Can't Let You Go

Chapter 18

"You don't have to stop." I whisper as my fingers glide over the ridges of his ribcage.

Running his hands up the bare skin of my back elicits a response far different from any other time he's given me a friendly little rub or pat over my clothes. With fervent breath, my own kisses begin to match the intensity of his. Causing us to separate briefly, I pull his shirt off over his head. in response, he slides a hand under my bra strap, pausing when he finds the closure, so I nod my approval. He pushes and tugs for a few seconds then I feel the elastic constraint give way.

With a slow, light touch, his fingers follow the path of the pressure mark that's still evident in my flesh. As he crosses the sharper curve of my side, I flinch and he quickly breaks contact.

"That tickled," I explain.

I feel him smile. Returning his hand to my body, he rests his palm against my abdomen in a mirror image of my hand on him. His fingers caress the underside of my breast. Sliding my hand up so my fingertips brush across his nipple, I feel it harden. Despite my sexual history, I've never touched a man this way. I make circles around the nub with one finger as he does the same to me.

I kiss his jaw. His neck. His shoulder. His collarbone. Though he is filling my mind, I want him to do the same to me so, I lift my own shirt off. Sliding the straps of my bra down my arms, the small article of clothing drops to the floor with our shirts. He pulls me closer so as much of our exposed fronts can touch as possible. I'm not sure which of us is more warm, but the heat level between us is high.

Continuing to give physical hints, I tilt my face away from him, stretching my neck a bit. When his mouth finds the right spot on my neck, I press my hand flat against his back. Taking that cue as well, he leans us until I'm resting on the arm of the sofa and begins trailing kisses slowly downward. Aching for more, I fill my lungs and hold my breath, lifting my chest towards him. A small moan escapes me when his mouth reaches my nipple. My reaction encourages him.

Gliding his free hand over me, down to my thigh, he skims along the side of my butt and draws his hand back across and over to my other leg. Suddenly using firm pressure as he caresses my inner thigh with his whole hand. His lips return to mine as he kneads my leg and I begin to forget everything except the sensations he's inciting. If only I didn't open my eyes when he hits that spot on my neck again.

That damned Cinderella shoe is directly in my line of vision. The ghost of his love for another woman. A beautiful, perfect woman. A woman he would choose over me if she were here. But she is not. Sitting up, I rise off his lap to stand in front of him. Reaching his hand out to hold mine, he looks up at me with an eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. I take a moment and just look at him, deliberating.

"I think..." Biting the corner of my lip, I hesitate then start over. "We should... maybe we..." I look over at that stupid figurine.

His thumb rubs gently over the back of my hand as he waits.

My eyes on him again, "Do you want to go to your bedroom?" The bold question feels impetuous even though we're both already half naked. There's confidence and desire evident in the tone of my voice, which I didn't know I could manifest.

With a smile unlike any I've seen on him before, he stands. "Very much," he murmurs between our lips as he kisses me. Keeping hold of my hand, he guides me across the living space and into his room.

Once in his bed, we continue kissing and caressing. The new location changes the circumstance and I allow real thoughts to form. How do I feel about the fact that he's in love with another woman? Is he thinking about her or me? Or is he only experiencing the physical response without much thought? Are we still drunk enough for it to be an excuse for our behavior? Will we be able to continue on with life as normal like we did after we spent hours kissing?