“Guess I haven’t learned my lesson about looking where I’m going,” I said lamely.
“I guess I didn’t wake you?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice making me quiver inside.
I shook my head. And then I turned, went to him, wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, and held him. Held him as tight as I could, as tight as I wished someone had held me. He hated me, had sent me away, but he was here now, and I would hold him as long as he’d let me.
At first he stood stiff, not moving, but I still held him, and after long minutes, he returned the embrace, tentatively at first, but then he held me tighter.
“I thought I would never see you again,” I said finally, not looking at him, my eyes closed as I listened to his heart beat, felt his strong chest against my cheek, took deep inhales of his scent.
“I thought so too,” he whispered.
Something in his voice made me step back, so I did, letting my gaze caress his face. He kept his eyes on mine, stepped closer, lifted his hand to my cheek.
“I still remember his hands on you, those bruises on your face,” he said, barely ghosting his thumb over my cheeks.
“They healed,” I replied.
He didn’t respond. Just stared down at me.
“Why are you here?” I asked a moment later.
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t want to think. Plan. I can’t anymore. But I hope you’re here for me. Hope that you’re here because you love me even a little bit as much as I do you.”
He glared down at me with his expression hard, but I thought I saw his eyes soften, however slightly, though maybe I was imagining it.
“I hate what you did, Lily. What you planned. But you’re all that matters to me. And as stupid as it is, as much as everything I’ve ever believed tells me that I shouldn’t be here, I can’t let you go. I love you, Lily.”
I had closed my eyes, but when he finished I let them drift open and I stared into his, not thinking of how we’d come together, of the pain and destruction, the sadness that had started it all, but instead of the joy that I felt with him, the way that he had reminded me that I was still alive.
“I love you too, Anton.”
Slowly he leaned forward and then brushed his lips over mine, barely touching, but the sensation enough to freeze the air in my lungs, to make my heart beat triple time with joy and not sorrow. It would be fleeting, but I would take it.
He dropped his hand to my waist, touching me as he had so often before he’d known of my betrayal. And more than anything I wished we could go back there, go back even further, before I’d decided to seek my revenge. Because if I had never known him, had never come to love him with all my heart, I would never have had to know the pain of losing him as I now knew I surely would.
My eyes locked with his, I stood on tiptoe and slowly moved forward, not allowing the slight frown on his face to deter me. He’d come here because I meant something to him, but his distance, defensiveness, was unmistakable. And though I’d rarely been so bold with him, if I didn’t try to bridge the seemingly unbridgeable divide that separated us, he wouldn’t.
And so I moved in increments, the moment passing in what felt like slow motion. I put my hand on his side, bracing myself against him, and then I pressed my lips against his smooth jaw, eyes open as I looked to gauge his reaction. He firmed his lips into a thin line, seemingly displeased.
But he didn’t pull away, didn’t do anything to break our contact, and I clung to that piece of information, used it to fuel me. I kissed him again softly, and then, on an exhale, kissed him again and again, moving closer to his lips with each kiss. When I reached his mouth, I moved back ever so slightly, close enough that I could feel his breath against me, the ghost of his lips against mine.
“Lily,” he whispered, the sound of his voice both hopeful and broken, a perfect reflection of what I felt.
“Anton,” I replied, whispering as softly and reverently as he had.
And on the next breath, I pressed my lips against his, sighing at the contact, only realizing when I touched him how much I had missed him.
How much I would miss him when I was gone.
The thought filled me with urgency, urgency that I poured into that kiss, along with every declaration of love I would never be able to utter. As I kissed him, he kissed me back, let his hands roam my body as if he wanted to touch all of me.
He grabbed either side of my head and held me still, stroking his tongue inside my mouth, his movements not the calm, controlled Anton I had come to love. In this moment, he was driven, possessed by the same urgency that filled me, and I gave myself over to it, offering myself to him the best I knew how.