Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1)

by Abigail Drake

  Contentment.

  Just the thought of spending time with him made waves of contentment flow over my body. When I was actually with him, the feeling amplified.

  I frowned; worried if the sensation came from Thomas, it could go away just as easily, but then I realized something important. I’d grown content in other areas, too. With my studies. With my roommate. With my teachers. With my life.

  It came from me. Not from anyone else.

  I needed to go and see Mr. Ando tomorrow. I wanted to share with him what I’d learned, including something else. Something I understood as soon as Thomas rounded the bend and I saw his face.

  The partner of contentment was joy.

  I stood up and ran into Thomas’ arms. He looked a bit shocked at the enthusiasm, but gave me a warm kiss. “That was quite the greeting.”

  “I’m happy to see you, ox.”

  “And I’m happy to see you as well.”

  He tried to peek into the bag I carried, but I refused to let him, scolding him and swatting his hands away. We walked to a place not far from the university, and when I finally figured out where we were going for dinner, I laughed.

  “An American diner?”

  “I thought you might be craving beef burgers,” he said.

  I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Thomas.”

  The diner had a retro feel, with waitresses on roller skates and oldies playing in the background. He helped me into a booth, and slid in across from me. After we placed our orders, I handed him his gift.

  He opened the card, a bit silly and sentimental, reading it aloud and making me blush. “Stop it,” I said. “Open your present.”

  He did, slowly and rather dramatically, but seemed genuinely pleased with the chocolates.

  “Oh, whisky. That’s grand. Wait. This isn’t giri, is it?”

  Giri was the term for a gift you felt pressured into giving, something obligatory.

  I rolled my eyes. “No. It’s honmei. I’d only give you the most genuine and heart felt chocolates, Thomas. Surely you realize that by now.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “All the kissing we’ve been doing has given me a reason to hope, but I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch.”

  He slid a small box across the table. I looked up at him in surprise. “You got me a present?”

  “Of course I did, bampot. Open it.”

  I picked up the package. “Thistle. Daft. Bampot. You positively overflow with compliments, don’t you?”

  I pulled off the ribbon and opened the box, not sure what I’d find inside. I was surprised to see a silver necklace, the charm depicting a thistle. I started to laugh.

  “Really? A thistle?”

  He looked worried. “You don’t like it?”

  I reached for his hand. “I love it. Honestly. It’s so perfect.”

  I turned sideways in the booth and pulled my hair aside when he stood up to put it around my neck, stroking the delicate skin of my nape as he did it. He leaned forward, his hands on my shoulders, and whispered in my ear, “You know, Shinji told me this part of a woman’s body is considered to be very sexy by the Japanese. That’s why the geishas leave it exposed and not covered in paint. I think he might be right.”

  I swallowed hard, composing myself. “Maybe we should put that in our paper.”

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small book. “This is for you, too. Not really a gift. I just thought you’d like it.”

  “A Gaelic dictionary?”

  He nodded. “It might help you understand me a bit better.”

  I gave him a skeptical look as I leafed through the dictionary. “Doubtful, but I appreciate the thought. Where did you get this stuff?”

  “I asked my mum to send it ages ago. Not long after we first met, when I called you a thistle. I thought a little apology might be in order, so I enlisted her aid. She was quite excited, actually. She doesn’t get many chances to shop for girls.”

  I put my hand on the thistle necklace, touched that he’d put so much effort into my gifts. “Now I feel bad. I just bought yours at Mitsukoshi.”

  He looked at me in surprise. “They’re whisky. They’re perfect.”

  We ate our burgers and fries, put coins in the jukebox to play some songs we liked, and laughed and chatted over milkshakes. Later, we went to a bar and had a few drinks, listening to a woman sing love songs in French. It was incredibly romantic, and soon I felt a bit tipsy. Thomas kissed the top of my head.

  “We’d better go before you get all blottoed.”

  I nodded. “I hate being blottoed. I think. I’ll have to look that one up in my dictionary.”

  As we walked home, my hand kept going back to the thistle necklace.

  “You like it,” he said, pleased with himself.

  “I do.” I slipped my arm through his and paused when I noticed the building we’d just passed. “Is that a love hotel?”

  Love hotels were extremely popular in Japan, a place with themed rooms that could be rented by the hour. I’d heard about them, but had never seen one.

  He came to a dead stop. “It is. And they’re having a Valentine’s Day special. Do you want to check it out?”

  My jaw dropped. “Well, I don’t know…”

  He gave me a little nudge with his elbow. “I’m not talking about shagging. I’m saying we should go in for research purposes.”

  “Research purposes. Good idea.”

  He looked a bit surprised I agreed so quickly, but didn’t waste any time. He paid for the room, going to a small window, pointing at a photo of the room he wanted, and getting a key. When he came back, he seemed to choke back laughter.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “They have a Mickey Mouse themed room. I thought you’d like it.”

  “You didn’t,” I gasped.

  “I didn’t,” he said, “but I was bloody tempted. I decided you’d prefer something a little different.”

  He unlocked the door and opened it, letting me walk through first. My eyes widened at the sight of the subdued lighting, elegant furnishings, columns, huge bed, and bath big enough for about five people—if they were close friends. The bed, covered in a plush, white comforter, had tons of pillows.

  “Eee. This is posh.”

  “No kidding.” I put my purse on a chair and slipped out of my coat. “I didn’t expect it to be so nice. And romantic. I thought it would be tacky or trashy or something.”

  “Me, too. There were trashier rooms, mind you.” He found a catalogue of the other rooms available. I sat down on the edge of the bed to look at them. He sat next to me.

  “Holy cow,” I said. “Is that a cage?”

  He squinted at the photo. “I believe it is. I can’t quite figure out that chair, though.”

  A strange chair with two seats facing each other sat next to the cage. I studied it a moment, confused. “It’s for…oh, my.”

  “Oh, my indeed.”

  My thigh brushed against his and, suddenly, I found it a little hard to breathe. “How long did you reserve it?” I asked; my eyes still on the photos.

  “A few hours,” he murmured, his voice husky. “For research purposes.”

  I tilted my head up and looked at him. His eyes seemed a darker blue in the dim light of the hotel room. I reached up to place my hand gently on his face, my fingers caressing his jawline. I felt him swallow hard as his pulse quickened. Thomas, such a big, powerful guy, somehow made me feel so strong.

  “Whatever are we going to do?” I asked softly. “We have so much time to burn.”

  “I can’t come up with a thing. We’ll just have to sit here. Bored to pieces.”

  He leaned down and kissed me. Once. Twice. Three times. My entire body tingled in anticipation, waiting for more.

  The first time I’d had sex with Will, it had been an awkward and uncomfortable affair. We’d done it on the floor of his room, on top of his dirty carpet. Both of us were a little intoxicated, and his roommate, Jeff
, was passed out in a nearby bed. In the same room. We were hidden from view behind a couch, but if Jeff had woken up, he would have seen us.

  I’d waited a long time to lose my virginity, but I felt nothing. Just a little strange and detached as Will moved on top of me, finally shuddering to a climax. I thought I loved him, but now I knew better. He’d been a terrible lover, and he always smelled kind of bad as well. He had a thing about saving money by not washing his clothing. He was a weirdo.

  With Rob, the more I pondered it, the more I had to guess he’d never exactly been able to reach his goal of penetration the one and only time we attempted to have sex. Once again, I’d been drunk, but it seemed like it had been a clumsy and unsuccessful attempt at intercourse, but not intercourse itself. I guess I’d never know for sure. I probably had to keep counting him as a former lover just to be on the safe side.

  I’d definitely slept with Max, but I’d known from the start I didn’t love him. While we were together, sex had been mechanical. A method of satisfying a physical need and nothing else. After we broke up, it became a bit more exciting, but I always felt dirty afterwards. I knew it was wrong, but I just kept doing it.

  And then Dylan. Poor, sweet Dylan. We’d been great together in bed, but something always held me back from letting myself go. From fully committing myself emotionally or physically. As good as it had been, it had never been quite right.

  Now, I understood. The difference between having sex with a person you liked versus having sex with a person you loved was like the difference between a decadent slice of homemade chocolate cake and a prepackaged, cream-filled cake roll. A cake roll had its merits, but it really was just an imitation, a hint, of what the real thing was like. I had the real thing now. I had Thomas.

  As he kissed me, I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. I stroked his face, kissing him back, tasting him. Loving him. He groaned, his hands cupping my bottom. We’d kissed enough now that I knew what he liked, what caused him to make a little involuntary noise in his throat. What made him hard with desire.

  I rubbed against him, feeling that hardness through his jeans and the thin fabric of my panties. His breathing became more erratic. “Oh, God, Sam. Are you sure?”

  I looked down at him. I’d never been so sure about anything. I wanted him so badly I felt like I might self-combust if I didn’t have him inside me soon. But there was something very important I needed to say first.

  “I love you, Thomas. I really, truly love you.”

  He stared into my eyes, his face only inches from mine. “I love you, too, Sam. Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve been madly, crazily, head over heels in love with you. You know that, right? You ken how much you mean to me?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. When his lips touched mine again, it was different. Sacred. Like we’d made some kind of vow.

  I was his, and he was mine, and nothing would change that. Ever.

  A chill went over my skin as I thought about all the things beyond our control. Time. Distance. The past. Dylan. I came to the swift and inevitable conclusion nothing mattered but this moment with Thomas, and I chose to stop thinking, chose to be content, and allow myself to embrace it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Thomas watched the flow of emotions cross my face, and must have understood I’d reached some kind conclusion. I was sure of this and of him. He lifted me off his lap and onto my feet.

  “Let’s get you out of that lovely little dress, shall we?”

  “Yes, please. And we need to get you out of all those clothes, Thomas. You really are quite overdressed.”

  He chuckled, turned me around, and unzipped my dress, letting it fall to the floor. I scooped it up, not wanting Hana’s pretty dress to stay too long on the floor of a love hotel. It looked very clean, and felt safe and private, but this was definitely one place I did not want to shine a blue light.

  I stood in front of Thomas in my undies and bra, and his gaze raked my body. I swear my body temperature went up a few degrees just from him looking at me.

  “Oh, Sam. You are a beauty.”

  “So are you.”

  I sauntered closer, glad I’d decided to wear red lace panties and a matching push up bra today. Most of my underwear fell into the white and whiter category. This set was the only sexy one I’d even brought to Japan. I giggled as I thought about it.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have on a sports bra and boy shorts. That’s usually what I wear.”

  “You’d look smashing in a potato sack, but I am enjoying this.”

  He reached out a hand and cupped my breast, letting his thumb slide across the nipple. I took a shaky breath.

  “Can I take off your shirt now?”

  He laughed. “Lass. You do not have to ask.”

  I stared into his eyes as I unbuttoned his shirt, my fingers brushing against his bare chest. After each button, I leaned forward and kissed the skin I’d just exposed, occasionally giving a little flick of my tongue. It took me a while to get his shirt off, but it was worth the effort to see him standing in front of me, bare chested and aroused.

  I splayed my hands across his stomach, watching the muscles flex at my slightest touch. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. You were terrible about teasing me, you know. Always strutting around after you played rugby, all shirtless and hot.”

  He tossed back his head, laughing. “I was indeed very hot. A sweaty, disgusting mess. My shirt is usually covered in blood, mud, and other people’s nastiness by the time I’m done playing. I’m not about to come up and give you a hug with that thing on.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I like you better like this.”

  I put my hands on his waist and gave him sweet butterfly kisses across his chest. Stopping to tease his nipples with my tongue. Enjoying the way his skin broke out in goose bumps at the smallest caress.

  The hair on his chest tapered to a narrow line that disappeared into the top of his jeans. I used a single finger to trace my way down that tempting trail, stopping when I hit his belt.

  “I think it’s time to remove your pants.”

  “I think it’s time to remove yours, too.” He reached for my undies, but I shook my head, my hair brushing against my naked back.

  “You first.”

  I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, unzipping them slowly and enjoying the feel of his hardness against my hand. I pushed them down, over his hips, and let them drop to the floor. He was huge. Enormous. Spectacular. Colossal. When I saw he had on tight red boxer briefs, I started to giggle.

  He tossed his jeans on a chair and then lifted his hands, turning back and forth to model his boxers for me. “I wore them for you. In honor of St. Valentine’s.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, hands on my hips. “You had this all planned out?”

  He thought about it. “Yes, and no. I’d hoped to get you in the sack someday, but I had no idea when it might actually happen. I thought it best to be prepared. Semper paratus. Like a boy scout.”

  I stretched up and wrapped my arms around his neck, savoring the sensation of his body next to mine. We fit. In every way.

  “The fact you can toss around Latin like that makes me very turned on.”

  “I know how to seduce a linguist.”

  He kissed me until the room spun. Until I felt weak in my knees and could barely catch my breath. Then he looked down at me, enjoying my bemused expression. He bit his lip and gave me a sexy grin.

  “I think it’s time to remove the rest of your clothing.”

  I nodded, unable to form full sentences at this point, and watched as his big hands covered my breasts. I arched against him, wanting more. Thomas was more than willing to provide. He pushed down my bra and kissed them, stroking the sides and taking my nipples into my mouth. I felt it right between my thighs, as a rush of moisture made my panties wet.

  Thomas unhooked my bra and tossed it onto the chair with our other clothing. He kneaded my breas
ts, staring at them with undisguised admiration.

  “The most beautiful boobies I’ve ever seen. I swear it.”

  He seemed so completely and sincerely enthralled, I had to laugh. “Have you seen a lot of boobies?”

  “Enough to know these are spectacular.”

  He led me to the bed and pulled off the comforter, leaving nothing but the bare sheet. “Is it satin?”

  He reached out and touched it. “Aye. It is.”

  I lay down on the bed, stretching and enjoying the feel of the soft satin next to my heated skin. Thomas watched me, his eyes burning with desire. He climbed on top of me, resting on his forearms. His body hovered just above mine, not touching. He stayed there a long moment, staring at me, making me grow wet and hungry again just with one look.

  I circled my arms around his waist, wanting the weight of his body on mine. He gave me a little, but not all of it.

  “I don’t want to smush you,” he said.

  “I’m not easily smushed.” I spoke the words against his lips. Soon our kisses grew frantic, hot. He kissed his way down my body, ridding me of my panties in seconds. I pushed at his boxer briefs, wanting him closer. Wanting him inside me. Desperate for him.

  A pile of condoms had been conveniently left on the table next to the bed. Thomas grabbed the only one labeled “extra-large” and slipped it on. Then he positioned himself between my thighs, his tip just at my entrance.

  “Are you sure you’re ready, Sam? I don’t want you to do anything you’ll be sorry for tomorrow. I don’t want you to have regrets.”

  “The only thing I’ll regret is if you waste any more time. I need you, Thomas. Now.”

  I wriggled against him, demanding and hungry, and finally he complied, pushing into me gently. Slowly.

  I gasped. “You’re huge. Too huge. You aren’t going to fit.”

  He cupped my face with his hands, kissing me and stroking me until I relaxed. “It’ll be fine. You just need to get used to me. Ah, sweet Jesus. You feel so good.”

  He kept kissing me, caressing me. Distracting me with his hands and his tongue as he entered me. Soon he was all the way in, filling me completely. I looked up at him in surprise.