Chapter 11
Ian
“You broke up with me,” she said, hurt clear in her voice. “Over text message, no less,” she scoffed. “I haven’t even talked to you since until today, and you interrupt my coffee with a friend, acting like you did, and then you throw this at me?”
The thoughts of Kate with another man were killing me, slowly but surely. I was literally going crazy with jealousy.
I could only blame myself for it, though.
But who the fuck was that guy?
He was clearly flirting.
I turned my head to her, pain probably super visible in my eyes once again. I couldn’t hide how I felt. I’d tried. I was usually so much better at hiding it, but not this time. Not in this moment. I knew there was a crowd of people looking — another scene was unfolding — and I hated it, but at the same time, it was worth it.
It was worth it just to be near her.
She had every right to be mad at me. And she was. I knew that she was. She was fuming. So it didn’t make it any better when I asked my next question.
“So, who is that guy, anyway?”
I hoped looking into her eyes would somehow tell me something. But it didn’t. It told me nothing except how gorgeous her eyes were, and how pissed off she was as she looked at me through fiery, narrowed eyes.
“His name is Craig! If that’s what you’re asking! I introduced you! Remember?”
I rolled my eyes. I already knew that. I didn’t give a damn what his name was.
“That definitely isn’t what I’m asking,” I said. “I want to know who he is to you.”
I was upset, and I wasn’t going to hide it. A lot of that was probably due to the alcohol that was still rolling around inside my body, and a lot of it was also probably just overdue. I was sick of always keeping my feelings reined in; always burying them deep. I was sick of that part of me.
“Listen, Ian. I don’t know what the hell you want from me. He’s a friend!” She pulled away from me and took steps back until she was further than she had been before. Clearly she didn’t want to be near me. Not now, and probably not ever after the way I’d treated her. Yet, I couldn’t stop… I couldn’t stop being an ass.
I couldn’t just leave it alone. My jealousy just kept raging on. I couldn’t stand the idea of Kate with him. Or anyone, for that matter.
“You’ve clearly had way too much to drink tonight,” she growled. “So I’m just going to give you the benefit of the doubt and think that you’re not usually this big of an asshole and that everything I knew about you wasn’t total bullshit. Craig and I were just talking. Not that it’s any of your business.”
I hated the way I was making her react; I knew I’d fucked up, but the more I thought about it, the more jealous and hurt I was if she was moving on. And angry. No matter if it was all my fault in the first place. I still felt angry. I still felt a sense of betrayal. Wasn’t she supposed to have had real feelings for me? How could she put that aside so easily? I couldn’t.
“You call that fucking talking? His tongue was basically down your throat…” I growled, not really sure what was coming over me. His tongue was nowhere near her. I was being ridiculous. I knew that I was, but I couldn’t stop.
“Are you sure you’re completely sane? That you don’t have some mental illness you’re not sharing with me?” She crossed her arms over her chest and I wasn’t sure if it was a defensive movement, or if she was cold — or if it was a mix of both — but regardless I took a step towards her, almost instinctively hoping to hold her close.
But I couldn’t. I knew I had to hold my ground. Not only because I knew she’d slap me, but also because I wasn’t done.
“Oh, so now we’re going to poke at mental illness!” I groaned. “Thought we were on the page where we didn’t do that because of your sister!”
I didn't really even mean to say the words; didn’t mean to have them leave my wide-open trap. But they did.
“It wasn’t what you thought it was. Not that it even matters,” she said, and honestly what she was saying was true. It was reasonable. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was pretty damn unreasonable — irrational even. Nothing I was doing or thinking made sense. The only thing I knew was that I was pissed off, and more than that, I was hurt.
“And how was I supposed to know that? You were leaning in. I came here to forget you and there you are in our place schmoozing with some lame-ass!”
“You really don’t have any reason to be as ridiculous as you’re being right now! You shouldn’t have come over to the table! We shouldn’t be having this discussion! I mean, hell, Ian, if you’d not been a coward and walked away from us, there wouldn’t have even been any worries, now would there?”
“I’m not jealous!” I snapped, although I knew that I was. “I’m pissed off!”
“But why? Why are you pissed off? Please tell me! Because I would love to hear this!” By the end of all that, I could tell that she really was waiting for me to explain. Not because she cared about an explanation, but because she just wanted to yell at me more.
I could tell she wanted it. Maybe even part of her needed it.
But when I couldn’t say anything — when no words came out — I just found her looking at me. Her arms crossed, her face stern and questioning, and very angry.
I wanted, more than anything, to close the gap between us. No matter how upset I was. I wanted to invade every ounce of personal space she had.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Every breath she took, every glistening in her eyes — that I could see just under the street lamp — and every movement her lips made. It was like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to speak, cry, smile, scowl, or what.
I felt insecure for the first time ever, and it was a miracle that I finally bucked up enough courage and made a move. She’d been staring at me, angrily, for what seemed like forever.
“Alright, so I know I suck, and I’ve downed a lot of whiskey,” I said, as I sat down on the closest bench. “So I’m a little drunk. But that just felt like I got the fucking shit beat out of me, and all the air left my body.”
“Like the wind got knocked out of you?”
“Yeah…that…” I muttered. “I hate being jealous.”
I sat there dumbfounded as she finally inched close enough to sit down beside me.
I waited another couple of seconds before I actually spoke again. Admittedly, part of me had been afraid to scare her off.
She sighed and got up again. Almost instantly, I missed the heat of her body beside me. I watched, as she retreated away from me. She paced. Back and forth for a moment, just before rubbing her shoulders, likely needing the friction to stay warm.
I sighed, pulled my body from the bench and walked over to her. As soon as I did though, I watched her stop, dead in her tracks, turn to me, and her whole body stiffened.
“Take my jacket,” I said, pulling it off. Hers was in her hand, and I wasn’t sure exactly why I wanted to offer it to her, but I did.
Not that she wanted me to.
As soon as I got close enough, her hand was outstretched in front of me, as if she was ready to stiff-arm me at any moment. I didn’t care, though. I kept walking in her direction.
“Either take my coat or put yours on!” I defended. “It’s too cold out here.”
She growled and slung her arms through her jacket. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she insisted, and I instantly stepped another step closer to her. I wasn’t sure why. I should have retreated. She was angry. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to.
I wanted to be closer to her, and before I knew it, a jolt electricity flowed into me by feeling her flesh on mine. The gentle touch her outstretched hand placed on my arm as I approached was meant for nothing more than to hold me away. But, turns out, it did nothing but warm me almost instantly.
I wondered if he’d gotten to touch her — but then I realized, I knew he had. I’d seen him graze her hand, which is what I was doing and getting so incredibly excited about. The only difference was, she wanted to touch him. She was only touching me to keep me away.
I didn’t know why, but a part of me still felt like she was mine.
And that part of me wanted her to know how hard it was for me to feel that. I wanted her to understand it. Embrace it. Maybe even somehow appreciate it.
What could I say that I hadn’t already said and ruined by continuing on with my shitty arguments?
Would I tell her I’d been tied up thinking about her constantly for two weeks; that I creeped up on her, watched her through windows when I got home every night? Should I have told her that all I could do was harp on her? To focus on her; how much I desired her; and now how good it felt for her to simply touch my fucking arm. I could try to explain to her everything I felt, and I could try to explain why I was behaving the way that I was; but ultimately I knew I couldn’t.
Nothing would make my being an asshole and breaking up with her okay; and definitely nothing would make it okay for to be the jealous prick I’d been all night.
I sighed, sadly. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to actually put my mind to rest. Life hadn’t been that easy since knowing Kate.
Instead, my breathing increased, muscles clenched and my knuckles turned white as I squeezed them into fists.
I didn’t know how I was still conscious. I wanted to be asleep. To pass out from the effects of the alcohol that still hadn’t worn off; to curl up in a ball way away from the situation; to rid myself completely of the crazy amount of pain edging its way into my body.
I had no right to explain myself or to apologize. And I had no way to really begin to explain just how sorry I was. So instead, I just shrugged and said, “I’m sorry for everything.”
And I walked away.
I hadn’t gotten far when Kate appeared before me and positioned herself in front of me, placing a hand firmly against my chest to stop my movements. She looked at me, sternly, her eyes questioning. She clearly wanted answers or she’d have let me keep walking.
Her eyes glistened, and I knew mine likely were too when I felt tears starting to burn and strain, pulling and tugging, hoping to fall.
I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with everything, and I did everything I could to ignore how strong the pull still was to her. I waited for her to speak, to say something, anything. Instead, she remained silent, her look still stern and questioning. Our breaths intermingled in the night between us as puffs of visible air came rolling from our mouths.
I wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss her; because in that moment, as I gazed down at the gorgeous woman who held my heart, I knew no matter if she’d ever forgive me or not, I had already fallen for her.
Hard.
“I want to know what you are sorry for?” she asked, as our bodies somehow moved closer and closer together, despite my mind screaming at me to stop.
She was awaiting my reply. Waiting for me to say whatever it was I had to say. One more puff of air escaped my mouth, carrying the words, “I’m sorry for losing you.”
And then in one swift motion, I grabbed each side of her beautiful face and pressed my lips to hers.
I was surprised when she didn’t pull away. But I knew that with every flick of the tongue that I’d be an idiot to question it; to question why she hadn’t pulled away; why she hadn’t smacked me in the face; why she was kissing me back; or really, to ask anything. I would have been an idiot not to just go with it. To enjoy it.
Because if it was the last time, then damn it all, I wanted it to be a time I would remember forever. I could only hope it wouldn’t be the last time, though.
There was something so strong between us that it crackled and sparked with every passing second. It was so strong that it was there constantly. I wondered what it was, but I think somewhere deep down, I sort of knew what it was. It scared me to no end. But I knew I didn’t want it to end. It would have been a mistake to let everything so electrified between us drift away and become forgotten.
A huge mistake.
A mistake I’d already made once.
I wasn’t prepared to do it again.
I had been an idiot. I knew that. I had fucked it all up, but as her lips moved with mine in a passionate embrace — a kiss that couldn’t be denied to be a kiss of lovers — I realize something. It made me realize that what I had done wasn’t insurmountable after all. It made me realize that what I had done could actually be forgiven.
I smiled into the kiss, partially because it felt so damn good, partially because I was so happy that my fucking heart was rapidly fluttering against my chest, causing my entire body to vibrate, but also because of how wonderful she was. She was the best person I’d ever met.
Forgiving me after all I had done? I could only pray she would. Of course, that was the sort of person Kate was.
Of course she was perfect in yet another way…
And I swear, knowing she was capable of such compassion, even for an asshole like me, made me want her even more.
Just as I was about to pull away, she wrapped her arms around my neck, halting me, and pulled me closer. I moaned, as our tongues intertwined, and the kiss intensified. What was first a gentle tongue brushing against lips had proceeded into both of our mouths open, our tongues dancing in an incredible duel for dominance.
We explored each other’s mouths, and I couldn’t help but fall completely entrapped in it.
I moaned, not caring who heard, into her mouth, fueled and lust-filled instantly.
I pulled her fragile frame closer to me, fueled by her saddening deepening of the kiss. I removed my hands from her waist and began to trace her back, feeling her body, as much of it as I could, anyway.
When my hand slipped under her shirt slightly, I couldn’t help but notice that she let out a small gasp within the kiss — directly into my mouth.
I tried to pull back again, worrying that I’d scared her; that I’d pushed too far. But, as if reassuring me, she pulled me back — once again — and kissed me even more passionately than she had even just now.
“Kate-” I muttered, breathless, pulling away from her lips. I wasn’t sure what we were doing. I didn’t know whether to ask or not, but I didn’t want to take advantage of a situation either. I wanted her to know what she was doing; to know where this was leading; and damn it, I didn’t want to be led on…
“Shh…” she said, placing a finger against my lips, cutting me off. She engulfed my lips again, in another exhilarating kiss, just before we pulled away.
The fog of air came flooding from our mouths in front of us as we struggled to catch our breaths.
I was sure I was radiating with happiness as I pulled her even against my chest. I felt her breasts press against me, and as soon as I did, I shuddered — like a teenager experiencing it for the first time; like I’d never felt any — let alone these — before.
I kissed fiercely and passionate, and she kissed back with the same amount of animalistic urgency. Our groans and moans were rumbling in our throats as our breaths messily mingled together and our hands tore at one another’s clothes.
It was starting to get really heated — maybe even too heated — as we roughly grabbed one another, clawing and tearing at clothes and skin.
I relished in the feeling of her nails digging into me, the feeling of her moist lips on mine, her strong tongue massaging my own, and the feeling of her soft smooth skin beneath my busy, fueled hands.
Her hands strayed along my back, causing a chill to roll up and down my spine.
I wanted her to rid me of my clothes, and God knows I wanted to rid her of hers. I wanted to throw her down where we were and ravish her until sun-up. I wanted every swift movement to be fueled by passionate lovemaking and to devour her naked body and soak it all into my memory.
I knew, though, that we had to rein it in. At least for the time being. We were in public. But I knew my body, and I knew it well. I felt a tightness form in the depths of my belly, and a fire ignite in my groin. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was at full-attention, and ready for the real action to begin.
So despite my better judgment, I pulled away, even more breathless and heated than before. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” I gasped.
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” she replied with a hurried not just before entrapping my lips once again.
“But we’re in the middle of public-”
“I don’t care…”
And in that moment she didn’t. I knew that she didn’t because she began to suck on my neck, and I even returned the gesture. Like a damn knee jerk reaction. Instead of doing what I knew she’d want when she wasn’t being swept away by passion.
I knew Kate didn’t like public displays.
I knew she wouldn’t be happy with this continuing like it was.
So I pulled away slightly. “Okay, we can continue kissing, but we really do need to calm down,” I laughed, almost completely breathless at this point. I couldn’t believe that I was actually telling her that we needed to calm down. After I was an asshole two weeks ago I didn’t think she’d ever forgive me — and now I was telling her to calm down. I was telling her we were getting too hot in the middle of the street all because of her.
She nodded, after taking a deep breath. I knew she agreed. I knew she was finally thinking clearly — well clearly enough, anyways.
I highly doubt either of us were packed full of clarity in that moment.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into another kiss, and it was as if we were clinging together. All the hurt, the longing — all of it — turning into nothing but pure passion.