferocious desire, fisting my hands in his hair, biting his lip, gasping for air. His hands groped my ass and moved me against him, and I could feel his cock pushing against me through his clothing. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.
He backed me into the stone wall, and I knew I’d go out of my mind if I couldn’t have him inside my body. “Lucas. I want you to fuck me. Now,” I demanded against his lips.
He didn’t fight it. Letting my legs drop to the ground, he undid his pants while I kicked off my underwear. In two seconds he’d lifted my dress and had me right back where I was against the wall, only this time his bare cock was driving into me.
Our mouths hovered inches apart, teeth bared, breath hot. My passion for him was so immense I felt like my skin couldn’t contain it, like I might burst wide open with it. Every time we were together was incredible, but this was something different. It was frantic and panicked, driven by anguish as much as arousal.
It feels like the last time. It feels like fucking goodbye.
What if it is? What if it is?
I clung to him and he pumped into me hard and fast, then he pulled me tight to his body, grinding me against him. “Oh, God, Lucas,” I panted frantically. “I’m gonna come...”
“I want you to,” he growled. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel it. Then I’m going to come inside you so hard.”
My head thumped back hard against the stone as my climax hit, and with every contraction of my body around his, words pulsed through my head… fuck, yes, oh, my, God, right, there, you’re, fucking, amazing, I, can’t, get, enough…
He groaned and pinned me harder against the wall, dropping his face to my neck and filling me completely. I felt him—I felt the pulsing of his orgasm as if it were my own, and I gripped him with my legs and held his head in my hands, my heart drumming in my chest. I opened my eyes and looked at the sky.
I saw stars that haven’t even been born yet.
God, I love you.
And then it happened. It was in my head one second and on my lips the next. It was kind of like a movie, where you know the heroine is going to do something stupid and you reach for the screen in slow motion, yelling nooooooooo!
“God, I love you.”
As soon as the words were out, I froze.
Lucas picked up his head. “What?”
“Oh my God.” Embarrassment flooded me, my cheeks hot with shame. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean that.”
“Wait.” He closed his eyes a second. “You didn’t mean it? Or you didn’t mean to say it?”
“I—I—” I whimpered in hideous, humiliating agony. “I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.” I glanced down to where our bodies were joined. “I can’t think at all. Maybe we can have this conversation, um…”
Lowering my feet to the ground, he pulled out of me
, and immediately I felt the warm stream run down my inner thigh.
“Oh, crap.” I held my dress away from my legs.
“Sorry about that. Uh, want me to get you a towel or something?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s OK. But do you think I can make it into the house without being seen? I need to change my dress and I should probably mop up my face too.” I didn’t even want to think about what my eye makeup looked like.
“Yes, I think we can get you into the house unseen. But Mia…” He ran a hand though his hair. “We need to talk.”
I looked over his shoulder beyond the vineyard, as if maybe hurtling the wall and taking off in the direction of Paris on foot was an option. “Yes.”
Oh, God. How the hell was I going to explain myself?
#
Up in our room, I hung the soiled dress in the closet and changed into the one I’d worn last night. I also took off my heels in favor of going barefoot. In the bathroom, I scrubbed my face and splashed it with cold water, but my eyes still looked a little puffy. I covered up with makeup as well as I could, neatened my hair, and reapplied my lip pencil and balm.
OK, think. How am I going to spin this?
I had two options, best I could tell. I could be honest and say that I had strong feelings for him that were confusing and overwhelming, or I could pretend it was just an emotional reaction to the sex and try to laugh it off. Maybe I could try to read him first. He hadn’t seemed all that freaked out. Maybe my dignity could be salvaged, although Jesus, it had taken a beating lately.
Lucas met me at the bottom of the stairs and handed me a glass of red wine. “Here. It’s one of ours.”
“Thank you.” If he was going to break my heart, at least he would do it over good wine.
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