Chapter Thirty-Two
My entire body melts. Melts and turns to a piddly, liquid mess and if Caleb weren’t holding onto me, I’d fall.
He kisses the same way he banters, a little teasing here, a little nip there.
A gentle sparring of our lips and tongues, a back and forth that causes electricity to race up and down my body.
I didn’t know that kissing could be so all-consuming. That it could ignite a fire deep within you and drive you crazy with a need. A need to be closer, a need for more, a need that’s much too intense for an amateur like me because no way in hell am I ever stopping.
I drag my nails across his scalp and he slides his hand behind my head, angling my face to deepen the kiss. I didn’t think it was possible, but the kiss turns even hotter. Hungrier. As if he hasn’t eaten in days and I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet.
But my body still demands more, even though I don’t know what more is. All I know is that this feels like so much more than a kiss. It’s a trading of secrets, an exchange of souls.
This can’t be normal. How do people function and go to work and concentrate on anything at all when this exists? Are they doing it wrong? They must be.
When we finally pull back, we grin at each other for a long moment. Then he cradles my neck and looks at me so tenderly that it steals my breath away. How insane is this? The boy who once taught the girl how to build a campfire and ride a bike is now the man giving the woman a lesson in love.
In a public restroom, no less.
“Is it always this amazing?” I pant, searching his eyes.
“No,” he says, breathes heavily. “Never like this. Never this good. If you only knew the things I’ve thought about doing to you .
. .” he says huskily, then rains kisses down my neck.
I pull my hair back to grant him easier access because I’m helpful like that.
His hands glide deliciously lower, gently pressing the space between by tailbone and butt.
“You’ve thought about doing things to me?” I grin.
“Only every day for the last ten years,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure your body was designed to drive me crazy.”
“Really?” I’m not sure why this makes me feel so giddy, but it does.
“Why do you think I work out so much?” His lips press against the skin below my collar bone. “I need an outlet for all my frustration.”
“I could always, um, help you with that,” I gasp as he kisses the valley of my cleavage.
“Thank fuck,” he murmurs.
It feels so incredibly good that I barely notice when the door opens and an older woman in an electric wheelchair starts making her way inside.
She makes a startled “Oh!” and then I shriek, and then we both stare at each with a combination of horror and embarrassment while she switches into the reverse gear, and the automatic door slowly, slowly, swishes shut.
“You didn’t lock it?” I say to Caleb, mortified.
“I thought I did, but I might’ve been distracted.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “Maybe we should find a more comfortable place to continue this conversation. Or not,” he adds a moment later, when he sees my face. He drops his hands and steps away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“No no,” I say quickly. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Caleb, because I do. I really, really do. It’s just that—” Everything is moving so fast. Too fast. The fear that’s been my constant companion for the last twenty-five years is rearing its ugly head again.
“What?”
“I think you would agree that, you know . . . this was fun—”
“Fun.”
Why is he looking at me like I just murdered a puppy? “Pleasurable?” I venture. “Hot? Titillating?”
“Is there a thesaurus stuck in your throat?”
I blink. “Huh?”
“You mean more to me than just a good time, Ashira.” He exhales a long breath and drags his hand down his face. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d freak out.”
My hackles instantly rise. “I’m not freaking out. I just want to unalive our kiss, okay?”
He gazes up at the ceiling. “Your turn of phrase is Freudianly poetic.”
“I.” I swallow and feel a surge of helplessness as I see the pain on his face. “Caleb, I’m sorry, I never meant to . . .” I shake my head. “Caleb—I couldn’t survive losing you.”
His eyes soften. “You wouldn’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You might.” I rub my chest, trying to steady my breaths as they grow uneven. “Something could happen. It always does. You’ll get run over by a car or fall in love with a waitress, or get struck by lightning—”
“Hey, hey. Shhh.” He reaches for me again, and tucks my head under his chin.
“Half of Americans get divorced and those are normal people,” I continue.
“You could get sick. What if you already are?” I put a hand over my stomach to try to tamp down the queasiness.
What if cancer cells are multiplying out of control somewhere in his body at this very moment?
“We can’t touch each other ever again,” I say, pulling out of his embrace.
“It comes at too high a price. I can’t lose you,” I repeat.
“But I’ll die if I can’t touch you again,” he says, snaking an arm around my waist. “I guess I’m screwed either way.”
“I’ll find you someone else.” I dance out of his arms, eliciting a loud groan of protest from him.
“Will she smell like you? Because she has to have your exact scent.”
I have to turn away because his smile is my weak spot. “Maybe we shouldn’t look at each other either.”
“You know this thing between us isn’t going to disappear,” he says.
I pull on my bottom lip with my teeth. I have a terrible suspicion that he’s right. How am I supposed to get over him now that I know that these feelings between us are mutual? Not to mention what an amazing kisser he is.
This is a disaster. No, it worse—it’s a catastrophe.
“Ashira.” He sighs. “You need to understand that the crap from your past happened to you, not because of you. I know you’re scared shitless about getting hurt.
I know your heart has taken a lot of hits.
I know that you don’t want to make yourself vulnerable because it feels safer to avoid risk than to take a huge leap of faith. ”
There’s this feeling in my gut that I’m not meant to have the kind of happiness other people have. I can have bits and pieces of it, like slices of pie. But the moment I start getting greedy and wanting the whole pie, that’s when bad things start to happen.
Maybe I can have kids and be a mom, but there’s no way I could have all that and be married to the man I love.
The man I love.
I inhale sharply and lay a hand over my stomach. I love Caleb. I think I always have. Being with him is like being with your best friend who also happens to be wildly attractive and an amazing kisser.
It’s all too much.
“Maybe it’s best if we take some time off,” I say, backing away until I hit the bathroom wall.
My pulse is beating unnaturally fast and it’s possible I’m dying of a heart attack.
Or having a panic attack. “Date other people. Maybe even marry them.” Clearly, I’ve shocked Caleb because his jaw drops. He stares at me for a long moment.
“Is that really what you want?”
I nod. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. The pain in his eyes is too much to bear and I glance away.
“Me too,” he says.
And then like the coward, I open the door and escape, all the way back to Brooklyn.