Page 118 of Meet Me in the Dark: The Complete Series

He can't mean that he thinks of... me all the time, can he? No. He just knew what the rest of my sentence was going to be. But I don't have the courage to ask what he meant. I don't know which answer would terrify me more. So instead of asking, I just put my hand on his and close my eyes.

Chapter 10

What are you doing? What are you doing? What. Are. You. Doing?

My mind is demanding an answer, but I don't have one. I can't explain why I've been awake for... I don't even know how long now, and am still just lying here, in the darkness, in silence, in Jackson's arms.

I woke up, blinking the darkness away until I realized... I was in darkness. Utter darkness. My eyes widened, as if that would help me see anything, but it was the groan behind me, the arm tightening on my middle, that quickly reminded me of everything. That I was in Jackson's bedroom. That he was the sole reason for the ache between my thighs and at my ass. That it was him holding me tight to his body.

I don't know how long I was asleep, or what time it is now. His dark room doesn't let me figure out if it's still daytime, or if we've slept into the night. What I do know is that I've been lying here for a while, too long, asking myself why I'm still here. Enjoying the feel of his body cocooning mine far too much. Letting my heart do a very, very dangerous thing; reach for the man behind me.

It's stupid, absolutely foolish, but I, like an idiot, allow my heart this moment. Allow it to have Jackson for just a little while. I let myself believe we could ever again be as we are right now. I deceive myself into believing this could ever be a reality, anything more than sex. Because inside, I know. If we had never fucked, we wouldn't have ended up in this bed together. If it weren't for my car breaking down, we probably wouldn't have even ended up at his house. If it weren't for him wanting to fulfill my, and his, fantasy, we would never have come together at all.It all comes back to sex, because that is all I will ever mean to him.

And that's all he should mean to me. It's what I agreed to. It's what he offered me, and I accepted. I can't want more. It's not right, and it's not fair to him.

It's not fair that he's lying here with a woman he's fucked, and I'm lying here with a man I am realizing more and more with each minute I remain in his arms, that I love. I love him. I don't know how I let this happen, but I love him. I don't know why I let this happen, but I love him. I don't know if I could have done anything to stop it from happening, but I love him. Fuck.

I can't keep this going now. I have to go let him go. Because he thinks we're one thing, and now, to me, we're so much more. And to continue letting him believe we're just two people fulfilling each other's fantasies, when I'd just be falling deeper and deeper each time we meet, would be a lie. A lie I'm not willing to tell. This has to be the last time we're together. The last time we fuck. The first and last time I ever lay in his arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut at the tears that try to spill from them. No. Not here. But I need to go, because I won't be able to continue winning the fight against the sorrow and grief spreading in me for long. I tuck back into him a little more, taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent that is uniquely him. Then I swallow, and I let him go.

I gently lift his arm off my middle. He moves, trying to get closer to me, and I damn near break at that. That it seems like he's seeking me out, wanting me to stay right next to him. But I can't, as much as I wish I could. I lift my head from his arm and slowly, silently, move away from him. I feel around on the floor, trying to find my clothes. My pants are a few feet away. He must have thrown them once he'd dragged them off of me. Memories flashthrough my mind, of the pain and pleasure he gave me, enticing me to climb back into bed, to have him one last time. A goodbye fuck. But he wouldn't know it's a goodbye. Isn't that what I'm doing to him right now anyway? Leaving without him knowing it's a goodbye, that it's the last time?

Guilt fills me as I pull my panties and pants on, but I stomp it down. This is me trying to save him from the confusion of figuring out why I would suddenly be looking at him with love instead of just lust. Why I would be sad when he left me alone after fucking me. Why things had changed.

Last night has to be the last time. Or really, was it this morning? God, I wish I knew what time it is. It seems like you should know the time of when you're breaking your own heart. I knew I should never have done this. Knew it would end badly somehow, someway.

I just need to go.

I open the bedroom door and light spills in from the hallway, and although I command myself not to look back at him, my head turns anyway. His arm is still extended, covering where I just was. As if, even in sleep, he's reaching for me. Or maybe it's just all in my mind, or that's just how he sleeps. God, I need to go before my heart makes me believe things that aren't true.

I leave the room and silently close the door behind me. It's hard to walk down the hallway and not remember last night, when I was running down the hall, trying to find somewhere to hide, excitement rushing through me. And I'll never feel that again. I know, without having to try with someone else, that I will never feel what I feel with Jackson with anyone else. I know I will never find someone who understands my wants and needs as well as him, who makes me both moan and cry like him. There is no one like him, and I can't be who I am with anyone but him.

I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, where my purse still is. Getting my phone from inside, my eyes widen when I see it's now six o'clock at night. I have a few texts and missed calls, and I rush to check them. But the voice behind me stills my fingers on the screen.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Jackson's deep voice asks me.

I swallow, not wanting to turn around. Not wanting to look at him again, not right now, not so soon after deciding I can never be with him the way I want to.

"Are you okay?"

His hands come to my shoulders, soothing, gentle, such a contrast to how he held me while he fucked me. And exactly how he held me as we slept side-by-side.

"Yeah," I answer, stepping forward to get out of his hold. "I was just going to take an Uber home."

I feel horrible lying to him, but the bigger lie would be staying here.

"Why would you do that? I can take you."

"I didn't wanna wake you."

"How could I sleep once I realized you weren't in the bed with me anymore?"

Why? Why does he have to say things like that and make it that much harder to go?

"It's okay." I turn and give him what I'm sure is an uneasy smile while looking everywhere but at him. "Then you'd have to wait while I showered and got ready, when I know you wanna get to the hospital to see the baby. It's fine."

"It's not fine." I finally look at him at the tone in his voice, and the same confusion I heard in his voice is on his face. Browsfurrowed, he asks, "Are you sure everything's okay? Because if there's a problem, let me know. Otherwise, I'll be making you something to eat, driving you to your house, waiting for you to shower and get dressed, driving you to the hospital, and letting you go in while I jump your car. Okay?"

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