Page 22 of The Loves We Lost
His lips crush mine, and my tongue seeks out his. Tears sting my eyes at the familiarity of it. It’s hard to reconcile the way my body feels in his care with the emotions that threaten to break free.
I wanted him to choose me.
I hate that he didn’t.
I’m not sure I even wanted to break up with him. But when he told me he wouldn’t quit the club, I realized I’d always be his second thought.
For one night, I can take myself back to the place where it was just the two of us. Especially when he breaks our kiss, smooths my hair back from my face, and cups my cheek.
His eyes are glued to mine.
Neither of us says a word, but I can’t look away as he continues to thrust into me. It’s a reminder of every single thing I let go of.
He shakes his head, as if to tell me whatever I’m thinking isn’t possible.
I know it isn’t.
But that doesn’t stop my body from responding to his. Every stroke weaves us closer together. Every withdrawal reminds me of what it will feel like when this is over. Later, when I shower and rinse the scent of him from my body one last time, I know I’ll feel bereft again.
When I drive home and leave this place and this memory here.
His hand snakes between us, and I gasp as he strokes my tender clit. The sensations are too much. I flinch, my back arches, and Miles removes his hand and grabs my breast.
He begins squeezing and kneading it in between rubbing his thumb over my nipple and pinching it. He’s remembered what it does for me.
Which is wild because I’d forgotten.
Skin slides against skin.
“Miles,” I whisper and cup his cheek.
How can I not get caught up in what we once were to each other?
“You better come soon, buttercup,” he says. His words are raw, but the glimmer of a memory comes to me—we’re in a field with little yellow buds around us.
Buttercup.
God, how I loved this man.
My orgasm, when it hits, is weaker the second time around, but more painful.
When Miles joins me, when he gasps my name on a puff of air against the side of my neck, I feel ripped apart.
I wrap my arms tightly around him, holding him close. I’ll take the memory of being held this way with me. Knowing this is my last night with him, I take in the scent of him, inhaling deeply. I pay attention to the way he comes, the way he loses control of this rhythm, the way he stops, deep inside me, and I feel his cock pulse inside my opening.
And I wonder if we’ve made a sibling for Avery, even as I feel a flicker of guilt for keeping her from him.
Because I can’t bear a life where he’s in hers but not mine.
And the thought at putting either of my children at risk in his world makes my chest ache.
I slide my fingers through his hair. It’s longer than I remember, but just as soft. “I forgot how good it was between us.”
Miles pops himself up onto one arm and runs a thumb across my lips. It’s a tender moment, and my breath gets caught in my throat.
“Don’t get used to it. I’ll be gone in hours. You still like pizza?” he asks as he climbs off me, the action and his words leaving me cold.
“Sure.”
