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“That’s right,” he says through the sounds of our bodies slapping together. Then he reaches out and grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. “And that’s my fucking baby too, isn’t it?”
Heat swells inside me. And there isn’t a moment of hesitation as I cry out, “Yes.”
“I’m the one who fills you up, Miss Green,” he says as I move faster. “I am the one who makes you come.”
My second climax hits me like a train—this one overwhelming and intense. It’s like pleasure from the inside out.
As I’m screaming through the orgasm, Luke thrusts upward once, then twice, and stills as he empties himself inside me. His groans mingle with mine until we look and sound and feel like one.
When all is said and done, I collapse on his chest, pressing my face in his neck and breathing him in. My heart swells and beats against his.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind now.
I love this man. Against all odds, I fell in love with the one person I wasn’t supposed to.
And I think he did, too.
But loving him doesn’t mean getting to keep him. In this case, loving him means eventually letting him go.
Thirty-Two
Lucas
Sadie rests in my arms for so long that I think she’s fallen asleep. Her warm breath tickles my neck, and I don’t have it in me to move her, no matter how much I want to kiss her again.
It’s almost ironic how much more intimate a kiss is than what we’ve already done together. But it was so much more than a kiss. It was a vow. A declaration. It spoke volumes more than words ever could. More poetic than the most eloquent sonnet ever written.
Kissing her erased every shred of doubt in my mind. I love her.
I love her in a way that makes me think I’ve never loved anyone or anything before.
I love her in a way that makes me think I can have both. I can keep my job. I can go to England. I can do something important. I can make something of myself and still have her.
Eventually, she lifts her head from my chest and stares down at me sleepily with a happy smile on her face. Then she leans in and presses her soft pink lips to mine.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper when our kiss ends. She climbs from my lap and grabs a tissue from the table to clean up. Then I stand from the couch, taking her hand as I guide her back to my room. I quickly pull off my clothes and throw them into the laundry basket before climbing into bed next to her.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, she rolls closer, resting her head on my arm and draping her leg over me. When we lie together like this, I wonder how I went so long without her or how I thought I was going to live without her after this.
We kiss for a while longer, like a couple of teenagers, and it’s not rushed or heated. It’s kissing for the sake of kissing. When she finally pulls away, she rests her head on the pillow next to mine, staring into my eyes.
Softly, she asks, “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really think we can make this work?”
I run my fingers through the soft red strands of her hair. “I’m not sure there’s any other choice,” I reply.
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” My voice trails as I let out a sigh. I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling, which is ironic for someone who expresses a lot in writing, literature and poetry. I should be good at this. “I mean, I tried desperately to not want this. But I do. I want you. I want us, and I think we can make it work. I think if we try…I think if we really work at it.”
“So you’re still going?” she asks.
“Of course,” I reply instantly. “I have to go, Sadie.”
The expression on her face isn’t entirely disappointed, but not hopeful either. It’s somewhere far too neutral for my comfort. I can tell there are thoughts worrying in her head that are too complicated to express. But I’m giving as much as I can.
“Okay.” She nods gently. “We’ll make it work.”
I lean forward and capture her lips again because speaking doesn’t seem to work as well for me.
