My body melts into his as our kiss continues. I’m on sensory overdrive and it scares the hell out of me. Sure, I’ve kissed before and yes, we’ve certainly come close, but this is different from anything I’ve experienced. It’s as if his mouth is perfectly matched with mine. His lips were made for me and only me.

This is the kind of kiss that, more than likely, can ruin all other kisses for me. He’s the one, just like in my romance books. But this one ends all the others- past and future. This is my kiss to end all kisses. There’s no going back. He’s like my addiction that can only be fed by him. He will be one hell of a habit to break.

As we continue to move, I can’t help the nagging voice inside my head. The one that’s cautiously warning me this isn’t real. The reality is this is Jack. He’s only good for so long before he turns it to shit.

Jack has more than likely slept his way through almost all of northern California. We can’t even count the number of rugby groupies that hang off of him every weekend. They all think they know him but they don’t. I know who he is.

I promised myself to be myself, to be strong, and play it smart. However now that his lips are on mine, all promises are broken. I’m screwed.

What the hell? Damn it, Jenny, where’s your control? Holy fuck, can he kiss.

As I slip into his lips, my body melts. It’s as if every nerve inside me is shooting straight to my core. The wave of pleasure he gives me is enough to make my body fall to the floor and take him with me. My legs weaken every time his tongue touches mine. It’s to the point that I’m visualizing tearing his clothes off right here in the hallway. My nails dig deep into him, begging him to keep his hold on me.

As if reading my mind, his arm tightens securely around me and I let my body drop into him. His grip holds firm and I mold into him. His hand frees mine while I moan into his mouth. His tongue plays with my lower lip while I immediately reach for his shirt collar. I want to pull him in even further so that every part of us is touching. He must sense my desire for I’m rewarded with a low growl and lip nibble.

My hands have a mind of their own. They go from his shirt to his hair and back again. Each movement and grab is a bit more restless. The pace we’ve set is increasing to the point that we are the only two that exist, even though there is a house full of people downstairs.

My hands continue to explore his chest, neck, face, and hair. I’ve waited so long to touch him that I can’t decide where to start and stop. It’s fevered and erratic. My body is aching in all the right places. I’m on sensory overload.

Each time my fingers brush across him, my tiny nerve endings sends pulsating shocks to my clit. It increases with each unexplored contact. Finally my hands decide to settle in Jack’s hair. I promptly tug and scratch, turning it into a worked over mess.

I feel his hand leave my waist and go for my hem. He takes his time, leisurely creeping it upward. The faintest touch from his fingertips causes me to shiver. My willpower has been squashed.

Fuck it. Jack won this round. He’s got the upper hand and, at this moment, I’m okay with it. In fact, I welcome it.

It’s been way too long since I’ve experienced these emotions and sensations. If I allow myself to think about it, I don’t know if I ever have. I never thought this intensity existed in real life. I’m completely captivated and under his sexual spell.

We both break apart for a moment to catch our breath. It’s a brief pause, but it allows us to look deeply into each other. The passion is overwhelming. I can’t stay under his spell, so I turn my head, allowing him access to my neck.

Just as his tongue meets my jawline and descends down the slope of my neck, I feel his fingertips reach my panties. Taking in a deep breath, I mentally and emotionally prepare myself for what’s next.

My leg shifts out a few inches allowing him better access. His fingers move forward and trace the outline of my panties. Carefully they move toward my nub and stay there. My shuddered breath trembles from the contact. He rewards my response with another growl and nibble of my neck.

In between my shaky pants, I moan to him, “Jack…oh, god, Jack…this feels incredible…mmmmm.” Then, as if my words break him from this trance, everything stops. It’s as if suddenly he’s paralyzed.

I wait a moment before turning to whisper in his ear. “Is everything okay?” His head is now resting on the curve of my neck. He doesn’t answer so I shrug my shoulder lightly, hoping he will lift his head.

“Jack, what’s wrong? Why did you stop?” He lifts his head and I can see the change in his eyes. What was once entranced with lust is now disengaged. It’s an abrupt shift and he’s shutting down.

I dare not move or open my mouth. I wait for him to answer because my words are scared to come out. Our fragile connection could be lost entirely.

His body retreats only a few inches but it feels like a chasm. His warmth he provided leaves and the shivers that once felt incredible are now ice cold. Reality is coming. I’m not prepared for it. I already miss his closeness too much.

Finally, his mouth opens simultaneously with him taking another step away. We now are completely apart. It feels eerily like a metaphor of us. My knees give way as I slide down the wall further. The sweat that’s developed on my hands sticks onto it and helps stop the momentum.

I watch his hands go in his hair, rubbing it briskly back and forth. The tortured look on his face as he breaks eye contact wounds me. Our eyes were the last part still connected.

Looking down, he mutters under his breath, “Jenny…I’m sorry. That never should have happened. I didn’t want to treat you like that. I’m sorry.” His head lifts up, and for a brief moment, I can see his pain. His tortured look hurts me. “I didn’t want things to happen this way.”

He turns away but before he does I see the pain morph into something else. I have no clue what it is. I watch him take one step down the stairs yet do nothing to stop him. I can’t decide if I’m too shocked or too turned on – either way I’m completely screwed.

He turns his head back at me and then steps back up. He shrugs his shoulders before speaking again. “Jenny, please understand I want this to be different. You don’t….I mean I don’t deserve…you know what… forget it. I’m sorry.”

His statement is vague and confuses the hell out of me. But, yet, that’s how it’s always been with us. So why should now be any different?

He once again does what he does best - leaves. I’m alone just like he left me all those years ago. This shouldn’t surprise me but it does. This is his pattern and what he does to me. What he’s always done. He is drawing me back into it and I hate him for it.

I still can’t move. His words keep replaying in my mind. I don’t want it to but my mind is going to do what it wants. It wants to overanalyze it- thanks anxiety diagnosis.

Did I do something wrong? Was I bad at something? Was I not what he wanted? The longer I stand there, the more my thoughts sit and fester. My anxiety is being replaced with annoyance that eventually turns into anger. He’s making me fucking crazy!

It doesn’t make any sense. He wanted me. I wanted him. I could feel how much he wanted me on my thigh. Of course the only thing I can come up with is that I’m not what he wants. He has had two chances with me, not including tonight.

Perhaps he decided I’m not for him. He knows what it’s like to kiss and touch me and I don’t do it for him. Well fuck him! I’m done with his shit. No more. I will not allow him to play these games with me anymore. I’m done.

Breaking free from the wall, I straighten out my dress and run my fingers through my hair hoping to regain some composure. How the hell am I going to get through this evening? The sooner I get down there, the sooner it will be over. Then he can get his pig ass home. Apparently, continually screwing with me gets him off. Asshole.

As I walk toward the porch, I notice he’s standing off to the side, his body shifted away from everyone. Lifting my head up high I walk past him. My lips silently mouth the words I’ve never been able to say to him or more importantly to myself- goodbye Jack.

The shock on his face is evident. For a flash I think I see a tear, but I’m sure it’s my imagination.

It’s time to let Jack go and move on. I came home for one reason- my family. Coming home cannot and will not be centered on him. That was my old life. Today is a new day. It’s time to look in the mirror and see the one person that can change me. It will be for me. It will be for my family. It will not be for Jack Ryan.