(Braden)
“This is how you talk to her when no one else is listening, And this is how you help her when the muse goes missing, You vanish so she can go drowning in a dream again.”
—JASON ISBELL, “24 FRAMES”
I wake up to Amber. Her beautiful face studying mine as I blink away the last of what was a restless night’s sleep. Once I’m fully awake, her tired eyes seem to say that she’s been at this for a while. Watching me sleep, taking in these last moments quietly so she could file them away in some special part of her memory.
Amber sneaks one hand out from under the covers and gives me an impossibly sweet, childlike wave, her fingertips curling only a little. Then she presses her fingertips gently to her mouth and skates the pads across her lips thoughtfully. A faint smile curves across her mouth.
“My heart hurts,” she whispers.
I take a rough breath. “Mine, too.”
She smiles again, somehow grateful as much as it is sad. Her hand slips back under the covers, coming to rest over my chest. She keeps it there, her open palm pressed to the place where she can feel my heartbeat, a slow and heavy thump that backs up the claim that my heart hurts, too.
Her hand starts to move, a slow descent across my chest and down my abs, until I’m in her warm grasp. Amber starts to stroke gently, still over the fabric of my boxer briefs, yet that barrier isn’t near enough to keep my cock from stirring to life completely. My poor dick has equally poor judgment, so he doesn’t understand the circumstances here. He thinks this is one hell of a way to start the day. But my head and my heart know what a mess Amber and I have found ourselves in, and even if I’m hard and hurting, that still doesn’t make this a good idea.
“Amber,” I croak, “we shouldn’t do this.”
She wiggles closer, near enough to kiss the base of my throat and up across my neck, so that the scent of her honey-muddled strawberry hair tickles just under my nose. Her bare thighs are touching mine, and her breasts are pressed to my chest.
“Why?”
“Because . . .” My words falter when her fingertips steal under the waist of my boxers. I suck in a harsh breath and hold it, closing my eyes as I wait for her hand to find my length. When she does, I sink into the sensation with a slow exhale, knowing that nothing in my life will ever be better than this—better than waking up next to Amber, her sweet smile for me, her body pressed to mine, and her hands on me.
“Because? Because why, Braden? Tell me why we shouldn’t enjoy this and love each other this morning.”
That’s because why, I want to say. Because we love each other. She may be saying it another way—as some flowery euphemism for sex—but the words alone, without any redefinition, spoke the truth. Because we love each other. But last night that love wasn’t enough. I couldn’t see past the choices she was about to make, and she couldn’t fathom going another way. In the end, we chose ourselves.
I open my eyes, peering down to Amber’s face tipped to mine as I try to figure out how to give her an answer—without bringing love into the mix. But her bright blue eyes are wide and wanting, nothing but openness in her gaze. My mouth finds hers before I can give her a reason why, or give myself a good reason why not.
Amber starts to work her hand over my length as we kiss, using the touch she knows I love. An easy roll of her hand, her fingers encircling the head loosely each time she slips over the tip. My hand lands on her hip and I dig my nails into her flesh until there’s a bite she can’t ignore and Amber breaks our kiss to let out a soft whimper. And the sound, the need there, is too much.
I need to stop, but I can’t, and suddenly we’re devouring each other with openmouthed kisses, tugging and yanking on the few clothes we’re wearing until we’re both bare and my body is on top of hers. We’re both breathing hard when we pause and lock eyes. I smooth a few stands of her hair back from her face, tucking them behind her ears. Amber cups my face in her hands and whispers my name.
Taking myself in hand, my eyes stay on hers. I keep the first few strokes unrushed, deliberately doing what I can to draw this moment out because when I give in to what I want and I know she loves, those hard thrusts will take us too close to the edge.
And when we both come, we’re done.
And I don’t want this to be over.
Even when I do surrender, it’s all I can think about. Amber is close, I can feel it, along with the sound of her soft cries breaking in my ear.
But I don’t want this to be over.
Amber’s voice disappears and her body goes taut. My body wants more, so I do my best to keep going, wringing everything I can from her until I can’t keep up because my own release is too much, emptying myself inside her until my entire body is shaking.
And still, I don’t want this to be over.
Amber’s arms wind around my neck, pulling me to her so roughly that my arms buckle and I nearly crush her. She wraps her body to mine and for every exhale I take, she inhales; I do the same with hers. Giving and taking, as we say goodbye.