Page 100 of Happy Hour

I wanted to but the words wouldn’t form. Or they would and my lips wouldn’t speak them. What was I going to do, tell him the truth?

No, that was just ridiculous.

There were times when he had tried to tell me something as well but didn’t, his words or thoughts falling short.

Jameson’s mouth moved from my own, spreading kisses over my jaw and against my neck before he pulled back to look at me, his left hand moved from my behind my knee to rest against my cheek. Unnerved by the tears forming in my eyes that this was going to end in less than three days, I turned away, watching the flickering of the candle.

How could I have let myself fall like this?

Where did the time go?

Those three weeks, well they were days now. And soon these days were going to be hours followed quickly by minutes, then seconds and before I knew it, my time in this fairytale I’d been living would be over.

And then what? What would any of this mean to him?

“Sway...honey,” his low timbre drew my attention towards him, his nose brushing over my jaw.

Slowly, I turned my head to meet his gaze.

When he saw the tears streaming down my cheeks, I felt him take a sudden intake of breath. Without saying the words, those tears told him exactly what I couldn’t. They told him exactly how I felt.

They told him this wasn’t just friends with benefits for me anymore, it never was. They told him what all these years as friends had been leading to. Those years and these last three weeks led up to this. I was in love and there was absolutely no way I could be “just friends” with him anymore.

I meant it when I said there was no going back. There just wasn’t.

As though he could hear the unspoken thoughts, he nodded his head once, his thumb sweeping over a tear, brushing it away.

I jumped in his arms when the thunder cracked, the wind picked up, pelting the window with rain. Just like the change occurring within us, the storm was changing, gaining speed.

“Please don’t cry,” he begged kissing my lips. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his hands trembling as they caressed me. The trembling reminded me of the first night together in Charlotte, though this was entirely different now. “I’m sorry...I’msofucking sorry.” He said again, his hand moved slowly down my chin to my neck and traced over my collarbone, his eyes still locked on mine.

I couldn’t look away—his eyes betrayed the depth of his emotion and I saw it then, it changed for him too.

Leaning forward, his lips pressed to my neck, his warm breath flowing across my skin. “Non volevo cadere nel miele amore, mi dispiace,” He whispered with an Italian accent he’d perfected over the years.

I moaned as he opened his damp mouth on my throat and pressed his teeth deliberately into the flesh, taking a hard, sucking bite.

Goose bumps shivered over my skin at the sensation. My head fell back as he ran his open, wet mouth down my throat and along my collarbone. Following the path his fingers had just taken, teeth nipping and tongue lapping in their wake. I threw my head back, overwhelmed by the feel of his luscious body on mine.

Gripping his concrete shoulders, my fingers dug into the hard flesh. I ran them down to caress his biceps as they flexed with his weight.

Lifting up, I pressed my mouth to side of his neck, licking and biting my way across the swell of his deltoid to the firm curve of his shoulder. He turned his head and met my mouth, our tongues tangling and wild. He was worshipping me, with his hands and his mouth; nothing was escaping his slow thorough, focused attention. The release and relief was intense my body melting into him.

“Sway,” he whispered. His lips were strangely urgent against mine.

Weak and rubbery with pleasure and satisfaction, my mind couldn’t comprehend his intensity. He ran his long fingers along my damp cheekbone, the trembling in his fingertips brought my eyes open with a snap.

He was looking down at me, his features hardened with tension. I moaned and he shuddered in response, closing his eyes and rocking his hips against mine.

“Oh god, Sway,” His head fell against me just as he flexed forward. Running my hand down the long line of his back, his entire body seemed to react with more trembling. “I can’t...I’m...”

Again, he didn’t finish his goddamn words.

Despite my sedated rubbery feeling, it was really starting to irritate me that he just wouldn’t finish his words. That and him speaking in Italian, knowing damn well I don’t speak Italian.

It took me four years to learn two words in Spanish so deciphering Italian wasn’t in my immediate future.

“Jesus Christ...the way you move...”

---