I want this kiss too much to do anything but return it in kind. I suck at his lower lip and explore his mouth with my tongue. His taste is new and familiar all at once.
My hands go into his hair and I hold him close. I’m afraid he might disappear—that this might prove to be a hallucination—but he’s solid under my hands. Water pours over us as we devour each other’s mouths, and my hands find their way from his hair to his shoulders, his chest, and finally down to the hem of his shirt.
His mouth leaves mine just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the shower floor. Then he’s stepping into me again. One leg between my thighs, he presses me against the wall as his mouth returns to mine.
His kiss is softer this time. Slower, sweeter, and less desperate. If he was feasting on me before, now he’s savoring me, and I let him. I savor him in return. The last sips of a precious bottle of wine, the last moments of a fleeting dream.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what this means for tomorrow or next week. Right now, I don’t care. I just need his hands on me, his taste on my tongue. I blindly grope for the button on his jeans. Releasing it, I shove them down his hips, and he kicks them away.
His hands grip my hips and he slides my body up the glass until my feet are off the ground and I’m resting on his thigh. The pressure is so perfect and so sweet. He rips his mouth from mine and moves to my neck as a hand cups my breast. I’m a mess of sensation and I don’t want it to end—the press of his thigh between my legs, the tease of his thumb against my nipple, the scrape of his mouth against my neck.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs.
Leaning my head back, I give up and let my eyes float shut. “What have you missed?”
“No, Hanna,” he growls. “Look at me. I want you to remember who’s touching you.”
I force my eyes open and am treated to the sight of his head dipping to my breast. “Oh God.” I should stop him. I shouldn’t let it go this far. We both know what this is. A stolen moment. An extended goodbye. But his teeth scrape my nipple, and instead of protesting, I’m arching into his mouth, urging him on.
He squeezes my breast and groans as he lifts his head and returns his eyes to mine. He flicks my earlobe with his tongue. “I’ve missed your taste.” He pinches my nipple between his fingers. “The way you cry out when I touch you.” He repositions me between himself and the wall until my thighs cradle the bulge of his erection. “I missed the heat of your pussy when you’re turned on.”
Then his mouth is on mine again, his hands tangling in my wet hair as he devours me.
“The plane?”
“It’s mine. It can wait.”
Eventually, we make our way out of the shower and dry each other with fluffy white towels. Then he takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. He slides under the covers with me. The frantic pace of the shower is gone and in its place is the steady beat of a grief-filled love song. He traces every line of my body with his fingers then his tongue. Love and need fill me so completely they hold together the pieces of my broken heart.
When Nate settles his head by mine on the pillow, his eyes are as tender as they are hot. “I have to let you go,” he whispers. “This has to be goodbye.”
My throat grows tight. “I know.”
I FELL asleep in his arms.
When I wake up again, the room is quiet. Nate is gone, his absence nearly tangible.
The covers smell like him. I can still feel the scrape of his beard against my skin. And despite this grief that makes my limbs feel heavy and my eyes gritty, I feel a sense of peace I haven’t in weeks.
I climb out of bed and pull on a robe before padding down the stairs and out to the patio. The sun is high in the sky, warming the air and reflecting off the surface of the pool. Crystal sun catchers hang from the awning and spin in the breeze, casting dapples of light into the shadows by the door.
I close my eyes and step into the sun, letting the light warm my cheeks.
Inhale. Exhale. Let go.
I’m going to be okay.
My head is clear, the fog of the last two days lifted. And with my clarity comes the understanding. I wish I could’ve had more time with Nate, yet I’m glad he had to go. He needed me to let him go. We needed to let go of each other. Holding on to him was hurting him as much as it was hurting me.
And Max…
I open my eyes and tilt my face to the sky. Fluffy white clouds roll across the endless sea of blue.
I can forgive Max. I love him too much to hold on to my anger. I can forgive him. But I can’t marry him. Maybe that will change with time, but I’m not going to ask him to live in limbo for me again. I have to let Max go too.
Canceling the wedding will break my mom’s heart, but I need to make this decision for myself, not her. And regardless of what I may have been thinking when I put on Max’s ring before my accident, regardless of what emotions or revelations I can’t remember, I’m not ready to get married. Not to Max. Not to anyone. I’m still figuring out who I am and where I fit into my world.