No Tomorrow

“Blue, we should talk....”

He hovers above me with his messy hair hanging down into my face and stares at me with a veil of denial already in his eyes.

“Don’t say it, whatever it is, Piper. I don’t want to hear it if you have a boyfriend or a husband—”

I reach up to stroke his stubbled cheek. “No. Not at all. It’s not that—”

His lips touch mine again, soft now, almost pleading. “Good. Me either. We’ll talk later....”

“But—”

His warm lips slip across my throat, and his teeth nip a trail, leaving his mark. “Shh....”

I shouldn’t give in to his shushing me, no matter how much we want each other. I should sit up and force him to listen to me so I can tell him about our daughter before we go any further physically or emotionally. And if the realization that he has a child doesn’t wreck him and cause him to have a meltdown, then we can ravish each other all night long, and hopefully move forward.

I open my mouth to protest, but he moves his lips back up to mine, kisses me in that desperate way that weakens me.

“I can’t talk, Piper. Or think,” he says softly, then brushes his lips across mine again. “Just let me get lost in you… please.”

I’ve never been able to resist or deny him. My body craves his. My heart beats in perfect tune with his. My soul meshed with his the day we met. I need and want to get lost in him, too. More than anything.

So I give in, and I shush.

For now.

My silence doesn’t last long. Faint sighs and throaty moans soon drift from my lips in response to his hands and mouth reclaiming every inch of my body. Each time I reach for him, he pins my hands back down on the bed and immobilizes me with deeper kisses, imprisoning me between his strong thighs. I ache to touch him, dig my nails into him, to feel that he’s real and not another one of my many dreams.

“Don’t move,” he says gruffly, climbing off the bed. I’m all eyes and quivers watching him unbuckle his leather belt and kicking off his black combat boots to step out of his jeans.

“Do these expire?” he asks, holding up a crumpled foil condom he just pulled from his wallet. The same wallet he had when we first met.

“I’m not sure. How long has it been in there?”

“Years. Since us.”

I lean up on my elbows. “You haven’t used it?”

“For what?”

“Um, for safe sex?”

He grabs my foot, lifts it up to his bare chest, and removes the strappy heel. Heat floods between my thighs when he bends down to plant an open kiss at the arch of my foot.

“I haven’t touched anyone,” he says, repeating the same erotic actions with my other foot. “Don’t you get it, Piper? You’re it.” Placing the condom between his teeth, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and yanks them over my ankles.

I blink at him, disbelieving. It’s been easy for me to not be with another man. I’ve dated very little over the past few years and none of those dates ever led to sex. Sure, a few guys tried, but I always sabotaged the moment. Besides, I work long hours and spend all my free time with my daughter or walking Acorn. I don’t have time to start a serious relationship. As unconventional as it is, Josh and I have a friend-lationship that works for us on a non-physical level.

But how could Blue possibly be celibate for so long? It’s unthinkable. He’s a guy. A very good-looking and extremely sensual one. And he’s a musician. Women love musicians, especially sexy, dark, brooding ones like him. We’re inexplicably drawn to them, like chocolate or coffee or diamonds. We want to fix them. We want to be the one. The one to change them, the one to win their hearts and stop their wandering ways. The one who makes them forget all other women. We want to be the it, as he said.

I have no idea how four-foot-eleven, one-hundred-pound, boring me could possibly be anyone’s it.

“You’re serious?” I ask.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he tears open the foil and rolls the latex over his shaft with the city lights from the window behind him illuminating his shape in the dark room. Wild and wavy hair tumbles over his shoulders and the feather catches the light, glinting with iridescence. Such a bittersweet symbol of his beloved bird, tethered to him, without the freedom to soar.

He leans over my body, between my spread thighs, and grabs my throat, pulling me up to him.

“Shhh....” He kisses me, one hand still closed around my throat, while the other reaches between my legs to stroke my wet lips. He hums with desire when I spread my thighs wider, inviting him in.

Begging him, is more accurate.

His name is all over my lips when two skull-ringed fingers thrust inside me and begin expertly stroking, zeroing in on all the right places, just like he used to. The span of his hand clenched over my throat tightens slightly, capturing the vibration of my moans against his palm.

“I missed you so fucking much, Ladybug. Every day. Every night.”

I’m close to delirious with want—wanting to give him everything, wanting him to take everything. Wanting him to never leave again. Wanting to stay in this moment forever. Wanting to forget, wanting to hope.

I drop my head against the bed when he releases his hold on my neck so he can grab my legs and swiftly flip me over. I’m dragged to the edge of the bed, lifted up onto my knees, and spread wide before him. He inches his hand lightly up my back, skimming over the goosebumps, and grabs my hair, twisting it around his hand and tugging my head up and backward to meet his mouth. His hips slam hard into my ass, driving his cock balls-deep into me. He growls against my mouth like a wild animal when I arch my back, angling myself to take him deeper. My walls stretch around his thick cock, my fingers clench the bedspread. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, moving his free hand across my belly, up to cup my breasts, squeezing my nipples into the channel of his fingers. The heat coming off his body is like a fire enveloping us and our bodies, slippery with sweat, slap against each other. I’m spinning into euphoria, falling fast down the rabbit hole, going back to that exquisite place where there’s no time, no place. There’s just us.

I break away from his lips, gasping for breath and whimpering as orgasms quake through my body. His ab muscles tense deliciously against the small of my back, his breath quickens, and I feel his body pulse inside me.

Leaning his forehead against the back of my head, he rests there, catching his breath before slowly pulling out and rolling onto his back next to me. I crawl into his outstretched arm and rest my head against his chest. I trace small circles over his stomach with my fingertips and watch his muscles dance beneath my touch.

His voice, soft and deep, is melodic in the dark quietness of the room. “I know I show it in messed-up ways, but I really do love you,” he says.

“I know, Blue. I never doubted that.”

His heart beats wildly under my head. He moves his hand lazily up and down my arm. I can feel him thinking.

“Do you love me, Piper?”

I sit up to face him, even though we can barely see each other in the dark. “I love you more than words can say. I never stopped, not for a minute.”

He gently squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He rises from the bed, disappears into the bathroom for several minutes, then comes out with a white towel wrapped around his narrow hips. Next he goes out on the balcony and lights up a cigarette, and I watch him smoking and looking out over the city.

I wonder what he’s thinking about.

I wonder what I’m doing here.

I wonder why I’m so afraid to tell him why I came here.

I wonder where we go from here, and from there, when I tell him.

I have to tell him.

While he’s smoking I find my way to the bathroom and wash my face and fix my major bed-head. I sit on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub and stare down at my shiny pink-tipped toenails, trying to regroup my brain. I didn’t think we’d go from zero to sixty tonight. I should have slammed on the brakes before things careened straight to his bed.

When I come out of the bathroom, he’s lying on the bed, propped up on a pile of stark white pillows. It’s odd seeing him in a room surrounded by lamps and furniture and television remotes.

“You have a glass shower and a huge jet tub,” I say.

“Weird, huh?”

I crawl onto the bed next to him and he pulls me up against him, wrapping his tattooed arm around me as if we’ve never been apart.

“You deserve to have nice things.”

“To me it’s just stuff that water comes out of.”

I giggle and turn to kiss him. “You’re adorable.”

“I want to try again.”

The smile slowly fades from my lips. Not because I’m not happy, but because I’m confused and unsure.

“What do you mean?”

“Us. We could try again, right?”

“Yes. We could.” I swallow hard over the lump of cautious excitement in my throat. “I mean, I want to. Really. Things are a lot different now though...”

I place the first breadcrumb down and hope he follows it.

“I know. But we could do it. I could stay with you when we’re off tour. And we could still see each other when I’m touring. We could fly to each other.”