I was wracked by a terror all at once, as my tongue stroked in the soft curves of her mouth. I couldn’t possibly lose her again. Not after this. Not after this union, this perfect joining we had just shared.
“It was just like it used to be,” I gasped against her lips. “I won’t make the same mistake twice, I swear. This is too perfect. There’s no denying it.”
Michelle broke the kiss. I hugged her close, but I felt her withdraw from me. Just as I had felt like I was touching her very soul, I knew now that she was separating from me. She wanted to pull back. I loosened my hold on her and she slid off my lap and got up. She picked up her dress and put it back on. I watched her in something like misery. I realized I couldn’t hear the storm anymore, that even the dryer had stopped. She went and got my clothes and gave them to me.
“Thank you,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said a little stiffly.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“You just, ended that really suddenly. I know the storm is over but this was a long time coming.” I pulled on my clothes and slicked back my hair that was messy from her hands. Five minutes ago I’d been thrusting my bare cock inside her, and now I felt further away from her than ever. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. “I don’t want you to think this was a moment of weakness or something. I’m not going to backpedal and regret this. I hope you don’t either.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated again.
Again with the two-word answers.
Her phone rang and she grabbed it. I watched her face and heard her say, “Oh my God, no.”
I went to her instinctively and put an arm around her, tucked her against my side. She let me, shaking her head. She hung up. Woodenly, without even looking at me, she said, “I have to get to the library. There’s a lot of damage.”
“Okay. I’m parked behind you. I’ll drive you. Maybe I can help.”
“Okay,” she said.
We went up the stairs. She told me where the guest bathroom as so I could clean up. “I’ll be three minutes,” she said, dashing up to the top floor.
True to her word, she was back, cleaned up and hair pulled back, very quickly. She hurried down the stairs and picked up her purse.
“I’m ready, if you still want to drive me. You don’t have to,” she faltered. She was ninety percent business right now. She was ten percent wobbly and insecure. I could see it in the tremor of her lower lip. I stepped closer and folded her in my arms and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m right here as long as you want me here, Chel.”
“Don’t say stuff like that. Please,” she said, a catch in her voice. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but I knew she needed to concentrate on the library, on whatever damage there was and how to handle it. We got in my truck in the sprinkle of rain that continued. I was surprised when she scooted across and sat beside me. I wanted to put my arm around her, but I didn’t. If she wanted the comfort of my arm against hers and silence, I could give her that. I wanted to push for more. I wanted to promise I’d protect her; I’d fix whatever was wrong. That she didn’t have to worry about a thing. But I’d taken away her choices before. I wouldn’t try to decide anything for her. I could back off, just a little. Even though I was looking at her flushed cheeks, at her lips, bruised from my kisses. After four years together and then eighteen apart, we’d come back together, had fucked twice in as many hours. I wanted more. I wanted all of it. But if I could wait eighteen years I could be patient a little longer.
She had a crisis to face, and I was damn lucky she’d let me be by her side when she faced it.
“Did they say how much damage?” I said, prompting her to open up.
“Major,” she said quietly.
“We’ll be there in just a second,” I said trying to reassure her. Like the woman didn’t know how close the library was to her own house. Real smooth, Drew, I thought ruefully. So comforting. Point out the short distance until we reach the parking lot. That’ll make her feel better. I rolled my eyes at myself. It was awkward, she was distracted about the library, and I kept tripping over myself trying not to say the wrong thing. All I’d done was the wrong thing, all this time, and it seemed crucial that I stop making things worse at this point.