Page 121 of The Choices I've Made
He didn’t say it, but the words hung there, in the air like a puff of smoke.
Leave my hometown. Leave my family and career, everything I’d ever known, for the one thing I’d always wanted.
Him.
All I had to do was say yes.
I could see the light and excitement burning bright in his eyes. The word was right there on the tip of my tongue.
But I couldn’t do it.
So, instead, I kissed him.
I kissed him hello and good-bye, all at once. In that kiss, I gave him my heart and my soul and whatever else I had left.
He took ahold of my sadness, mistaking it for enthusiasm. With his hands on the sides of my face, he kissed me back just as passionately.
And, as tears of loss fell from my eyes, tears of joy fell from his.
I should have stopped it.
I should have told him it was the end.
But I was greedy and hurting and clinging to every moment I had, still wrapped up in his embrace. So, for a few more minutes, I let him believe in the possibility of forever while I let myself drown in certainty of our tragic end.
His smell, his taste, and the warmth of our bodies moving together.
We took our time in undressing each other. We used the moon as our night-light, the lazy waves as our music, and the grass as our bed. I let my head fall back, savoring every sensation of his lips as they left a wet path everywhere they touched.
Somewhere in the midst of our passion, our eyes met. His full of hope, mine void of any. He saw the truth in my eyes, the words I had yet to say.
“Molly, no,” he whispered, the hope draining from his eyes like a sieve.
My tears turned into tortured sobs as he pulled me closer, tightly squeezing me against him.
“I can’t let you go,” he said, stroking my hair between his fingers. “I won’t do it.”
Pulling back, I could see the conviction, the determination, the zeal in his eyes. If he couldn’t convince me with words, he’d do so with his body.
And, God help me, I’d let him.
Spreading me wide, his hands caressed every part of me. From the hollowed recesses of my collarbone to the tender flesh of my thighs, he made sure he left his mark everywhere.
Like a brand.
If only he knew I’d been his and his alone from the moment we met and every second thereafter. Even when it’d hurt.
No, especially when it’d hurt.
Because that was when I had known it was real. It was in those dark hours, when I’d cursed his name for not loving me enough to stay, that I had known it was true love and not some silly high school crush I’d eventually get over.
What existed between us was undeniable, and no matter how much it’d hurt to watch him walk away, I knew the happy moments we shared, it made all the pain worth it. It made it all worth it.
When our bodies joined this time, for the very last time, I closed my eyes and relished the feel of him inside me.
The power of every thrust.
The pleasure of each caress.
