Page 41 of Licks

That had been life-altering sex. Moving with him, staring into his eyes while he pumped into me hadn’t been like I’d imagined. And I’d imagined it a lot. This had been more intense than expected, deeper. Like we’d never lost our connection.

Or maybe the intensity was because we had lost it. The anger, the regrets—they’d fueled our flames. And what flames they’d been. Unfortunately, flames too often left scars…and unhealthy baby-making thoughts.

While waiting for him, I removed my bra and tank top. I lay on my hard floor, naked and exposed. Instinctively I knew nothing in my life would be the same. I wasn’t the same. I closed my eyes, pressed my fingers against my breastbone, tried to tame my rattling pulse. Heat pricked my neck.

“Gwen, honey?” I opened my eyes. August knelt beside me and ran a warm washcloth up my inner thighs. “You okay?” He worked as he talked, tenderly moving the cloth over my sensitive flesh, and I melted. He was buck as naked got, on his knees, taking care of me. I was a puddle of happiness. I was petrified.

“I don’t think I’m okay.”

He frowned and tossed the cloth behind him. Leaning on his elbow, he pressed to my side, his legs stretched next to mine. With his free hand, he traced dizzying patterns on my abdomen and breasts. “Talk to me.”

“You’re going to leave. Go back to Europe, aren’t you?”

His fingers faltered. He flattened his palm on my ribs, below the curve of my breast. “I am. But—”

“When?”

His answer took too long. He swallowed one too many times. “Two days. Early Monday morning.”

If this was how getting punched in the gut felt, I’d leave boxing out of my workout regime. I curled away from him, stood and gathered my clothes, blinking the burn from my eyes. My throat stung. My belly churned. How would I say goodbye to him?

“Gwen.”

I kept moving, kept breathing, kept blinking.

“Gwen.” When I didn’t answer him a second time, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, stilling my frenetic movements. “Don’t you dare do that. Don’t you dare cut me off again. Not after tonight.”

He cocooned his naked body around mine, forced me to drop my clothes. He spun me around and locked me in his arms. “That was the best sex of my life. It’s the beginning, not the end. We have another day and a half together, and I plan to spend every second of that time with you.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

He sputtered out a laugh. “Are you serious? I’m fucking terrified.”

“How do we do this?”

“Easy.” He loosened his hold on me, stroked my back. “We take this one second at a time, while I figure out the rest. I don’t want you thinking about anything but each moment, because right now I have a beautiful, naked woman in my arms, but she’s frowning. These are not things that should coexist.”

A small smile escaped me. “One second at a time?” It seemed impossible.

“Make each one count. Leave the rest to me.”

I couldn’t pick up and leave my job. I didn’t want to. He had no clue the life I’d created for myself here, in San Francisco. The years and determination it had taken. Yet the prospect of losing this amazing man in two days—one and a half—had spots clouding my vision. I wasn’t sure I could compartmentalize my emotions, give him what he wanted. All I could do was try.

My rigid posture thawed slightly. I nuzzled my face into his neck. “Every second.”

He wove one hand into my hair and sighed. “Every second, Possum.”

When he thickened against me, I extricated myself from his hold. “But no more bikini posters now.”

“Bikini posters?”

Ainsley’s ridiculous comment about him staring at me like my scantily clad poster had adorned his teenage wall wormed into my mind. I motioned to his gorgeous cock, half-stiff and flushed at the tip. “Sex. No sex right now.”

He squinted. “Bikini posters means sex?”

“Just go with it.”

He mumbled something like “Girls are weird,” but his eyelids lowered and he stroked his length once, roughly. “But there will be bikini posters later, right?”