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“I don’t want to do something we’ll regret,” I blurted. “I shouldn’t stay.”
I could feel his gaze on my back. “So you didn’t regret it then, but you would now?”
I whirled around. “It’s different now. We’re both technically still in relationships. I mean, if you were single, that would be one thing. You’re still married.”
“I am.”
“The more I think about it, the more embarrassed I am about not saying anything that morning. The more angry I am. I was a coward for telling a lie, and you were a coward for not telling her. If we had said something, I would know for sure if all that pining had been worth it and just move on. Because even if we didn’t work out in the long term, I would have been able to call you mine just for a little while. I never moved on because something in me blocked it out. It prevented me from feeling how bad it hurt to see you with her. And it hurt. It devastated me. And here we are now in paradise, together, miserable.”
“If I was already divorced—”
“We’d already be in that giant bed back there,” I said, gesturing to the alluring and decadently fluffy mattress. “That thing looks so luxurious and comfortable, it’s practically obscene. And all I can think about now is wrapping myself around you until I can no longer feel my legs.”
Jason stood up and pointed to the bed, but steadily closed the distance between us. “That? It is very comfortable.” When he looked back at me, his blue eyes smoldered like they had that night, and I felt my resolve weaken. “You’d love it.”
“Stop it,” I said, but he was already so close to me. “This is a moment of weakness. Annie would be furious—”
“Annie’s not here. She chose to not be here.”
Thunder rumbled again, shaking the door I leaned against for support. The tremors radiated through me, thrilled me, and the forbidden nature of what we danced around was tantalizing to the point of torture. “No, she’s not,” I agreed. “And you are… separated.”
He hesitated a few steps from me, not close enough that I could feel his heat, but my body anticipated it in spite of the distance. I felt the color rushing up over my chest and neck. I remembered how I felt when his lips met mine, when they caressed my bare skin. It was like touching a plasma ball—all the hairs on my body stood up, skin tingled with energy. I found myself staring at the shape of his mouth.
“Cards on the table,” he said, still out of arm’s length from me. “I’ve always found you incredibly sexy, even when we first met. That morning, I don’t know what happened, really. It’s all kind of a blur. One minute you were there, then Annie’s there, and you were gone. But I will always regret that I didn’t stop you from leaving that day.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Do I want you right now? Hell yes. But if you want to hold back, I will respect that. I swear, no lines will be crossed if you choose to stay. I would of course take the couch to let you enjoy the splendor of that bed.”
“Please stop mentioning the bed,” I mumbled.
“I won’t stop you from leaving tonight if you think it’s too much of a temptation to stay. I get it. But it is pouring out,” he said as the rain crashed heavily on the roof, as if to remind me. “You’d be soaking wet before you reached the water’s edge.”
If only he knew, I thought, the slickness that covered the swollen mounds of my womanhood was already seeping through my underwear.
“It’s your decision,” he said.
Thunder crashed louder than ever outside the villa, as though the heavens themselves were shouting at me to choose. Weighing the circumstances in my head was dizzying. I wanted him. He was married. They were separated, probably going to divorce once he returned home. Fred didn’t know I was finished with him, so I would also be cheating on him. But did that matter? Of course it did; if the other party in a relationship doesn’t know the relationship is over, then it’s not over. Or was it? If Fred learned I’d cheated on him, he’d most likely end the relationship, anyway. I would just be ahead of the game, and would I be happier for it? Would we be happier?
Jason saw my struggle and finally closed the gap between us. “Would you stay if I asked you to?” he breathed.
His steely blue gaze held me steady. Years ago, I had the ability to resist my feelings for him, so I was unsure why I was suddenly so helpless in his presence. Of course, since our one night of passion, I never let myself be alone in close quarters with him. It was possible I was unconsciously protecting myself from this very thing. It occurred to me that not knowing the feel of his body on mine had been a firewall that allowed my senses to remain grounded. A firewall I had destroyed in one night, leaving me defenseless before him.
“Yes.”
He leaned forward, his cheek brushed against my cheek, his chest just barely touching mine, and he whispered into my ear, “Stay.”
Seven
Unbridled
“Stay.”
A shiver ran through me. I was drowning in desire for him. I turned my face towards his, and our lips met. His were firm and warm, cautious, but lustful. At once, I was twenty-one again, giddy, full of the libido of my youth. My heart was a hummingbird in my chest, thrumming in my temples, a high-pitched ringing in my ears. His caress along my arm sent a rush through me, my fingers tingling. Thrills raced over my skin, penetrated into my bones. What started as timid and reserved quickly escalated to a wanton disregard for anything else but each other. A fire ignited within me that I hadn’t felt in so long, it almost hurt. My desire grew exponentially with each rush of breath, each stroke of lip on lip. My fingers ran through his hair, over the back of his neck, drawing him closer and closer until there was no space left between us. His arms enveloped my waist, sliding over the gauzy fabric of my linen shorts, and I wanted nothing more than to take him inside myself.
He ended the kiss first, a few soft brushes of his lips against mine, and there we stood, breathless and embracing against the door of his villa. The ringing in my ears had been replaced by the pounding of my pulse, beating to the rhythm of my now lascivious greed. “Whoa,” I said unintentionally.
He smiled. “You’re sure?”
“No more talking,” I oozed.
He swept me up off my feet, my legs encircled his waist, and he carried me to the back of the room. Up the two steps of the dais, he dropped me on the bed—he was not lying about the softness, it was plush and amazing—and immediately tore off his top. I was taken aback. What appeared as the start of a good amount of weight in his torso was suddenly revealed to be much more of an impressive ‘dad-bod,’ if I understood the term correctly. Broad shoulders, a wide expanse of a chest that looked powerful, and a solidly firm stomach. It occurred to me that actually strong people didn’t always look like body builders. In fact, if I had to choose the physique I found most attractive, the contestants for Mr. Universe could hit the road, because I would always choose this. “My god, Jason. You need to stop hiding your physique under baggy clothes.”
