Chapter Twenty-Four
Rhenn
She’s not fooling me. In just a short period of time, I’ve learned so much about that woman, including when her smiles are real or fake. That one she gave me before I came into the bathroom? Fake as hell. And don’t get me started on the slight red tint to her eyes and the fact that they were a bit swollen. She’s been crying. Even me – a man who runs as far away as humanly possible from female tears – knows it.
That’s why I had to step away. I don’t want to see her hurt, and watching a tear fall down her beautiful face would certainly kill me.
When did I become this guy?
Yeah, we both know the answer to that one too.
I take a fast shower, anxious to get back out there. Not just because she’s making me her famous lemon zest and blueberry pancakes, but because I don’t want to waste one second with her. Soon, I’ll be gone, and all I’ll have are my memories to keep me warm at night. I might as well get to making more.
With fresh shorts and T-shirt, I step out of her small bathroom and drop the wet towel in the laundry. The process is familiar and comfortable at this point. All of my stuff is already washed, back on my boat, and ready for my trek back home. When I make my way back to the kitchen, I see she already has the pancakes made and in the middle of the table. The syrup is warming in the bowl of water, something I never in a million years would have thought to do before my working trip to Rockland Falls.
We’re both quiet as we take our seats, fresh cups of coffee placed beside each plate. I sip my black coffee, watching her over the rim of my cup as she eats. Or pretends to eat. I think she’s moving her pancakes around on her plate more than she’s eating them.
“So, what’s on the schedule for today?” I ask, drawing her eyes to mine. Those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that are sure to haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
Marissa clears her throat and paints on a smile. “I thought maybe we could go to the park for a bit. There’s a walking path that Jensen takes a lot, and a clearing that’s perfect for picnics.”
“Sounds great,” I answer. Honestly, it doesn’t matter much what we do as long as I get to spend my last day here with her.
We chat lightly through breakfast, but there’s a heavy air in the room that’s filled with dread and finality. I hate it. Almost as much as I hate the thought of leaving tomorrow. Nothing about my old life is as appealing as it was before. Sure, I have a great job and a thriving dojo that I love, but what about the rest of it? It means nothing. All of it. Everyone who came before her.
Pushing away those gloomy thoughts, I polish off the best fucking pancakes I’ve ever had. I know what you’re thinking. They’re pancakes. What could make them so amazing for such a daring proclamation? They’re light, fluffy, and a bold combination of flavors. Plus, there’s the woman who makes them. They’re as delicious as she is.
I help her clean up the mess, silently working side by side to tidy up her space. When the dishes are clean and drying and the floors swept, I reach for her hand and pull her against me. “I’m yours for the rest of the day. I don’t care what we do. I just want to spend it with you.” Just before my lips claim hers, I see the flash of pain in her eyes. This goodbye is going to be hard on her, I can tell. I hate that I’m causing her pain.
After kissing the hell out of her, I reluctantly pull away.
“Let me grab some tennis shoes and we can get ready to go,” she says, heading off to her bedroom.
I go over to my overnight bag and grab a fresh pair of socks. Once my shoes are in place, she comes out of her room, her own feet covered in pink and gray walking shoes. “Ready?” I ask, extending my hand. She readily takes it, grabbing four water bottles from the fridge and placing them in the bag I didn’t even notice she had packed.
“Ready.”
Together, we head out the door and off to our first excursion of the day.
* * *
“This is beautiful,” I state, taking a long pull from one of the water bottles and handing it back to her for another drink.
“I don’t come through here much, but my brother does. It’s a bit more rugged than I like,” she says with a shoulder shrug.
The walking path from the park turned into a pretty hearty workout. We’ve snaked our way through the woods, walked up steep inclines, and wound our way along the river. We’ve actually found ourselves at the waterfall, but this time from the opposite side. The rocks are jagged and slippery as the water rushes past, making it too dangerous to be on the cliff, so we just stand there, both of us breathing heavy from the trek up, and watch the rushing waters.
“Let’s sit and rest for a bit,” I tell her, taking the backpack off and setting it on a flat rock. Marissa retrieves the food inside and hands me a Ziploc baggie. “What’s this?” I ask opening the package and pulling out the sandwich. When I realize what it is, I can’t help but laugh. “PB and J?”
“Only the best PB and J sandwich ever made! The jelly is fresh from a farm on the other side of town. We’ve been serving it at the bed and breakfast for years. You seem like the type who would appreciate blueberry rhubarb jelly.”
My mouth waters as I take my first bite. “Holy shit, that’s amazing,” I say right before taking my second bite.
“Right? It’s my favorite of all her jellies. Well, that and apple butter.”
I moan in pleasure as I think about all the ways she could use apple butter for breakfast. “I love apple butter. My grandma used to make it when I was little.”
“Sooo good,” she moans as she takes her first bite.
“I’m completely turned on right now,” I deadpan, watching her devour her PB and J sandwich.
“Of course you are. You’re breathing,” she teases, shoulder bumping me as I polish off my lunch.
“It’s you. You have this reaction on me,” I confess, though I assume she already knows. It’s definitely no secret.
We’re both quiet, as she pulls out a bag of potato chips and together we finish off the sour cream and onion flavored snack. The waters rage around us and off in the distance, we can see several couples and families enjoying the falls, walking back and forth down the flat path that we took last weekend.
“Can I ask you something?” I break the silence and stretch my legs forward, leaning back on my hands.
“Sure.”
“Do you think you might come up to Jupiter Bay on the Fourth?” I’ve known that her family was planning to come up for the next holiday weekend, but it’s the first time the topic has been broached between us.
Marissa toys with her hair, shoving it behind her ear, and dropping her eyes. “I don’t think so. I have a lot to do here, and we’ll have guests by then. I think it’s best if I stay behind.”
She doesn’t look my way, but I nod anyway. There’s something so wrong about her family coming up to spend the weekend with their family and her not coming too. Realization that I won’t be seeing her in a few weeks doesn’t sit well. “I had kinda hoped to see you again,” I tell her.
Finally, Marissa looks up, sadness etched on her face. She gives me a smile, but it’s not the kind that lights up her face. “I’m not really sure that’s a good idea. I mean, when we made this arrangement, it was for two weeks. I think it’s best to just end it tomorrow; you go your way, and I’ll go mine.”
My stomach drops to my shoes. The chances of me running into her again are pretty good, considering my best friend is married to her cousin, but I hadn’t really thought far enough ahead to when that actually happens. Or the fact that she wouldn’t want to see me again. Even if you take sex out of the equation, I consider her a friend now. I’ll admit, that hurts.
Not wanting to show any reaction, I go with, “You’re right.” I clear my throat, nodding too much to be deemed normal, and start picking up our trash. Once it’s put in the backpack, I stand up, hating the fact that she is right. This is exactly what we agreed upon, exactly what I wanted. No strings. Just sex. If we see each other again, great. It doesn’t have to be weird or uncomfortable.
Then why does it feel like my heart was just kicked with a pair of steel-toed boots?
Not trusting my voice, I reach for her hand and, together, we start to make the winding trek back on the path. Our walk down is more leisurely than it was coming up, and we often find birds, cool rocks, and trees to stop and look at. We barely talk, but I feel like so much is being said. We’re communicating with our body language, with our unspoken words, with our touch. I never in a million years thought I’d be so…sad at the prospect of leaving someone I’m sleeping with, but do you know what? This shit hurts. It sucks, and by the time tomorrow rolls around, I’m not sure how I’m going to walk away. I don’t want to see sadness on her face – or worse, indifference with my leaving. That might actually kill me.
So I know what I have to do.
* * *
I refused to let her cook on my last night here. Instead, I took her to that little hole in the wall steakhouse that I took her to the first time. I’ve done everything I can to stay away from her place, since I know her family is there. Nick and Meghan drove over to help me get my boat back home, and with them, Emma and Orval. I’m just not in the mood to share Marissa right now. Not on my last night with her.
The good news is that they all went to Samuel’s place for dinner, so when we return to the bed and breakfast, we’re alone. I help her from my truck, and with her hand nestled in mine, guide her around the house and to her place. The lights are off, creating a dark, mysterious ambiance, so when we enter, I take the opportunity to pull her into my arms. My lips are on hers instantaneously, eager to taste her one more time.
One last time.
Marissa comes into my arms willingly, opening her mouth when my tongue glides along the seam of her lips. She tastes like heaven, that sexy combination of sultry and sweet. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget her taste, nor will I find another pair of lips as amazing as hers. That fucking ball of dread tightens in my chest once more, so I do what I do best: push it aside and ignore it.
It has gotten me through life, thus far.
Slowly, I guide her backward to her bedroom. Her arms wrap around my neck as she presses her body tightly against mine. I’m already hard and aching for her, but I want to take this slow. I want to memorize every move, every sound, everything I feel when I’m with her.
I kick off my flip-flops as soon as we enter her room, and she does the same. My hand snakes under her light blue dress, sliding up her outer thigh and coming in contact with smooth satin. With my hand under her ass, I lift, her legs wrapping around my waist as I gently lie her down on the mattress. My lips continue a slow, seductive kiss, nipping at her plump lips and dragging down the delectable column of her neck.
“Rhenn,” she whispers in the dark of night, my chest tightening and my heart pounding. The sound of my name on her lips will forever be ingrained in my memory.
“I’m right here, Angel,” I answer as I push her dress up, exposing her wet panties. My hands keeps moving, tugging at the dress until it’s over her head and thrown on the floor. Then, my eyes feast on the beauty before me, splayed out on the bed like the goddess she is. “This is new?” I ask, taking in the nude colored bra and panty set she’s wearing, noticing the little blue gemstone hearts on both pieces.
“Yes.”
“Did you buy them with me in mind?” I ask, gliding my hands up her waist and cupping her breasts.
She nods, not saying a word, as my hands continue to explore her body. When they begin to trek downward, her legs instantly fall open, an invitation I can’t refuse. My palm moves over the panties and find them wet, which I already suspected. My Angel is always wet and ready for me.
“You look so beautiful in them, I don’t really want to take them off,” I whisper as I move my palm over her pussy, loving the way her hips buck against the pressure. “But I need to see you, Angel. I need to feel you.” No truer words have ever been spoken.
I unclasp the bra and gently slip the panties down her legs. Even though the caveman in me wants to ruin them so no other man could ever see her this way, I don’t want to be a dick. I know this shit is expensive. My eyes feast on her body as I toss the panties over my shoulder. Her legs fall open again, and my mouth starts to water. “I need to taste you.” One last time. I don’t say it, but I think it.
Needing something to focus on besides the end that’s drawing near, I position myself between her legs. The first swipe of my tongue against her pussy is pure heaven, sending my blood pumping feverishly. Marissa writhes beneath me as I lick and suck, driving her closer and closer to her first release. When I add two fingers, I know she’s there. She bucks against my hand, grinding and taking what she needs. The sweetest noises fill the room as she begins the climb, my name falling from her lips as she flies over the edge. It’s beautiful to watch, and I don’t take my eyes off her for one second.
When she relaxes on the bed, I use the opportunity to shed my own clothes. I reach for my wallet, but something stops me. We had sex on that tree last week without a rubber (my first time ever), but have used one ever since. Tonight, I don’t want anything between us. I want to feel all of her for as long as I can. When I glance down at her, she seems to understand my thoughts. Instead of insisting I get one, both of us knowing I should be wearing one, she reaches for me.
And I’m too weak to resist.
I cover her body with my own, my lips devouring hers. I can still taste her on my lips, and it only fuels my desire further. I position myself between her legs, my cock hard and ready, falling to where it wants to be on its own. With her lips securely pressed against mine, I slide home.
Home.
Where I belong.
When I’m seated completely inside, I open my eyes and my breath catches. Her eyes shine brightly with emotion and unshed tears. My hand moves to her face, her beautiful, angelic face, and I catch a lone tear as it slips from her eye. My emotions are all over the place. I want to stay, but know that I can’t. I want to be here – with her – for the rest of my life.
But. I. Fucking. Can’t.
I’m not good for her. I’m not good for anyone. I’m not the staying kind, and even though my heart is telling me that’s complete bullshit, I know it to be true. There are so many things I want to say, but know that I shouldn’t – I can’t. So instead, I say them with my body. I slowly pull out and gently glide back in. Our pace is unhurried but deliberate, as we move in perfect harmony together. More tears slips from her eyes, and it guts me. Like a steak knife to the sternum, I feel the pain reflecting in her eyes.
I make love to her. That’s the only way to describe it. We’re not hurried. There’s no magical position I pull out to get us both off. We lie together, face-to-face, as I make love to the only woman I’ve ever loved.
It took me a mere glance to fall for her, but three weeks to finally admit it.
The orgasm I’m trying to hold off is barreling down on me. My spine is tingling and my balls tighten almost painfully. My lips drag lazily down her neck, expelling little gasps of delight and desire. Her pussy starts to tighten, grabbing my cock in a vise grip, basically ensuring that there’s no way to slow this train down anymore. I make sure to keep my movements slow and deliberate as I pump into her, kissing her lips and touching every square inch of her body. She tilts her hips upward and I press forward once more, sending us both over the edge. Bright white lights filter through my vision as I come, pulsing inside her, and emptying myself of everything I have.
That includes my heart.
I will never be in possession of it again.
It is hers.
When the trembling finally subsides and our bodies start to relax, I turn to my side, taking her with me. I stay buried inside of her pussy, not wanting to feel the emptiness that is surely to come when I finally pull out. Instead, I continue to hold her tight, and she does the same. Her arms are snaked around my chest, her cheek nestled against my shoulder. We lie together like that, for how long, I’m not sure, holding each other and just…breathing.
And then I feel the tears against my skin.
I know that if I look at her now, I’ll forever see this look on her face.
So I don’t look. I can’t.
I hold her so tight that I’m not sure she’s able to breathe. I kiss her forehead and run my hands up and down her body. I memorize every piece of this moment, of her. Exhaustion starts to settle in and the tears finally stop. Her body begins to grow heavy, and I know she’s finally drifting off to sleep. But me? I won’t sleep. Not tonight, and probably not ever again, because when I close my eyes, I know who I’ll see.
My cock finally slips from her body, but I make no move to grab something to clean us up with. I don’t want to move. Not until I have to. I lie there for hours, holding her close and kissing her face. She mumbles a few times in her sleep before softly sighing and snuggling in closer. My name is that sigh.
When the clock finally reads five and I know the sun will be filtering through the windows soon, I start to pull away. I can’t do the goodbye thing. I don’t want to say it. So in a total dick move, I hug her tightly against me, kiss her pliant, soft lips, and say the one thing I told myself I’d never say again. “I love you.”
Then, I extract my body from hers, instantly feeling the loss of her skin against mine, and climb out of bed as quietly as possible. My heart pounds furiously in my chest as I slip on my clothes, only taking my eyes off her sleeping form to pull the shirt over my head. When I’m completely dressed, I know there’s only one last thing to do.
Leave.
Walk out that door one last time.
Needing one last touch, I run my hand over her face. She turns into the touch, another soft sigh spilling from her lips. When she settles again, I know I need to move. If I don’t go now, I’ll never go.
And I need to go.
With leaded feet, I grab my flip-flops and make my way to her door. I don’t look back as I go through the doorway, grabbing my bag on the way. My heart cracks open and slowly starts to bleed as I gently open and close her front door. The early morning air is warm and inviting, yet I feel none of it. I feel nothing but pain. I make my way through the clearing and toward the dock. My boat sits there, mocking me with its bright white color and happy memories.
I may never be able to sail again.
On autopilot, I start up the trolling motor and make my way to my sailboat. I secure the small boat and climb aboard, throwing my bag down the stairs to the galley below. With heavy legs, I head to the helm and prepare to depart. When the boat is ready and the sun is peeking over the horizon, I shoot off a quick text message to my best friend to tell him to bring my truck home. With my phone placed back in my pocket, I fire up the engine. I make one last glance toward the shore, wishing she were standing on the dock one last time, and pull anchor.
I’m off.
Heading back to Jupiter Bay.
Away from Rockland Falls.
Away from Marissa.
Away from my heart.