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And at the end of the night, we walk hand in hand along a boardwalk, beyond content and teetering toward some stronger emotion.
At least on my end, I admit inwardly.I can only hope he feels the same.
The nearly full moon illuminates the calm water. Occasionally, a wave breaks against the sand. Brax pulls me into the crook of his strong arm, and I rest my head against his chest.
Now that we’ve left the table, however, Brax seems different. Quiet, introspective.
I let him brood, feeling a little sad myself that our night—even though it’s pushing midnight already—is probably coming to an end.
“Morgan,” Brax’s voice is gruff, as if he were controlling some deep emotion.
I look into his deep blue eyes, wishing I could read his mind just this once.
“Yes, Brax?”
“You know that I have to let you go.”
“I know,” I agree softly, my heart in my throat.
I’m surprised by my response. I thought for sure I’d have tears pouring out of my eyes or some sense of disappointment that he won’t come visit me. That this magical night is ending, and with it, whatever could have been.
But instead, I’m resigned. Somehow, I knew that Brax saying these words to me would be the outcome all along. That there is no way that I could dream up a perfect man without there being some hitch to the situation.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Brax continues.
My heart stirs.At least he’s giving me that. “Me neither,” I say breathily.
“But we both know this is how it’s going to be.”
I can only nod against him, unable—and unwilling—to agree.
“The thing is,” Brax says, stroking my hair as we both stare into the dark water in front of us. “I still want you. Damn, I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he grumbles.
My insides tighten at his admission. If one thing has remained true, it’s that I want Brax, too. Even if I only get to enjoy him fully this one time, before we part ways forever.
A romantic island fling that I can look back on when I’m an eighty-year-old spinster.
Brax continues to speak. “I shouldn’t want you because it’s not fair to you. I don’t want you to think that I’m just using your body or…”
The poor man sounds distressed and confused.
But his words, perfect words that reassure me of his intentions, spur me into action.
“I want you, too,” I tell him, reaching up to hold his face in my hands, just as he did for me last night. “I want you.Allof you, even if it’s all we’ll ever have with each other.”
He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t…” But he doesn’t fight my kiss. Instead, he leans into me, as if he’s a man drunk with need.
For the next several minutes, our bodies lock into a flurry of motion: hands seeking, finding, grasping. Tongues prodding, diving, seducing.
I slide the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders and Brax’s lips find my now-free nipple, holding me to him as he teases the pink mound.
“I want you,” I moan, grabbing his hair as he finds my other nipple and flicks his tongue against it.
“We shouldn’t,” he grinds out even as he cups my ass and pushes his rock-hard cock against me.
I pull away from him, looking for somewhere for us to go and complete what we both need.
“There.” I gesture to a secluded spot on the boardwalk, surrounded by dark trees. “Take me, there.”
