Whoa…hang on…
Love?
Love?!
Am I—the girl with serious trust issues—actually saying I’m in love with this man? This sweet, wonderful, spectacularly sexy, exceptional kisser of a man?
I push that question aside and instead focus on all of the feelings. The weight of his body, the warmth of his skin, the scratchiness along his jaw…it’s like he’s a drug and I am utterly and completely addicted to him.
And yet…I know we could stop kissing right now and I’d be equally euphoric about sitting here and talking. I just enjoy being in his presence.
When we break apart, he caresses my cheek, and the look he gives me tells me he feels the same exact way.
“How is this all going to work?” he asks, shifting so we’re back to our original positions.
“I don’t know yet. I basically just decided earlier about the move. So I guess when I go back to Seattle, I just deal with my lease and start looking for a place back in Raleigh.”
“That makes sense. Practical. Logical. Any idea if you want a house? A condo? An apartment?”
“I don’t have a lot of stuff, so probably just an apartment to start. I need room for my office stuff so it would need to be at least a two-bedroom, but I’m sure that won’t be hard to find.”
He goes quiet and I’d bet good money that he’s already thinking of apartment complexes near him. Finding a place isn’t going to be an issue. I’m not overly fussy and as long as I’m not on the other side of the country from him, it will be fine.
“The complex I live in is fairly new. Actually, they’re building phase two, and I know all the units aren’t rented yet. I could maybe show it to you online tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Mmm…that sounds great. Like I said, this all just came to me, but I guess it’s never too soon to start looking.”
We lay there in companionable silence, my head resting lightly on his shoulder. His hand is gently stroking my arm, the warmth of his touch steady and reassuring. We’re clearly both lost in our own thoughts, but there’s no rush, no need to speak. The silence between us is comfortable.
Ash turns slightly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I look up at him with a soft smile, his eyes holding a tenderness that doesn’t need to be explained. His fingers move up to graze my cheek, lingering for a moment, before he leans down to press a soft kiss on my forehead. It’s a simple gesture, yet—again—it feels like the most intimate of connections.
I turn my face into his touch, my hand moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. There’s a sense of calm between us—a stark contrast to the passionate kiss of just moments ago, an unspoken bond that transcends anything we can articulate. Every little gesture, every soft touch, speaks volumes.
As we sit here, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the moment, it’s as if nothing else exists but this shared space. No words, no distractions—just the quiet intimacy of being fully present with each other. I’ve never been one who enjoyed long silences. I mean, I live a fairly solitary life and I’m used to the quietness, but never when I’m with someone. Typically, I want to fill any lull with dialogue or some sort of action.
But not with Ash.
My eyes feel heavy, and yet I don’t want to stop looking at him. I want to ask him about where he lives, but I don’t want to disturb our peace. I want to feel his touch everywhere, but I love that we don’t have to be doing anything physical.
I have no idea how much time passes, but ultimately, he’s the one to speak.
“Do you think the movies tomorrow night are going to inspire you to start writing?”
“Maybe. I have a feeling I’m too distracted to really begin anything. I’m enjoying being at the beach and having this time with everyone.” I smooth my hand over his bare chest and sigh. “And if we’re going for total transparency, I don’t want to start writing until after you leave.”
His eyes go a little wide. “Why?”
“Ash…come on. We have so little time together. The clock is literally ticking. When I start a book, I go in hard and don’t resurface very often. I think this trip is going to be more about coming up with a plot and outline that I can give to my editor.”
“Have you talked to her since you’ve been here?”
I shake my head. “I told her about the funeral and this trip, so she’s not expecting to hear from me until I’m back in Seattle.”
“Is that where her office is?”
“No, she’s up in New York. I’ve only been to see her in person a handful of times. Sometimes we’ll meet up at a conference and have lunch or dinner together, but other than that, everything that I do is handled remotely.”
“I wish I could do that,” he admits. “Well…it’s what I’m working towards. I’m the guy who gets sent out to do a lot of troubleshooting. Not to brag, but…I’m fantastic at what I do.”
