Page 80 of Lady Sings the Blues

“Then trust nothin’ will happen. This is just precaution.”

“But what if—”

He cuts me off. “What if my aunt had balls? Then she’d be my uncle.”

“I just love you so much, Beau,” I whisper against his throat.

Thankfully the doors open for us, although I stare straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with the witnesses to my emotional breakdown.

“Lucky bastard,” I think I hear Crass mutter as we exit. But that’s as much as either of them say about it.

Liv unlocks the door inviting the three of us inside her home. It’s a beautiful space, midcentury modern. Decorated in mushrooms. I love it. As much as I’d love to admire the space for a moment, Beau excuses us, leading me by the hand down a narrow hallway.

Yes, Beau knows exactly where he’s going and where he’s going is Livvy’s guestroom. What I expect is frantic, throw me on the bed, hardcore ‘I’m not going to see you for a few days and I’m angry this asshole Houdini is putting you in danger’ fucking. What I get is so far from that. So the opposite. I’m not flung. I’m scooped gently into his arms as he kicks the door closed with his foot. Then I’m even more gently laid across the bed, my hair spreading out over my pillow as if he’s staging a perfect memory to get him through.

When he moves his body over mine, it’s a slow, deliberate glide. And then…and then he takes my face in his large hands, stroking the apples of my cheeks with his calloused thumbs, the fingers on each hand holding against my neck and ears. He tilts my chin up just enough to capture my lips in a full, deliciously deep kiss. Again, nothing frantic. So much can be read from a kiss. And up ‘til now I thought he’d already given me his best kisses.

I was wrong.

If a picture can be worth a thousand words, this kiss has to be worth a million, all of them expressing, “I love you…you are my life” in a way saying the words never could.

Message received. Message so damn received, emotion clogs my throat and tears sting the corners of my eyes. Not sad like in the elevator. These tears emanate from some other emotion, altogether, and it’s altogether overwhelming. We are the air and trees, neither good without the other. We are the embodiment of need and love.

Slowly, and only breaking the kiss when he has to, to lift my T-shirt up over my head, but resuming the beautiful torture the moment the hem clears my lips, Beau undresses me. In the time since our reunion we’ve had all kinds of sex. From kinky fucking, to hardcore banging quickies. We’ve made love. But this—this has that something special which cannot be labeled. This something I’ve never until this moment known existed. Nothing short of the most beautiful, touching moment of my entire twenty-three years. So beautiful, so touching, I’m unsure if I’ll ever feel a moment like it ever again.

As he loves me, because there’s really no other word for it, as he loves me with kisses and our bodies connected, the buildup he builds within me can’t be described. Not as a tightening coil, or as a raging fire or even a slow burn. I’m at a loss for how to describe it, but just know it’s there building between us, for me, for us. Giving me the chance to process every emotion he’s communicating and giving me the chance to answer back.

When I finally hit my breaking point and tumble over the edge, I feel him filling me as he tumbles right along with me. And as I fall, it’s not on a scream of his name or a shout out to the Lord Almighty, but on a whispered gasp, concealing a promise. And it’s nothing short of the greatest orgasm given by anyone in the history of orgasms. Of this, I’m sure.

Beau still doesn’t speak, so neither do I. He rolls over, keeping his hand at my backside. He keeps us connected. We lay on our sides, my leg hitched up over his hip, face to face, chest to chest.

“You need me to pull out?” he whispers, finally breaking the silence.

Still too raw with emotion, I shake my head. I need to feel our connection for as long as possible.

“Good,” is all he answers. Then the room falls quiet again.

Well before I’m ready for it, a soft knock resonates against the door followed by Livvy’s soft voice. “Boss, Chaos is on my phone. He says he needs to speak with you right away. Says there’s been a development. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks. “Yeah, I’m comin’.”

He shifts pulling out of me, disconnecting us. Yet instead of letting go, I hold on tighter.

“Darlin’.” He coaxes my arms loose, or at least tries.

“Beau,” his name hiccups through my lips on a sob.

“Shh…it’s all gonna be fine, baby girl.”

“I know. Or I should know…it’s just…my head understands it’s just temporary. So then why does my heart feel like we’re really saying goodbye?”

The pain which shoots over his handsome face, he doesn’t need or deserve. How do I stop the way I feel, though? Nonetheless, he extracts himself from my hold as gently, as always, as possible, kissing my fingers at the knuckle before dropping my hand completely.

We both dress and when he leaves, I follow closely behind.

Even worse than the knowledge that my Beau will be leaving me is the pity stares from Liv and Crass directed solely at me, and hits square in the gut. Thus, they become the hardest looks to stomach at the moment. They become the hardest to stomach because at the moment, without a word spoken, I know our trip to Chicago has turned into more than a couple of days. Damn my instincts. My heart knew. Now the rest of me does, only to be confirmed even further by the blank look Beau targets my way as he listens to whatever Chaos has to say on the other end of the phone.

And the minute he hangs up, in two steps, I’m once again held in the arms I hope to be held in for the rest of my life, however long that might be.

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