Page 81 of Loud Unspoken Memories

She snuggles close. “I know we have to get up. But I don’t want to.”

“We have a minute.”

I lift her chin. Our lips come together. We kiss so thoroughly and possessively, I know this will be the one I remember most. I let my hands wander every inch of her soft curves. When her fingers explore my abs, my skin crackles with heat and anticipation thickens the air in my lungs.

Despite how many times we’ve done this, I’m hardening quickly. I groan in raw appreciation when she encircles my cock with her hand. I latch tightly to my control, using every ounce of willpower to keep from coming. Because our time is short, and I do not plan on wasting my final orgasm in her hand.

Just before the point of no return, I arch away from her, take a few seconds, then use my fingers and tongue on every crevice of her body, making her come twice before sinking myself into her one last time.

Our eyes connect, right along with the rest of us, conveying a million unspoken words neither of us will say. We bathe in each other’s electrified stare as I maintain a slow steady rhythm. Her palms flatten against my back, holding me close. Her breath whispers across my neck when she groans my name. I chronicle every moan. Every quiver. Every thrust of her hips. I burn all of it into my memory, putting it inside a box that I can open after she’s gone.

We orgasm together, pleasure ripping me apart as if my body knows this will be the last one we share. I collapse down on top of her, burying my face into her shoulder. The words almostcome out. I’m dangerously close to asking her to stay. But that would be selfish. Not to mention impossible.

She has a life. A son. An existence I could never fit into.

Still… I almost ask. I almost ask because it’s a want as strong as any want I’ve ever had.

I roll to the side. Without words, she sits up, wraps a blanket around her, gathers her clothes, and heads to the bathroom. She pauses before closing the door and looks over her shoulder, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Dallas Montana.”

She smiles, even through her tears, as if I’ve given her something she needed. As if even though we aren’t going to see each other again, she’s grateful for the time we had. As if she wouldn’t take it back, even knowing how it would end up.

The door closes.

My head falls back onto my pillow.

“Fuck.”

~ ~ ~

When she comes out of the bathroom, she stops cold and looks out the window. That’s when I hear it—the distant rumble of the snowplow clearing my street.

We look at each other, neither of us saying anything. What is there to say?

She’s all business. She packs her clothes into my backpack. I don’t say a word when she stuffs my Yale hoodie in and zips it up tight. She plays with Bex. She makes lunch. I look down at the plates somehow feeling this is like The Last Supper.

I get out a bottle of wine.Thebottle.

Her brows leap skyward. “You are not opening that one.”

I stab the cork with the screw. “Too late.” I pour her a glass, then me. I hold my glass high. “To a hell of a ten days.”

She taps hers to mine. “There’s no one I’d rather have been snowed in with.”

We stare at each other over the rims of our glasses as we drink the most expensive bottle Montana Winery produces.

“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she makes the same noises she makes when she comes. “This is without a doubt the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” Then she shakes her head and laughs. “Okay, maybe second best.”

Now I laugh, too. Only Martina Alexandra Carver could make me laugh when she’s moments away from walking out of my life.

She’s walking out of my life. The words sting like a thousand bees. So much so that I can’t stop what comes out of my mouth next. “I think I should drive you to Anita’s.”

Marti’s eyes snap to mine and she all but chokes on a bite of food. “Um… what?”

“I’ll drive you. It’s ridiculous for you to rent a car to drive ninety minutes when I have a perfectly capable one.”

“You want to drive me.”

It’s not a question. More of a musing.

---