Chapter 12 #3
Emotion floods me as I stare at her. She’s lying back, arms outstretched, her nipples breaching the surf, the long lines of her hips disappearing where they meet mine. How could the universe introduce me to this perfect woman, and then take her away?
“If you could have anything,” I ask, “what would it be?”
She arches up, grasping my shoulders, and presses a kiss to my lips. “I’d want people to know me for who I am rather than because of my family name.”
And what is that family name?
It takes everything in me not to ask.
“I’d want a little boutique in Boston, maybe.”
“What kind of boutique?”
She shakes her head, brushing her nose against mine. “We’re not supposed to tell each other what we do.”
As she moves, her pussy clenches around me, pulling a moan from deep in my chest.
“Fuck, baby. I don’t care about our rules. I just want—I need—”
She bites down on my lip and tugs. “You need whatever I give you.”
Heat sears through me, along with amusement. Is she seriously using my own words against me again?
“I’m going to miss you,” I croak. It’s the most honest admission I’ve ever made.
She ghosts her lips over mine. “What about you? What would your life look like if you could have anything?”
The moment she asks, an intense vision hits me, nearly knocking beneath the surf. In it, a brick home set on a rolling hill. Walking distance to downtown Boston. A little boy smiling up at me. My wife standing in the doorway with her hand on her rounded belly.
Sienna.
That’s what I picture. A life with her. Not hockey. Not saying goodbye to her.
Shit.
Chest tight, I force the words out, taking my time to keep my voice from shaking. “A family. My mom passed when I was a baby, so I missed out on a lot. But I’d really like to have that. Children, a home.”
She strokes my cheek, studying every inch of my face. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “I don’t remember her. And I have a great dad.”
She nibbles on her lip, her attention drifting. “I hope you find it. What you want. I hope you get that family.”
“I hope you get your boutique.”
I want to tell her I could have all those things, that I could give her everything she wants, but none of her woes are caused by a shortage of money.
That’s not the issue, so mine can’t solve her problems. She has a vision, a hunger for a career.
She has a plan, and she’s set to dive into it next week.
She’s just beginning. I can’t keep her from chasing those dreams.
She brings her lips to mine, and as she deepens the kiss, she silently tells me she wants all of it too. She wants a future, she wants those dreams.
At least I tell myself that’s what she’s saying.
I kiss her back. For long moments, we’re lost like that.
Eventually the warmth of her isn’t enough, so I fuck up into her, focusing on things we can have.
I walk backward, and at the ocean’s edge, I settle my ass in the sand.
“Ride me. I want to watch you come. I want to watch the most beautiful woman fall apart around me in the light of the moon.”
Sienna rolls her hips, the move sending tingles up my spine. “I’m on birth control,” she rasps against my mouth.
My chest grows tight. “Fuck, baby. Don’t say things like that.”
“I want you to come inside me,” she begs. “Be mine.” Her eyes search mine, desperate. “Just for tonight.”
I lose all sense then. As I fuck up into her, I unleash a piece of myself, implanting it deep, knowing I’ll never get it back. Forget being wrecked. I’m shattered and I don’t give a fuck.
The moment the world goes hazy, my vision blurring from the intense pleasure, she imprints herself on my retinas. She tattoos herself on my brain. When I come apart with her name on my lips, I can only hope that for the rest of my life, the image of her under the moonlit sky is all I’ll see.
The sound of wheels on the floor wakes me, and I jackknife out of bed. “You’re leaving?” I rasp, glaring at the woman standing near the door. I’m naked and hard—which should be impossible at this point—and I’m pissed. “You were just going to leave?”
She strides over and cups my cheek. “No, I was just collecting my things before I came to say goodbye to you properly.”
My racing heart calms. There’s nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “Let me get dressed and wait for your car with you.”
I tried to change my travel plans so we could fly out of here together, but her flight was completely booked.
She took that as a sign that it’s best that we part for good here in the Bahamas. I took it as a sign that I should pay someone to take their seat, but that’s not what she wants, so here we are.
It’s like a punch to the gut, really, to have found this woman, a woman who is, for all intents and purposes, made for me, who’s as filthy as I am and so fucking brilliant—a woman I could get lost in—only to be hit with the reality that she doesn’t have time to get lost in me.
Could we make it work? A big part of me wants to try.
Yeah, hockey keeps me busy, and soon, the rest of my time will be consumed with the ups and downs of parenthood.
But even if Sienna and I could sneak away and see each other once or twice in the next year, it’d be a whole lot better than parting for good.
“Give me your number,” I say, cradling her face.
Lashes lowered, she shakes her head.
My stomach twists painfully. “Please,” I urge, my voice grating. “Your last name, at least? Give me something that’ll allow me to reach out to you when life isn’t so complicated.”
She sags, her eyes darting away. “It’s better this way,” she whispers.
“How?”
How could never seeing her again be better? How could she be so okay with saying goodbye?
“I did something.” She straightens and lifts her chin. “Ever heard of the movie Serendipity?”
I shrug. “I don’t watch TV.”
“It’s a movie, you dork. With Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack. God, it’s so good.” She smiles, her expression wistful, and for a moment I forget how angry I am over how easily she’s willing to walk away after she went and made me fall for her.
“Give me your number.” I brush my mouth over hers.
She pulls back and licks her lips. “In the movie, a man and a woman meet unexpectedly and spend a perfect day together. But they’re both in relationships with other people—”
“You told me you were single,” I force out, my throat suddenly tight.
Her smile is soft. “I am, but our lives are complicated. We’re not ready for this,” she whispers.
This. As if that word could encompass what exists between us. I’m not sure the word love would either. It feels pedestrian and overused, and yet it’s the only thing that comes close to what I feel for this woman.
Still, the devastation in her expression kills me. I know she’s right.
If she gave me her name and number, there’s no way I could resist calling, and I’d be so fucking tempted to visit during any break in the season. But I can’t. I’m about to be a father.
I don’t have time to be in love, yet she’s wormed her way under my skin and soaked into my bones, and now I can’t imagine letting her go.
With a sigh, I drag a hand down my face. “What happens in the movie?”
“Kate’s character has John’s character write his name and number on a dollar bill. She spends the money, believing that if it comes back to her, she’ll know they’re meant to be.”
A thread of irritation works its way through me. “That’s ridiculous,” I huff. “I’m not putting my number on a dollar bill when I could give it to you now. Let me do that. Take it. You can decide whether you want to call. You may never use it, but at least that way, there’d be a chance.”
“I’ve written my number on a dollar bill already. I’ll use it when I get back to Boston.”
“Sienna,” I plead, grasping her wrists, desperate to change her mind.
“And the book you were reading on the plane?”
I frown. “What about it?”
“In the movie, she writes her number in a book, then sells it. That way, they have double the chance.” She worries her bottom lip and searches my eyes. “Put your name and number in the book, and when you get back to Boston, sell it.”
“But you’ll be in Paris.” I pull her closer. I can’t get close enough. Why did the universe throw us together like this only to take her away so quickly? Why is my life so damn complicated?
“I snapped a picture of the book. The universe will bring us back together when the time is right.” She’s so sure of herself. So innocent and pure. So fucking perfect.
Frustration floods me. I hate this plan. I hate it so freaking much.
She snaps me out of my stewing with a nip to my lip. “It’s serendipity. We’re meant to be. We’ll find each other again when the timing is right.”
What if serendipity isn’t real and this weekend was nothing but a bunch of happy coincidences? What if we never find each other again?
I keep those thoughts to myself, choosing instead to believe like she does that we’re meant to be. That the universe will bring her back to me.
With her arms draped around my neck, she kisses me slowly, deeply.
I savor the taste of her. The feel of her in my arms, cataloging every detail, set on memorizing them all.
Before I’m ready to let her go, her phone rings and she pulls back.
The person on the other end—the concierge, I assume—reminds her that her car is ready. With a simple okay, she ends the call. Then she’s peering up at me again. “I have to go.”
I nod, swallowing back the devastation that threatens to burst from me. “Have a safe flight.”
“Thank you, Noah. This weekend.” She shakes her head and sucks in a long breath. “It was everything.”
I cuff the back of her neck and kiss her again.
Eyes closed, soaking her in one last time, I will her to be right.
But most of all, I silently pray she’ll be happy.
“You’re going to do amazing things, butterfly.
You’re going to soar. I can’t wait to see what you do with this life.
” I press my forehead to hers and inhale deeply. “And I’m going to find you again.”
With a step back, she gives me a melancholy smile. “I’m counting on it.”
And then she’s gone.