“Yeah.” He gives me a squeeze. “Yeah, it was.”
The temptation remains to stay in bed. To ignore the clock ticking away the minutes and pretend that the sun hasn’t risen and shoved our deadline in our face. I force myself to sit up. “I should, uh, book my flight.” I grab my phone and pull up the airline’s app. It takes a few minutes to find an afternoon flight and book it and then I’m left staring at my screen. “I should get going. I like to be at the airport early.”
“Blake.”
I look at my, my heart in my throat. “Yeah?”
But Jonas just shakes his head. “Nothing. You should eat before you go.”
How am I supposed to eat when my stomach is tied in knots? I try for a smile, but it feels strange on my face. “I’m a nervous flyer, so I’d rather not.”
“Oh. Right.” He sits up, too. “I’ll, uh, go warm up your car.”
I sit there and watch him pull on a pair of pants and walk out of the room without looking back. This is goodbye, but he’s still taking care of me in his own way. My chest hurts. It feels like I’m caught in some machine bent on crushing the life out of me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I dress quickly. It feels like I’m a different person than the one who showed up here Friday evening, determined to convince Jonas to work with me. I head downstairs, still feeling ill at ease in my skin.
I don’t want to leave. I can admit that to myself, even if I can’t admit it aloud to Jonas. But trying to stay longer will just put off the inevitable. I live in California. Jonas’s home is in Washington. No matter how much he likes fucking me, he’s still got a stick up his ass about our age difference. There are so many barriers to this being anything more than a weekend fling.
Mainly that Jonas doesn’t want it to be more than a weekend fling.
He meets me in the living room as I dig through my purse to make sure I have everything. I hate how awkward we’re being with each other. I try again for a smile. “I’m terrible at goodbyes.”
“Me, too.” He closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms. “This will have to do.”
He kisses me. Maybe it was supposed to be a brief one, but nothing is ever simple with us. I drop my purse and dig my hands into his hair. He grabs my ass and yanks me tighter to him. I don’t know who moves first. It might be me. I fumble to shove down his pants and he’s pulling up my skirt and lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. And then he’s wedging that giant cock into me for the last time, working me down his length. For the first time, we fuck without speaking a single word.
What is there to say? This is goodbye and we both know it.
Jonas turns and takes a few steps so he can brace me against the wall. He takes my mouth in long, drugging kisses as he drives into me. Like he wants to imprint himself on every fiber of my being. I could tell him that ship has already sailed, but I’m too busy trying to clutch him to me, to get as close as possible, to take him deeper yet.
It’s over far too soon. I come with a cry that he swallows down and then he’s following me over the edge, pumping me full of his goodbye. He gentles the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. “Miss me a little?”
I drag in a ragged breath. “I’m going to miss you a lot.”
“Me, too.” He pulls out of me and carefully sets me back on my feet. Jonas gives me one last kiss and steps back. “Drive safe.”
I adjust my clothing, taking too long while I fight down the absurd urge to cry. “I will.”
I make it to the door when his voice stops me. “Baby girl.” I glance over my shoulder to find him watching me. “You’ll figure out the business stuff. Give yourself a little grace and trust your instincts.”
Damn it, now I really am going to cry. “Goodbye, Jonas.”
“Bye, Blake.”
It’s over for real.
23
The next week passes in a blur. I decide to take Jonas’s advice to heart and put my all into doing things my way. Or maybe I just keep myself busy to avoid going back to my empty apartment and the onslaught of memories from last weekend. The inside of my head is a messy place right now, and I can’t begin to count how many times I pick up my phone to text Jonas and then put it back down again. He gave me the weekend. Wanting more is greedy and unfair. It’s better to let things end now, while they’re good, than to continue to throw myself at him and force him to reject me. Again.