Page 59 of When I Had You

“God, please move. It’s too much.”

“Since you put it so nicely . . .” I pull out and thrust back in. I kiss her neck and under her jaw, squeeze her tits, and fuck her like I don’t know her name. Her body writhes wildly under mine, chaotic in the bond as we both thrust together. But then she pushes me over and slides on top by straddling me.

Pressing her palms to my chest, she finds the stroke that feels too good to stop, and her eyes can barely stay open. I grab onto her ass, encouraging every grind and thrust as I watch her perfect tits bounce on her chest and feel the heat of her body taking over mine . . . “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait,” she says, panic striking her tone. The rocking slows down, every move both delicious torture and pushing me closer to the edge. When she finds her stride again, she leans forward, her touch light but nails sinking into my chest. She holds her breath, and under a curtain of her hair, she cries, “Oh God, yes. Yes. Oh yes.”

The sound of her pleasure and the grip of her body around my dick sends me careening off the cliff with her. I squeeze her hips and shove upward several times. “Fuck,” I shout, gritting my teeth right after until I hit that purgatory of peace found in the aftermath.

My body gives in, and I lie, eyes closed, with my arms spread wide. Marina cuddles to my side, her leg draping over my thigh. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer, reaching to kiss her. I’m met with welcoming lips and a blissful sigh.

We lie together in the quickening of our breaths until they regulate along with our heartbeats again. When I look and see her languid smile, my heart beats hard in my chest. I like this . . . this with her.

I like her.

She opens her eyes, her smile widening as she sees me already staring at her. Running her fingers along my temple and jaw, she says, “That was the best sex I ever had.”

I’m out of snappy comebacks or arrogant remarks. I’m stuck in the beauty of this woman and how easily she’s accepted me despite the rough beginning. I’m mad that I need to leave in less than seven hours to make my flight to France instead of having the privilege of waking up next to her. She feels so right. Her arms are where I belong, and she belongs in mine.

She kisses my shoulder. “I set you up for the perfect comment, and you say nothing?”

Choking down the words that would be utterly ridiculous to admit to her, I reply, “What can I say? It was the best sex of your life.”

I catch her little fist and bring it to my mouth to kiss. “And the best night of my life as well.”

17

Marina

I blink, hoping to make sense of where I am.

Closing my eyes again doesn’t help. So I open them and scan what’s in front of me. Everything is different—unfamiliar curtains hanging over a window I’ve never seen before. A blanket that’s so much more luxurious than mine in Vancouver and not blue like the one at my brother’s house where I stay in New York. Even the diffused sunshine trying to sneak in isn’t what I’m used to.

Except for the scent in the air. I snuggle the pillow a little tighter and take a deep inhale. Cash.

I roll over and prop myself up on my hands but find the bed empty beside me. “Cash?” I call, but I don’t hear a response, so I’m louder. “Cash?” I flip the covers up and tiptoe across the room to the bathroom. The door is wide open, same with the bedroom door that leads to the hall. “Cash?” It would be impossible for him not to hear me, which means I’m alone.

To confirm, I grab his shirt from the floor and put it over my head just before I enter the hallway. “Cash, are you here?” Nothing. “Huh.”

Standing at the window looking out, I wonder if I could spot him among the busy street from nine stories up. The sun is barely awake at this hour and hides behind clouds. The view of the water calms, though the white caps might foreshadow a storm later.

I move into the kitchen, searching for signs of Cash’s existence this morning, but I don’t find any. The coffee isn’t made, no dishes are in the sink, and the counters look clean except where a Post-it Note is stuck to it.

Where is he? Out for coffee? Grabbing bagels for us? Off to the next country to race? I have no idea, but I hope this note tells me. Otherwise, I’m going to feel like I imagined last night.

My body aches in ways that I haven’t ever felt—a little pain but wrapped in pleasure. I smile as I peel the note from the counter.

Last night was the best night.

Thanks for a great time.

Cash

I stare at the yellow paper for at least a minute before the words truly sink in. Thanks for a great time? That’s it? He’s not coming back?

No coffee?

No bagel?

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