His voice echoed his pain. “Please, Joss. I miss you.”
“Aww, too bad you’re not homesick. I hear Danielle does this thing where she helps with that.” I turned, then quickly turned back. “Try to remember a condom this time, okay?” With my final parting shot, I strolled out of the building. When I’d walked far enough out of sight, I collapsed against the brick, body shaking, loud sobs mingling with the vibrations of passing cars.
A little part of me always hoped he would come back, take me in his arms, and fix all the things we’d let go wrong. I’d wanted him for so long. Knowing we killed everything we’d built together caused an ache in my heart that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I sat against the wall sobbing, crying, and clutching my purse to me wanting something to hold.
After a while I pushed myself up, dragged my body to the car, and drove away, trying to escape the thoughts chasing me day and night. So many words remained unspoken between us, but too many others had gotten in the way. The distance between where our hearts once were and where our lives led us over the last few years made any words we could say useless.
I walked in and out of every store in the mall, including Chainsaw Emporium, before I trudged through the parking lot to my car. The damn game had to be over by now, and Keaton gone. But naturally karma picked better friends than me. The Cards came back to tie in the bottom of the eighth. I tiptoed past them, trying to make it to the bedroom unnoticed. Apparently, my tiptoeing skills needed work.
Simon looked over his shoulder, catching me. “Hey, Joss. Sit with us. Have a beer.” He held up his can in invitation.
The aluminum glistened as I snatched it out of his hand and crushed it in my fist. Beer dribbled over the top onto my hand, then dripped onto the floor. “You’re not supposed to be drinking.” I wheeled around to look at Keaton. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Keaton held up his hands, a few cans further in than Simon. “He’s a big boy. He decided on his own. All by his big boy self.” His speech slurred and his eyes glazed over.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I grabbed the eight or so cans sitting on the coffee table and pitched them into the trash, each clunk satisfying as they dropped into the bottom of the bag. “I thought you would take care of him while I was gone, but I guess I gave you too much credit. Again.” I added to be nasty.
Keaton stood, wobbled, then righted himself. “It was one beer, Warden.”
“He just got out of the hospital, moron.” Even with anger clouding my vision, I noticed the way his T-shirt stretched over his broad chest and his jeans molded to his long legs. I forced myself to focus on the beer cans and the anger rather than the Keaton Shaw Sexiness Quotient.
“And he’s sitting right here,” Simon said, getting rather huffy himself.
Keaton and I both turned on him and said in unison, “Shut up, Simon.”
I poked my finger into Keaton’s chest. “You were responsible for him. He’s on medication, and he isn’t supposed to drink.”
“He didn’t even finish the goddamn beer. Jesus, Jocelyn. I’d never let anything happen to him.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, farther until he almost fell. My hand on his chest pushed him straight.
“Yeah? Well, pardon me if I don’t take you at your word. You haven’t exactly kept your promises to me, now have you?” While I hadn’t meant to go there, my mouth once again grew a mind of its own where Keaton was concerned.
He put his hands on his hips and glared at me swaying slightly. “Well, no I haven’t, now have I?” He tried to plop down on the chair, missed the arm, and landed smack on his butt on the floor.
Simon chuckled and said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Try to be finished fighting over me by the time I get back, okay?”
“I was a terrible husband.” His whisper echoed louder than a scream. “I didn’t protect your heart.”
I didn’t have it in me to argue, especially since I agreed with his position on the matter.
“And now, you hate me.”
Hate might have been a bit strong, but again, I remained quiet.
“I really did come back here to marry you.” He reached out and cupped my ankle. “You have pretty feet.”
“And you have ADHD.” I shook my foot free and reached a hand down to help him up.
Instead, he pulled me down next to him and threw an arm over my shoulder. “I’m too drunk to drive home.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and grinned.
“You can sleep with Simon, or you can sleep on the couch.” I shrugged the shoulder closest to his body, my arm tingling as it rubbed against his chest.
“A few days ago, you were practically begging me to sleep with you.” He pulled me closer and leaned his head into my neck, searching out the spot that flipped my horny switch.
Temptation being such a fickle bitch, I almost let him continue his quest. “Whoa, there, stud. Not gonna happen.” I pushed him back, but didn’t move away.
“I wish I had a time machine.” He put his head down to where his chin almost touched his chest. “I would hold onto you and never let you go.”
“It’s too late for all of that, Keaton,” I said softly. Oh, if only…
He lifted his head, his eyebrows knit together. “That’s what I want the time machine for, crazy girl.”
I chuckled. “Well, you know, I wish you had a time machine, too.”
“What I do not understand”--he took a deep breath--“if you wish I had a time machine”--he pushed his fingertip into the end of my nose--“and I wish I had a time machine”--he stabbed his own chest--“why can’t we pretend I have a time machine? We can go into your room and lie down, you can rub my back, and after I feel a bit better I’ll rub your front.”
He looked down at my chest and a spark ignited a flame inside me. When even drunk Keaton charmed me, I knew I had it bad. I looked into his eyes, which he struggled to keep open. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
He popped off the floor. “Now, we’re on the same page.” He reached out to help me up.
I slapped his hands away and stood up on my own.
He walked straight into my room and wagged his finger at me, then promptly threw himself backward across my bed.
As I tried to yank him up by his belt, Simon strolled in. “Man, gross! This is like old folks porn.”
I threw a pillow at him. “Your four minutes older than I am! Now help me get him out of my room.” I tugged on Keaton’s lifeless arm.
Simon held up both hands, backing down the hallway toward his own room. “You let him in here, you get him out.”
I shook my head. “Thanks. You’re the best brother ever.” I tossed the other pillow at him and turned back to Keaton. “Get out of my room.” I grunted, tugging on each arm with all my might. As soon as I relaxed my hold, he grabbed me by the wrists and pulled the other way so I ended up on top of him.
His arms wrapped around my waist. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a choice.” He dropped his hands.
I rolled off of him and ended up lying next to him as we both stared at the ceiling.
“What if I bought you flowers every day?”
“My apartment would look like a funeral parlor.”
“I could buy you candy.”
“I’d get fat.” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.
“What if I wrote you a love letter every single day for the rest of our lives?”
Simon, the eavesdropper, said, “That’s gay, dude.”
“You’re thirty years old. Don’t say dude.” I developed a new understanding of my mother. Turning on my side, I tucked my hands under my head. “What would you write?” It wasn’t as simple as curiosity. I wanted to know what made his mind whirl. Drunk or not.
“If you want to know, you’ll have to give me another chance.” He turned to face me.
I shook my head. “You had sex with Danielle.”
“And you haven’t be
en with anyone these last three years?” He propped his head up on his elbow as his other hand tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’m a forgive and forget kind of guy.”
“It’s not the same thing, Keaton. She wasn’t some random girl. Of all people, you picked the girl who destroyed us. Who took whatever little bit left of us was left and stomped on it with her big ugly shoes.” To be honest, her ridiculously expensive, totally to-die-for shoes earned my intense jealousy, but I couldn’t think of one ugly thing about her. Built like Pamela Anderson with shampoo commercial hair and big bright eyes, framed with lashes that never required help from mascara or eyeliner, Danielle represented a picture of extraordinary beauty. Yeah. I hated her when we were kids, and as we grew older, and most especially when we became adults.
“I explained that already. I don’t think having that conversation again will help my position.” He rolled his eyes, his hands up in surrender.
“Keaton, I don’t think anything can help your position.”
His eyes dilated with passion. “I have a position I think we should discuss.”
I pushed his chest and he rolled back. “Shut up.” He stared at the ceiling once again while I stared at him. Gawking at him as he lay peacefully next to me brought such feelings of nostalgia I smiled at the memories my mind enhanced to a perfection they’d probably truly never achieved.
I remembered how sweetly he kissed me when he wanted sex, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch and precisely how much pressure to apply, and the weight of his body pressed into mine. With every fiber of my being, I knew this dangerous train of thought led nowhere good, but I couldn’t quite summon the will to slam on those brakes. My body heated up, and my heart pounded in my ears.
“Keaton,” I whispered, moving closer, then climbing back on top of him.
He rewarded me with an open mouthed snore.
I stomped out of my room and made quick work of tidying the mess they’d made. Trying to distract myself from the thought of the man lying in my bed, I snatched a bucket out of the closet and filled it with water. On my hands and knees, I scrubbed the kitchen floor until my arms ached and it sparkled as though Mr. Clean himself popped in for a visit.
At midnight, my stomach growled and I snuck a candy bar from my secret, hidden-from- Simon reserve of chocolate. I stole one of Keaton’s beers and plopped on the couch. Aside from fantasizing about Keaton, chocolate was my only guilty pleasure ,and I savored every melting bite.
At about one in the morning I stomped into my room to stake my own claim on the bed, and by all the good and holy deities of the land, sleep in it with Keaton or not. Finally, too worn down to care that he’d flopped on my bed of all places, I stripped off my clothes and hopped into a pair of semi-skimpy pajamas.
I crawled under the covers he lay on, yanking and tugging them from beneath him. At some point, he’d scooted his way up to the pillows at the top of my bed, and I snuggled in close, putting my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and floated in the space between wakefulness and sleep as he stretched and wrapped his arms around me.
One night, I promised myself. For one night I would allow myself, without recrimination, to bask in the feel of the man who lived as much in my system as my own blood. It meant nothing more than two adults napping together until one sobered up and left the other’s apartment. No big deal. It also meant absolutely nothing that I’d jostled him enough that he’d moved to stand in front of me. His jeans slipped down and landed in a pile on top of his shirt before he joined me under the blankets. It’s only a nap. I repeated that in my mind as he lowered his head and took full possession of my mouth.
With that first kiss stars exploded behind my eyes in a thousand bursts of light. To say the man owned his skills would constitute the definition of an understatement. His body pulled at me, drawing me into a web of pure Keaton lust. I ran my hands over his skin, lavishing attention on the rippling muscles contracting with his every breath. His body inspired prayerful thanks. I let out a sigh of “Holy crap, Keaton” in appreciation. He smiled against my skin and my body temperature soared.
With his arm under my neck, he pulled me forward until I sat up looking into his passion filled eyes. His hands ran down my throat and shoulders, along my rib cage. He ignored any area shouting for his touch, then grabbed the hem of my tiny tank and slid his hands underneath. With the gentlest of touches against my ribs he pushed the shirt higher and higher until he could easily pull it over my head. With Keaton, all my insecurities vanished. I wanted this as badly as I wanted him to want me, and by the look in his eyes, my wish came true.
“Jocelyn,” he whispered, his gaze raking up my body until he found my eyes. “You are so beautiful.” Then his lips crushed mine, pushing me against the mattress, urgency in his every touch.
I pulled away from him and urged him on his back. “We have all night, Keats.” I absorbed every moment like a lust-starved sponge.
“I probably don’t have much longer.” His voice slipped on a breath as my hand slid beneath the blanket.
“Wanna bet?” I challenged, a wicked spark gleaming in my eyes and my soul.
“Joss.” He tried to twist away, but held on to a part of him we both enjoyed, and this battle of wills was mine to win.
“Shh, be still.” I began kissing him anywhere I could reach. Nibbling on his ear, I worked my way down his neck to his chest, then ran a fingernail across his stomach and soothed the skin with more tender kisses. As I dared lower, he caught me by the shoulder.
“No.”
“Shh.”
“Jocelyn, please, not now. I want to be inside you. I need to be inside you.”
As though telepathically moved, I lay next to him as he lowered his body onto mine. My eyelids fluttered shut, and my hands clasped around him, holding him to me as though he tried to get away.
I missed this part of our relationship.
With the first slow thrust, conscious thought failed me, and I lost myself in his magic. I absolutely didn’t hear him say he loved me before he kissed me. Nor did I hear him ask me to never let him go as he moved me toward the edges of the earth. I did, however, hear him cry out my name as first my mind, then my mouth, begged and screamed for more. Time spun backward, and while in his arms, our problems meant nothing. We belonged this way. Our bodies and souls connected, remembered one another, knew the right words to say and buttons to push. With one touch he brought me back to life, and I wanted to cherish the precious seconds. In this moment, I had Keaton and nothing else mattered. And I wanted to be his everything.
I lost myself in his touch, his words, and the sensations. For once, my mind shut off, and I let myself fall into his every gaze, every wisp of a touch, and every perfect valley and plane of his form. My nails raked down his back, his powerful muscles contracting with every movement. His breath hitched each time I caressed his skin. His tempo sped up along with my pulse, my heart dangerously close to exploding in my chest. My body soared and lifted off as delicious awareness gripped me. Keaton’s body pressed harder and my eyes closed. I grasped his shoulders and gave in to the passion overwhelming every single one of my senses.
As he poured his soul into me after one final powerful thrust he shuddered. In that incredible moment so pure, intense, and absolutely indescribable, I knew this man’s hold on my heart would never release.
Thirty seconds after we finished, I was already chewing my bottom lip. Regrets of every make and model whirled laps around my brain. Not that it wasn’t amazing, because it was OMG amazing, but I chewed on my lip knowing in my heart the sex gave him hope we had a chance when I could practically give him a hand-written guarantee that we’d destroyed the love we once shared. The idea that he slept with Danielle bigger than the amount of forgiveness I could muster. Knowing that and the fact I’d crawled into bed with him anyway, sucked the breath from my lungs. I closed my eyes and rolled away. Sleeping with Keaton made me selfish, the Danielle kind of slutty selfish. I clutched
the pillow to my chest and muttered a curse into the shampoo-scented cotton.
The mattress dipped and my body inched back toward his. With a gentle hand on my shoulder, he turned me to face him. “Don’t do it,” he warned, softly.
“Do what?” His ability to read my moods when I tried to hide it irked me.
“Get all in your own head about this.”
I rolled my eyes, then looked toward the window.
“Listen, Joss, I love you and I’m not going to deny it just because you’re mad at me. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing wrong with what happened here.”
I turned back to face him. “And if I say no matter how many times you end up in this bed, we aren’t getting back together, is it wrong then?”
“We are going to get back together, because living without you isn’t a choice I can accept. We need each other. You make me a better person and I love you for that, and for the thousand other things about you that keep me up at night wishing you were next to me. I know I've made mistakes, but I can’t make you love me again if you don’t let me try. So, sweetheart, we are going to get back together.” His finger trailed down my neck to my collarbone. “But until then, there is nothing wrong with this.” He bent forward and kissed the same path, nipping and nibbling as he went along.
I melted against his tenderness and the words he spoke. Blowing out a breath, I gathered up the last bit of strength I could muster. “Keaton, I have to get up in a little while to take Simon to the doctor.”
As he tried to pull away I held him in place, and he chuckled against my neck. After a long set of deep breaths I released him, and he pulled back enough to look into my eyes.
“I don’t want you to think this means anything more than what it is.”
“And what exactly is it?” he asked.
“Sex. Nothing more.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept staring. “Do you have any food? I’m starving.”
Here He Comes Again Page 17
