Page 300 of Not Over You

What? I stiffen. That’s not what I was expecting. My world takes a monumental shift in an alternative direction. What the hell? My body is barely functioning beyond ouch; my brain can’t process this now.

“Justin can’t have you,” he mumbles between our touching lips. “You’re mine, Ashleigh. You always have been.”

His lips touch mine again. My mouth is paying attention to him at least. My lips are tingling, but my back is still screaming, and my head is still fighting.

“You're supposed to be wearing my flashy engagement ring,” he whispers. “Yes, I do have one. And it’s better than his.” He does? Really? “And you’re supposed to be the mother of my children, not his.”

My heart is racing. I don’t want him to be this man. This was the man I love. This sweet, kind, generous man, who has no idea what he’s done or how badly he’s let me down. Why couldn’t he stay that insufferable stubborn-assed jerk that argued blue was pink just to make my life hell? This man… this one standing before me… he’s irresistible. “Sean—”

“I know, and I'm a stubborn jackass,” he whispers. “But you’re not getting a divorce.” He presses his lips against me one more time. “I don't care if you're pregnant—”

“I'm not.”

“Thank God!” He sighs and rests his forehead against mine. “You're my Sparkle, you brighten my life.” I barely hear his voice as he whispers, “And you always will.”

He’s right. Every guy I’ve ever kissed is Sean, even when he isn't.

“You have to stop doing this to me, Sean,” I hiss back. “You can’t keep casting me aside and then get all possessive when you think someone else wants me. You either want me or you don't, because next time, I'm not taking you back. Life’s too short for this shit.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he replies softly. “I promise.” He kisses me. “Now, tell me what hurts.”

I point to the part of my neck that’s super sensitive and the quickest way ever to get me into bed. “Right here.”

“Later,” he promises, stepping back, circling around the back of me as though he’s conducting a visual assessment. “I’m more concerned about that screech you just made and why.”

“And I’m more interested in increasing my serotonin and endorphins levels.”

“You want me to get you high?” he mumbles, sliding his hands over my hips until his palms cradle my stomach. His lips graze over the curve of my neck and shoulder. “You have to be careful with this stuff, I'm told it’s pretty addictive.”

“Uh-huh.” Sean pulls me gently against him, my nerve endings tingling with something other than pain. Something pleasurable. “You should definitely come with a warning label.”

I slide my keycard out of my purse, swipe it against the reader, and push down on the door handle. We awkwardly shuffle inside, and as the door closes, I turn in Sean’s arms. Slowly. Ever so gently so I don’t jar too many nerves.

“I swear to God, Sean.” I try to threaten him, but it doesn’t come out as such. “I can’t keep doing this with you. I can’t let this cycle continue. If you leave me again, it’s over. Forever. You’ll never see me again.”

“Ash—”

“No, Sean!” I hiss, thumping his chest with my fists. “You know my weakness. The insufferable asshole, I can argue with him all day. But this version of you… the one who spills his secrets, listens to mine… the one who dances with me and sings when there’s no music… the one who pours out his soul and declares he loves me… I can’t fight him. Please, I’m begging you, don’t break me again. I’m not strong enough to survive it.”

“I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on with you because I don’t. I have a horrible feeling that I’ve got this all wrong. That, somehow, I’ve fucked up. But I don’t know how, Ashleigh. All I know is that everyone is mad at me. So, there’s another version of what happened that I’ve not heard yet. There must be. And I swear to God, if I’m to blame, if this is all my doing, then I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.”

I know I'm a fool for believing him. I know I shouldn’t let him back in. I should push him away. Or at least tell him the truth. But I don’t. Instead, I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him.

He kisses me back.

It starts out sweet and gentle, just innocently making out like teens. My arms around his neck, fingers teasing his hair. He falls back against the door, leaning into its support, legs slightly apart so he can pull me closer and luxuriate in those slow, languid kisses.

There’s no rush in the teasing of our tongues, just a joyous escape of butterflies in my tummy. Little pops of fireworks in my nerve endings. The gossamer touch of his fingers tracing circles over the sensitive muscles in my lower back. The bare skin breaking out in gooseflesh sending exquisite tingles all over my body.

When my knees start to tremble, he swoops down and picks me up. “Where to, my love?” I can’t help but laugh as he adds, “I’m not being presumptuous.”

“Well, just in case you’ve forgotten, I’m sharing this suite with Ryder, so if you don’t want to get caught and have your ass kicked by a semiprofessional cage fighter, then being presumptuous is safer.”

He strides into my bedroom and gently lowers me to the mattress before he slides my shoes off my feet. He kicks off his own shoes and lies down beside me. His fingers trail along my arm as he dips his head to press a gentle kiss on my mouth.

“I thought you were being presumptuous?” I tease.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

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