Page 99 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
“You want to talk about it?”
It was such a lame question — cliché and overused. In reality, I think I already knew what my next move would be, but I buffered it first.
Jamie spun his empty glass. “No.”
His voice was thick, and I simply nodded, already knowing that would be his answer. I wanted him to talk, to tell me everything running through his mind, but I knew that wasn’t what he needed right then. What he needed was to escape, and I knew exactly how.
Fingering through my clutch, I fished out enough cash to cover both of our tabs, dropping it on the bar as I stood and drained the rest of my drink. My stomach flipped as I flicked down my spare hotel room key next. It landed right next to Jamie’s hand, and I didn’t wait for his reaction, just turned and walked casually to the elevators.
My heart raced as the elevator shot me up to my room, and my hands were already shaking when I slid my own key into the slot and let myself in. I tried to tell myself I didn’t know for sure that he’d come, but it was a lie. I knew he would, and every inch of me sizzled in anticipation.
Jamie couldn’t use his words that night, so I would have him use his hands.
Once I made it inside my room, I didn’t know what to do. I paced, kicking off my heels before checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror and splashing some water on my face. I shouldn’t do this, I thought first. WE shouldn’t do this. I thought the words, but I didn’t believe them, because Jamie was all I wanted. I wanted him to want me. I wanted to heal him, to take his pain as my own, even if just for the night. I wanted him to know I was here, that I always would be.
I was patting my face dry with a towel when I heard the click of the door, and I froze, towel in hand. I looked up into the mirror, catching Jamie’s reflection behind me as he dropped the plastic key card on the desk and stepped into the bathroom with me. The air around us buzzed to life, like gas just before the match is lit, and we both breathed it in, feeling the hum of it all.
I was still holding the towel, only my eyes peering over it at the broken man behind me. He moved slowly, eyes on my back as he closed the distance between us. Jamie had always been so strong, so tall and sure, but he looked small in that moment. He wasn’t just broken, he was shattered, and he looked to me as if I held the broom and the glue.
His hands reached out for me first, and he dragged his fingertips from my elbows to my shoulders, sparking chills in his wake. He trailed them down next, along my ribs to my hips, where he grabbed on for life as his forehead fell to my shoulder. The light in the bathroom was dim, warm, and I watched in the mirror as Jamie winced in pain. I dropped the towel then, putting my hands over where his held me. He wrapped them tighter, squeezing me close, and for one brief moment, a tender sorrow filled both of us. A sorrow for what he’d lost — for what we’d lost — and for what the day had held.
When he’d dropped his head to my shoulder, he’d passed his weight to me, needing me to shoulder it with him. I took it as my own, and just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Jamie inhaled, dragging his lips along the slope of my shoulder as his eyes found mine in the mirror, a darker, pulsing heat filling them. He bit down at the apex and I arched into him, my hands reaching up and back for him. His rose with me, sliding under the low back of the dress I’d been wearing for the wedding that never happened. His hands, the ones I’d had on me the night before, the ones I’d stopped, cupped me under the thin fabric and I moaned, dropping my head back.
I didn’t stop him this time.
Jamie caught the lobe of my ear in his mouth and sucked hard, another wave of goosebumps flooding my body. He slid the straps of my dress from each shoulder, one by one, and it dropped like a curtain to the floor, pooling around my bare feet. I hadn’t been wearing a bra, and my panties were a sheer lavender scrap of lace. I lifted my head again, eyelids heavy as I found Jamie in the mirror.
I loved how Jamie always commanded my attention — whether in a crowded room or when we were alone. He waited, however long it took, for the right connection to hit between us before making any other moves. Then, Jamie bit hard on his lower lip, dipping one hand beneath the hem of my panties to brush my clit. My legs shook at the contact and Jamie retracted his hand just as quickly, spinning me before cupping me by the ass and hoisting me into his arms.
