Page 88 of Promise Not To Fall

“I want you, Jake. Make love to me.”

Smiling, he reaches between us and moves my legs farther apart, watching my face the entire time. Trembling at the long-awaited touch, I relax when he fills me. It’s been so long since I felt this.

His tormented groan reminds me it’s been a while for him too. I think he wants to go slowly, but those first few moments after he enters are nothing like that. I’m so wet, and he’s so hard, it’s easy to get lost and just fuck.

“Oh, God,” he moans, his head dropping to my shoulder. He flexes forward, his hips shuddering as he does so. “It’s been so fucking long. So long….”

I’m caught up with his enthusiasm, moving with him in any way I can, curving into him. The way his hips rub and drag in all the right places, it’s like coming home.

“I missed you,” he says, grunting with each movement. “I missed you so fucking much.” His hands curl around my shoulders, pulling me into his movements. “I can’t… so warm….” His hips move languidly for a while.

Pressure builds into a sweet ecstasy. Goose bumps prickle across my skin from the sensations pouring over me. My head falls back, and his lips press against my damp skin, his breath warm as it flows against my neck. The scorching heat of his kiss leaves me weak, rubbery, and sedated as the waves wash over me. I stare up at the ceiling as he rocks himself back and forth, him holding on as I’m letting go.

My fingers dig into his concrete shoulders, arching helplessly against him. We come together, neither of us able to hold on any longer. He says something under his breath I can’t decipher, his body jerking in time with his release, his face buried in my shoulder.

I stroke his head as we lay there, the wind and rain howling outside, relentless and powerful.

“Jake…” I breathe, kissing his neck.

“Kiss me,” he whispers, gasping for breath as his body continues to shake, his long lashes lowering. “Kiss me….”

I do. I kiss him deeper than ever before, giving myself to him. I will always give myself to him. I have to. Now more than ever.

Handling me with care as my breathing slows and my shivers begin to calm, Jake blows out a long breath and eases his body from mine. Exhaling deeply, he slides off me and then pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing my face to lie on his chest.

“You’re Island Girl now,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

I laugh. “I guess I am.”

There’s no definition for what we are, and for once, I don’t need it. Not with Jake.

I fall asleep wrapped in Jake’s arms that night with the sounds of howling winds and unforgiving rain. The power is still out when I wake up, the candles long since burned out, but the lantern beside his bed is still on. It’s enough light for me to make out his profile. It takes me a minute to understand where I am, but the familiar scent of Jake’s body next to me and his weight are a nice reminder. His arm is around my waist, his breath against my neck.

I stare at the wall for a moment and then smile. Though I know it’s morning, his windows are boarded up, so I can’t see the destruction outside. I try to peek around the cracks in the boards, but can’t see much other than rain.

When Jake wakes up, he smiles and reaches for me, forcing me to lie back down with him. I do, and soon I’m fast asleep again in his arms.

Hours pass, the wind settles, and Jake asks if I want to go with him to check on the bar. The fear creeps in, knowing there’s no way it could have survived. It’s directly on the beach, and after being in that storm last night, I don’t think it can still be standing.

It’s gone. Nothing left but wreckage.

Every once in a while you lose it all, and you have to rebuild. You do because it’s the only way. There’s no guarantee in life. None. What you have today can be gone tomorrow. Everything.

That can’t have been more true than when we see what the storm has done to his parents’ bar. The wind has died down considerably, still present but not as persistent as it had been last night.

Jake’s face is pure devastation when he takes in the wreckage of what his family had built. All that remains is the deck.

I start crying, because that’s what I do these days, and Jake stares at the vintage beer sign split in two at his feet.

“I remember when they bought this sign.” A smile tugs at his lips, his voice tender, confused. “They picked it up at the same place we got that dress for you.” Turning his head, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Same place I got this too….” Reaching in the pocket of his shorts, he pulls out a necklace with a turtle charm and places it in my palm. He looks reflective, his brows drawing together hesitantly.

The sterling silver chain coils in my hand, the charm emerald surrounded by purple and pink. It’s beautiful. “You got this for me?”

Jake nods, his eyes on the ocean now. “It reminded me of when we watched the turtle lay her eggs.” Angry waves pound the shore, the water nearly at our feet. “My parents opened this bar on my fifth birthday,” he whispers, looking at the wet sand and pooled water at his feet. His head tucks down, his chin touching his chest as his lashes dance shadows on his cheeks. “I’ve celebrated every birthday since then on this very deck.”

I think our lives get destroyed so we can rebuild and make our dreams come true. It is fate’s way of letting you know something about the path you were on just wasn’t right.

“And I sat right here at sundown—” He swallows and turns his gaze to mine. “—hoping you’d come back. Part of me knew you would… someday.”

“You sat out here by yourself?” My voice is soft, the wind more than likely drowning out my voice. But he hears me. He always hears me.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you.” Then his voice is low, barely audible, like mine. “Have you?”

“No. I told you that.” I smile, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You kind of had a hold on me. Your whiskey sour set my soul on fire.”

Jake lets out a laugh, putting his arm around my shoulder. I watch his face light up, his hair blowing in the wind. “I knew my drinks would get you.”

“You got me, all right.”

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