I hung up with Quinn and met Jesse in the kitchen. He was leaning on the counter, arms straight and supporting him as he leaned forward. His shoulders were tense, and his posture reminded me of a brief moment when he’d obviously been lost in a world of Carly and Allison and painful memories the night we’d made chicken marsala.
When he heard me come into the room, he glanced up at me. His eyes had taken on the haunting again, and my heart broke for him.
I knew that my presence alone calmed his nerves. I knew that my love for him helped him to cast his demons aside. What I didn’t know was how I was going to be what he needed when I couldn’t have any contact with him. And knowing that I couldn’t be there for him hurt just as much as knowing that he couldn’t be there for me.
“I just want to hold you. I just need to feel you against me,” he whispered, his eyes locked and heated on mine.
Fuck it. For the second time that night, I truly felt like if we were being accused of having an affair, we might as well actually be having one. I wanted nothing more than to feel Jesse’s skin on mine, to savor his entrance into my body, to writhe in pleasure beneath him, to taste every part of him under my tongue.
But I didn’t want my first time with Jesse to be based in some scandal. I wanted it to be based in our mutual love.
So we climbed into what had become our bed together for the last night until we could be together again. The worst part was just not knowing when that would be.
Jesse stripped down to his boxer briefs. Typically I wore a t-shirt and pajama pants to sleep, but I wanted to feel as much of Jesse’s skin against me as I could, so I wore a silky, skimpy tank top and matching silk panties.
When I exited the restroom after getting ready for bed, Jesse was already there, leaning back against the headboard. His perfectly sculpted washboard stomach called my name.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “If you’re going to wear shit like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself,” he said, not hiding a quick readjustment under the sheets.
I chuckled, the first sign of a smile since we’d arrived home and turned on our phones.
“I miss being off the grid with you,” I whispered.
“Come here,” he commanded softly.
I obeyed.
I turned off the light and then got in bed beside him, and he pulled me close as we both lay back. My head was on his chest, and his fingertips found the hem of my tank top and pulled upward so his hand rested on the bare skin of my back. He stroked my skin with a rhythmic pattern that was reassuring and soothing.
“No matter what happens, V, promise me something.”
“Anything,” I whispered.
“We’ll still have our night. In June, when school’s out and none of this shit matters anymore, and your divorce is finalized, we’ll still have our night.”
“I promise,” I said.
“I promise, too.” He sealed his promise with a kiss to my forehead. I leaned up and his lips found mine, and suddenly we weren’t talking about June anymore as his tongue swirled against mine and he deepened our kiss. It started out innocently, and then he moaned and I almost lost control as my body ached for him. We shifted on the bed, and I found myself beneath him. His hand ran down my side, past my hip, to my thigh as he hovered above me, kissing me like his life depended on it. His fingertips stroked the skin of my leg and moved around toward my ass, and then he ran his hand back up and landed on my hip as our mouths collided. He pushed his hips down into mine just as I arched mine up into his.
When our time finally did come, it was going to be incredible.
I felt his hot hardness against my hot wetness, and I wanted him inside of me in that moment. The throbbing between my legs was unbearable as every part of me wanted every part of him. I craved that skin to skin contact with him, for our last barrier of clothes to be removed so we could make love slowly and sensually until we were both satisfied and then go at it again and fuck until we were both screaming out in pleasure.
June, I reminded myself. It was only three months away. We could do this.
He groaned into me and abruptly stopped our kiss.
“God dammit,” he muttered, lying back on his pillow and panting as I fought to catch my own breath. His arm was back around me as he pulled me closer into him, and I cuddled into his side with my head in the crook of his neck, my lips millimeters from his warm skin.
Neither of us moved for a moment, and then in the stillness and darkness with both of us breathless, Jesse whispered, “I love you so fucking much.”
His arm tightened around me, and I kissed his neck, filled with love for this man that Richard was tearing from me. The devastation of knowing that I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep in his arms the next night, or the night after that, for who knew how long, filled me with dread.