Not on top of Theodore Clayton.
But here I was, straddling him in a hotel bed I swore I’d walk away from an hour ago. His hands were on my hips, driving himself into me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
Maybe I should.
But right now, the only thing I could feel was his heartbeat crashing into mine, and his dick inside me working away all the tension in my body.
And I hated that I missed it.
His mouth was on my neck, murmuring apologies he’s already said, apologies I’m not ready to believe, but somehow still need. His voice was gravel-soft.
I tilted my head back and let him kiss the hollow of my throat. I shouldn’t. Every nerve in my body knows I shouldn’t. But the way he touched me made my chest ache.
“I should hate you,” I whispered.
“I know.” His lips ghosted over my collarbone. “You probably do.”
I leaned down and kissed him. Hard.
Not because I forgive him, but because I was desperately trying to remember how we used to be. His tongue parted my lips, and I gave in—just for now. Just for this moment, I didn’t have to decide anything except how much of myself I’m willing to give him before I leave.
My hands slid up his chest. He groaned softly, rolling us over so I was beneath him so that he could begin drilling me, and just like that, I was drowning again.
Every kiss he placed on my body felt like a memory.
“But I fucking love you,” he said against my cheek, driving so fucking deep in me I felt cramps in my stomach. “I don’t know how to live without you.”
“You should’ve…thought…about that before you…lied to me.” I fought to get the words out as he pounded into me.
He lifted his head, eyes locking with mine. “I didn’t lie. I just…didn’t tell you.”
“Same difference,” I breathed.
He sighed. “Then. I’m sorry for both.”
We didn’t speak for a while after that. The only sound in the room was groans and moans until we both released.
Doubt: Leave.
When it’s over, we lie tangled in silence. His arm was draped over my waist. My fingers traced the fading scar on his bicep. We didn’t say anything.
Doubt: Get up, Carmen.
The minute his breathing evened out and I felt him slip into sleep, I eased out from under his arm.
I got dressed in the clothes I laid out before I ever saw him this morning.
T-shirt. Sweats. Socks.
The towel from earlier was still on the floor, along with his pants. His shirt was thrown over the arm of the chair.
Doubt: Just get your shit and go.
I picked up my carry-on and glanced back at him. He was asleep on his back, one arm across the empty side of the bed, and I just stared at him.
He looked peaceful.
When I looked at him, I replayed everything on loop.
