Page 40 of Two days, One Pucking Night

I lower my head, pull her in for a kiss, and I stroke her face. I feel her tears on my fingertips. There’s no denying this thing between us is not only a sharing of bodies and pleasure. It is more.

“Sofia,” I breathe her name again, my lips never wavering from hers.

When our gazes lock again, I know this is it. Our unraveling, our awakening. The moment and truth that we can no longer hide from.

“Xavier, please.” Sofia closes her eyes, meeting my thrust as if closing her eyes will make this ache in my chest disappear, as if she can disappear. Not possible.

“Eyes on me, Sofia.”

“I can’t, Xavier,” she pleads, a sadness in her tone. One I hate being the cause of.

“Yes, you can.”

“Don’t make me do it.”

“I need to feel you, just one more time. I need more.”

Her eyes fly wide open. I continue to ride this thing between us, touching, kissing, and taking my time because I’m not ready yet. I'm not prepared to let her go.

Always. A silent proclamation. In another time, another place, another life, things between us will be different. Always is all I can offer her when everything in my life is uncertain. When the path I’m embarking on means I will be hurting her brother, hurting her.

Always in my heart. Forever in my thoughts.

“Always,” I repeat out loud, and the word is our undoing as we both come.

Sofia is a mess. Her body shakes, and her tears cover and stain the pillow beneath her head. She’s gasping for breath as I try to find mine.

“We should talk about us.”

“No.” There’s resolve in her voice.

“We have to, princess.”

“No, let’s just be here, Like this. Present. So we don’t ruin what we’ve shared.” Her words shoot through my chest, and I shift awkwardly with her in my arms, feeling the ache.

I can tell she isn’t ready, so I don’t push. I do the one thing I can; I carry her into the bath, help her on her feet, and give her what she needs right now—aftercare.

I set the bath running with some Epsom salt and essential oils. I pull her into my chest as I massage her body, relishing her curves for a time when I will no longer be able to.

Sofia is silent, her back flush against mine as I move to her hair.

When I’m done, I take her into the shower and rinse her body again. Her head is on her chest, and I can tell she’s exhausted, barely able to stay upright or awake.

“Sleep, I’ll be here,” I whisper into her ear once I’ve dried her and placed her in my bedroom.

I don’t sleep. I spend the remainder of the evening watching her. Remembering the contours of her face, the suppleness of her skin, and the whistling sound she makes when she’s deep in sleep. For tomorrow I will no longer have this pleasure.

12

SOFIA

I came to London to find myself. Instead, I got tangled, coiled like a barbed wire in the hands of a man I have no business giving pieces of myself to. Now, the cords around us are so tightly locked and interwoven each pull and tug causes pain in my chest. A new hole, an opening that cannot be easily filled.

Xavier is lying on the bed beside me, his beautiful face covered by loose strands of hair that frame his face. I run my hands through his hair, his face marking every line, curve, contour, and dent because, after today, it’s over.

My mind replays last night in a slow loop, and I cover my face, recalling the tightness in my chest and the ache in my heart with each proclamation. My limbs are heavy and ache from the intimacy of what we shared yesterday. There were lines we should have never crossed, unspoken truths we should have never given words or breathed life into.

My breath catches as I slowly uncurl myself from his hold. Xavier stirs gently, his hand searching for my body, and the sight of that tugs at invisible strings that keep my heart beating.

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