“It’s notnotthe same,” heinterjected gently. “It’s an abrupt change in your normal, and now you’re wonderingwhere to go from here.”
“Yeah.” I pushed out asorrowful exhale. “Exactly.”
“Don’t think about itright now, though,” he continued. “That’ll all be there later. The next coupleof days are going to be busy and you won’t get a chance to relax. The daysthat’ll come after will be hard. So, right now, you should try to sleep as muchas you can.”
“I know.” But I knew itwasn’t going to happen. Not yet. Not when my thoughts were too loud for me tofind any semblance of peace. I needed a distraction. I needed something to takemy mindoff ofthe reality I was facing.
So, I diverted my focusto the firmness of Jon’s chest, pushing against my back with every inhale. ThenI fixated my attention on his arm, wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling meinto the bend of his hips.Big spoon,little spoon. My hand moved to lay over his. Our fingers overlapped, thenshifted, interlocking and gripping together as I unhooked his arm from mywaist, and rolled over.
I laid on my back andturned my head, seeking his mouth in the darkness and when I met mydestination, there was no hesitancy or build-up. His head inclined and hismouth laid over mine, shushing my frantic mind with a kiss so immediately deep,I could think of nothing else but him and the careful caress of his tongue. Thegentle touch of his fingers against my waist. The patient waves of breathcoming in and out of his lungs. He kissed like the gentleman that he was,making every emotion he held for me evident with each movement of his lips andtongue. It was enough to move me to tears, if I had any more left in me to cry.
We kissed lazily, slowand languorous, until my chestheavedand my hips roseinvoluntarily from the bed. “Jon,” I whispered against his mouth. “I need you.”You. Notsex. Notmore. Justyou, in whatever capacity he’d bewilling to give. Aside from the gentle sweep of his lips against my cheek, neckand mouth over the past few weeks, neither of us had made any move for more,not since that night at Devin’s.
Maybe it had been thegirls, or maybe it had been our hectic lives, keeping us from acting on what weboth wanted. But now, he was nodding against me, holding the kiss as it builtto something closer to desperation. His fingers unraveled from mine, and when Iknew he was working his pajama pants off his legs, I hurried to get myself outof those boxers. I was thinking that maybe this moment could pass, that wecould miss it if we didn’t hold on tight enough. But while my movements werejerky and frantic, Jon’s remained smooth and patient, albeit passionate, andwhen I attempted to pull him to me, he shook his head.
“Tess, relax. We haveall night.” His voice was rasped, strangled with need, and I let myself closemy eyes andfeel. The slow,painstakingly beautiful strokes of his fingers against my breasts and betweenmy legs. The delicious weight of his body over mine, fitting between my openthighs and delivering inch by inch of warmth in slow, even strokes. Then, withthe fullness of his body inside mine, I felt the sensation of being whole.
I couldn’t imagine whatI’d be doing, if Jon O’Dell wasn’t in my life and what kind of sleep-deprivedgrief I’d have fallen into by this point. I couldn’t help the tears as theyonce again worked their way down my cheeks, into his palms and my hair.
Forget my book. Forgetbeing published. Forget dreams.
This was all I needed.
“Tess,” he whisperedagainst my lips in between presses of his mouth on mine. “God … I love you.”
For one breathlessmoment, I remembered yesterday morning, when his daughters had coaxed him intosaying the words. I hadn’t known how to take it then, whether he was sincere orsimply making his children happy with a sentiment meant only for them. But now,I heard the raw, naked truth in his voice. It wasn’t just a thing to say, inthe darkness of his bedroom, to comfort or enhance. His honesty tying theletters and syllables together. Nothing I’d heard in my life had sounded sotrue and I doubted for a second that he had ever said it before.
My fingers gripped hisshoulders, as though I wasafraidhe would float awayif I didn’t hold on tight enough, and I whispered, “I love you.” I prayed Isounded as honest as he had. Prayed I sounded as honest as I felt.
Jon nodded, dipping hisforehead to touch mine. “I hoped you did,” he whispered, the movements of ourhips becoming more purposeful and precise. Then, he laughed. “I guess thismakes you my girlfriend now.”
The hammering of myheart rang in my ears as I found my laughter through my tears. “I guess so.” Itfelt so juvenile, so innocent, and God, it was exactly what I needed at a timewhen I felt so old and beaten.
With our mutualconfession fueling our movements, we held on tight to each other and fell overthe precipice of climax. Crashing and then floating along in a euphoric stateof forgetful bliss, where no thoughts of loss, or death or sadness could touchus. I felt invincible in those fleeting moments, unbreakable despite alreadybeing broken, and I wished I could live there forever. High on him, and this,and numb to everything that wanted to bring me down.
But all good thingscome to an end, and with one final, tremored sigh, Jon rested again on hisside, his hand laying over my belly.
With his forehead to mytemple, he breathed deeply and uttered a “wow” that I felt so deeply, my bonesshuddered.
“Yeah,” I answered,laying my hand over his, to find his fingers shaking.
“Feel better?” Hechuckled gently, and I laughed in reply, the sound husky and weird to my ears.
“I’m not sure better isthe word, but …” I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to. How it felt soimpossible to feel complete and shattered all at once. How it confused my heartand befuddled my brain and how I just wanted to live in this bed forever andever until time ceased to exist for us both. I didn’t know how to say all ofthat without crying, and so, I said the next best thing. “I love you.”
His lips touched myear. “I love you, too, Tess.” His thumb stroked an arched pattern against my stomach,just outside of my bellybutton, and he sighed. “I never thought I’d say thatagain,” he confessed quietly. “Hell, I never thought I’d dothisagain, with anybody.”
“Does it feel wrong?” Idared to ask.
Jon shook his head. Hedidn’t even hesitate. “Nothing about you could ever feel wrong,” he whispered,and somehow, with his words reverberating through my mind, I managed to keep mythoughts quiet enough to fall asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JON
Iwoke upfeeling brand-new. Buffed andshined, shimmering even, and that left me feeling a little guilty. Not about mypast, but about the pain I knew Tess was in. She was hurting, and although Iwas hurt for her, I was also elated. That made me feel a little bad, but try asI might, I couldn’t chase it away.
Deciding to let hersleep a little longer, I slid my arm out from beneath her head and climbed outof bed. Immediately upon standing up, I caught sight of Beth’s picture on mydresser and let my eyes meet hers.
