Chapter Thirty-One
Ember
I quelled the rage rolling through my veins with a different kind of fire that burned hot enough to incinerate anything in its path.
I was done thinking. Crying. Begging. If this was our last night, then I just wanted to feel. I’d be angry tomorrow.
Josh lifted me as our mouths fed off each other in a kiss so carnal I thought we might combust. My back hit the refrigerator, magnets crashing to the floor. I wound my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at his back, and arched into him, craving the friction of his chest against my breasts.
When I reached for the buttons on his shirt, he grasped both of my hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cool, stainless steel above my head. “December.” My name was rough on his lips, fought for. Just like every inch of this relationship. “Is this what you—”
I cut him off midsentence, setting my mouth to his and rocking my hips against his. At the touch of our tongues, he groaned and stopped trying to make sense of what was happening. “I want your hands on my body. Is that something you can give me?” Because I’m losing in every other department.
His breaths were sweet on my face, coming in erratic bursts as he focused on me, his eyes darkening. Damn, that stare was hot. Everything about him was an aphrodisiac to me, from the sensuous curve of his lips to the incredible way he smelled, like he’d been dipped in pheromones specifically designed to get me wet.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“Like there was ever a question,” he answered, his gaze dropping to my lips a second before he kissed me deeply. He let go of my hands, trailing his fingers down my upstretched arms until he reached my shoulders. Then he tilted my head and assaulted my neck with his lips, teeth, and tongue. White-hot desire drummed through me in a steady beat.
He shifted his hands to under my thighs and held me tight, backing us up through the kitchen. I buried my hands in his hair, putting my entire focus into kissing him, pulling his lower lip with a gentle bite. He hissed, and I found a wall at my back, my ass sliding over something—the railing on the staircase.
He devoured my mouth with small nips, slow kisses, and deep, rhythmic slides of his tongue. I was going to be a puddle on the floor if he kept it up much longer. My hands found the material of his shirt and yanked it free from where my thighs held it prisoner. He took it from there, unbuttoning the first few holes and then pulling it over his head in one smooth motion that I never tired of seeing, not when it revealed the cut lines of what lay beneath.
I placed my hand over the tattoo above his heart, the one he’d gotten for me, fire and ice. “You’re incredible. I never get tired of touching you.”
A cocky grin appeared on his face. “Feeling’s mutual.” He took my mouth again and finished carrying me up the stairs, not bothering to shut our bedroom door behind him.
I landed in the middle of our bed, and he turned on our bedside lamp. The pure want screaming from his eyes had my thighs restless as he took off my shoes. He ran his hands up my legs, pulling them apart, and rose above me, stealing my breath. Josh settled between my thighs, then stripped my top off with a fluid move. “God, December. Every line of you is fucking perfect.”
“To you.” I smiled as his fingers traced the lacy cups of my pink bra.
“For me. You’re mine. Don’t you dare forget it.”
His kiss was as hot as a branding iron, and just as effective. He made quick work of my shorts and thong, tossing them haphazardly across the room. My bra was next, leaving me naked. I leaned up on my elbows as his shorts and boxers hit the floor, and then he was as gloriously bare as I was. My core clenched and my breath quickened as he lowered himself over me, skin against delicious skin. “Are you mine?” I asked as he skimmed kisses over my collarbone.
“In every way. You own me, December.”
Except where the army does. The thought snuck into my head, and a tidal wave of anger swept over me, wiping everything else away for that second. My fingers gripped his hair as he covered my nipple with his lips, transforming the anger back into lust in a way only Josh was capable of. The mix was overwhelming, both emotions raw, passionate, all-encompassing.
I pushed on his shoulder and he complied, rolling so he sat with me straddling him. I knew I only had as much control in bed as he was willing to let go, which made these moments all the sweeter. But sweet wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I poured every emotion I couldn’t contain into my kiss—my love, frustration, desire, and red-hot fury. He palmed my breasts as I rolled my hips against his erection, and I caught his moan in my mouth. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
“Good,” I whispered, rising up on my knees to let him slide between my folds.
He sucked in his breath, resting his forehead on my collarbone, and then had me gasping as he swirled his thumbs over my nipples. “Oh no, not yet,” he said as he ran his mouth along my jawline, the stubble from his cheek leaving a slight burn in his wake.
“Josh,” I begged, but he caught my hips before I could sink down over him.
“Not yet,” he repeated. One hand slid between us, and my hips bucked as he brushed over my clit, a shock of need radiating through my limbs to my toes and bringing a gasp to my lips. “I’ll never get enough of this,” he said as his fingers slid along me, and he slipped one inside.
I groaned his name, my head crashing to his shoulder as all my thoughts centered on the magic his hands created. He added another finger and pressed his palm against my clit as I rocked against him. Damn, that felt amazing. He knew exactly how fast to move, where to press, where to stroke. My body was as familiar to him as his own, and he played it expertly. “There,” he whispered, as his fingers curled with each withdrawal.
I whimpered, riding his hand as tension built in my muscles, need spiraling tighter and tighter with each movement of his hands, each kiss he placed to the nape of my neck. “Josh.” His name was a plea, a prayer, a lamentation. I wanted him inside me. Now. I needed the blissful surrender I only had with him, the moments when we were both lost to the other, where nothing else could intrude.
“Not yet.” His voice was gravelly, his breath uneven, but his hands steady as he worked me with one and led my hips with the other.
“Don’t make me beg.” Anger bled into my tone, and he heard it, lifting his face to mine.
“Why would you ever beg?” he whispered against my lips as his fingers thrust faster, deeper. My core tightened, my moves becoming erratic, frantic. “You’re the one with all the power.”
He pressed harder on my clit and rubbed in just the right spot. Every muscle in my body locked, the tension at the point where I thought I might break. “You’re so close, I can feel you squeeze my fingers. So damn tight. Now, come,” he ordered.
God help me, I did, crying his name as he pressed where I needed him. An orgasm took me, so powerful that I saw lights behind my eyelids. He held on to me as I shuddered over him, my body rippling with the small aftershocks he brought with simple motions of his hand.
We locked eyes as his fingers slipped free, dragging my wetness up my stomach until he gripped my waist. I rose to my knees until we were lined up, and then sank down without waiting, so wet that he slid in with little resistance and the perfect amount of friction.
“December,” he hissed my name as I paused, letting my body adjust for a moment.
His eyes were wild as I began to ride him, watching every nuance of his reaction to the motion of my hips, the angle and roll. I concentrated for as long as possible, until the pleasure became all-encompassing. Then I simply obeyed my body and enjoyed.
It wasn’t long before he flipped us with a groan, settling me under him. I almost pushed him back, but he raised one of my knees and lifted my leg over his arm so he could slide deeper. Holy shit. Josh started a pounding rhythm, pulling out slowly only to slam home so perfectly that I couldn’t stop the small, keening cries that escaped. He kissed me in time with his thrusts, our breath mingling. My hands reached for his back, my nails scoring lines down his skin, desperate to hold him, keep him closer to me.
He stayed in perfect rhythm until sweat beaded on both of us and that same tension built again within me, demanding release. “Josh,” I cried as I spiraled.
He adjusted my leg, changed the angle so he rubbed against my clit with every thrust, and sent me straight over the edge into an orgasm even more powerful than the first. He met me a few moments later, looking at me as if I was some kind of miracle to him and calling out my name.
I would never tire of this.
My hunger for him, the need that made my body sing the minute he walked into the room, only grew.
I stroked his hair as our breathing slowed, our heart rates calmed, until he rolled onto his side, kissing my shoulder. Then he sat up, resting his forehead in his hands.
Red, angry lines crossed his skin. Shit. “Josh, your back,” I whispered.
He stood, looking over his shoulder in the mirror. “Well worth it. It’s actually hot as hell.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized anyway.
He slid next to me, bringing me onto my side to face him. My body was limp, still vibrating with residual energy. “It’s not like you were trying to,” he said with a little smirk.
“Maybe I was,” I answered honestly, knowing that hadn’t been all about love. There had been too much anger in me for that.
He took my hands and pressed kisses to my fingers. “You don’t need your nails for that. One of your tears draws far more blood.”
The air shifted between us, everything spoken downstairs having finally caught up with us. “What are we going to do? I don’t know how to say good-bye to you again.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before refocusing on me. “I think we have two options for right now. The first, is we go downstairs and finish this talk over a dinner that is way cold by now.”
“And the second?” I asked, in no hurry to get back to the angry discussion that wouldn’t change a damn thing.
He shrugged. “We get in the bathtub and start this all over again.” His tongue swirled over my index finger.
I had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. Would he change his mind?
No, you know better than that.
Would I have to take him to the hangar again? Relive that good-bye? Panic rose in my chest until it crept up my throat. Shut it down. Now. If I had one night to spend with him, what would I rather do?
“I have been wanting to try out that tub.”
His grin was enough to know I’d chosen the right option.
Morning light filtered in through our window.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and reached across the sheets for Josh, but he wasn’t there. Come to think, the sun was really bright. We’d been up until at least three a.m., barely breaking away from making love for food, and even that had been hand-fed between kisses. No wonder I was still exhausted.
I rolled over, grabbing my cell from the nightstand.
9:30 a.m.
“Josh?” I called out, then flew from the bed. “What time do you have to be there?” I asked again, this time louder.
I threw on clothes and grabbed a pair of flip-flops, racing down the stairs as I pulled my hair into a makeshift knot. “Josh?”
The living room was empty, and he wasn’t in the kitchen, either.
A sick feeling settled in my stomach, and my mouth watered like I was about to vomit. He wouldn’t. There was no way.
The dishes had been done, the dining room table was bare but for a few papers. I raced past them and flung open the door to the garage. His bags were gone.
He’d left.
A buzzing sound filled my head, and the world seemed to slow as I spun, looking for any sign that I was wrong, that he might still be here. I dialed his phone number, but the voicemail picked up on the first ring.
Jagger. Jagger would know.
I ran back into the house, through the kitchen and into the dining room, but stopped when I saw the papers again. My legs felt like they were dragging concrete as I took the last few steps.
Oh God, there was an envelope with my name on it.
“Josh, what did you do?”
I cracked the seal and pulled out the lined paper with shaking hands.
My December,
I couldn’t make you say good-bye again. This one’s on me, on my own cowardice. I’m not sure I would have had the strength to leave you. You are everything that is good and right in my world, and the only woman I have ever or will ever love. You’ve been right about so many things, especially that it’s my career that’s dominating our life, our future. So go to Turkey. Live your dream. I called Luke, and he’ll be waiting at the airport for you next week. Maybe we both need these next couple of months. You to prepare your future, me to heal my past. So take this time. Figure out what your life can look like if you’re not limited by my career…by me. You deserve everything this world has to offer, and the chance to make a choice once you actually see that your only option isn’t just the next-door neighbor you fell in love with at twenty. The whole world is open to you, just as my heart always will be.
Just don’t forget that you own me.
All my love,
Josh
I stifled a sob with my fist and sank into a chair. There, underneath the letter, was a plane ticket to Turkey with the printed itinerary, and underneath, our lease.
But it wasn’t our lease anymore. It showed that our rent had been paid through the end of this year, but it was only in my name.
I glanced around the room. His things were still here, everything but Will’s ring. He hadn’t moved out, but he sure as hell had made it easier to walk out if he needed to.
Or maybe just easier for me if something happened to him over there.
“Damn you, Joshua Walker,” I whispered as a new fear gripped me.
He’d left, deployed, and hadn’t even given me the chance to kiss him one last time, or tell him how much I loved him. But maybe that’s what last night had been. Instead of a tearful mess at the hangar, he’d made love to me until we were both too exhausted to keep our eyes open any longer.
Maybe that was his good-bye.
A knock sounded, and I dropped the lease onto the table and sprinted for the door. I flung it open, stupidly hoping, even though I logically knew he wouldn’t knock at his own house.
Paisley stood in front of me, her eyebrows drawn together, biting her lower lip. “Oh, Ember.”
“He’s gone,” I whispered.
She nodded. “Jagger took him about a half hour ago, while I was out. I didn’t know, I swear. I would have gotten you. I can’t believe he did that.”
“He’s gone,” I said again, unable to say anything else. My vision blurred, and my throat clogged until a sob tore through, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. “He’s gone!”
Paisley caught me as I collapsed to the floor, a puddle of tears and anger.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
But it didn’t feel okay. No, this was an excruciating ache that threatened to separate my heart from my body. Hell, I almost wished it would. My breaths came in heaping spurts that bordered hyperventilation, my entire being focused on the simple, unchangeable fact that he’d left, gone back to Afghanistan.
I wanted to hold him, kiss him, and promise that as angry as I was, this didn’t change a thing. I was his, and he was mine, just as it always would be. There wasn’t any other way for us to exist. I didn’t need two months away from him to know that he was the only future for me.
Paisley’s arms tightened and held me against her shoulder until I cried myself out and my sobs quieted. “What are you going to do?” she asked, stroking my hair back from my forehead like I was a child.
I thought about the lease, the house, the plane ticket.
“Pack.”