12. Noah #2
The warning is more for me than for her. I’ve never needed someone or something more in my entire life. It’s terrifying. I should stop. I should back away. But I can’t. So, hand shaking, I grip her a little harder and notch myself at her entrance.
Like she can sense my nerves, and probably feels my shaking hand, she adjusts so she’s resting her weight on one elbow and cups her hand over mine on her hip, threading our fingers and giving them a squeeze.
Heart cracking at the gesture, I slide inside her.
It’s too late to go back now. She owns me.
Warmth rushes through me as her walls clamp down. She feels so fucking right. I curl over her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, and we both sigh in relief.
I’ll never come back from this. I’ll never recover. She’s completely and irrevocably changed me. And as I sink inside her repeatedly, I relish it. Because why the fuck would I ever want to undo what I’ve just done.
For the next thirty-six hours Sienna allows me, and encourages me, to use her over and over again.
I pleasure her with my fingers at dinner, teasing her beneath the table while the waiter takes our order.
I push inside her while she sits on my lap, listening to live music.
While the people around us sway to the beat, she writhes on my dick, coming with her teeth sunken into my shoulder.
I wake her in the middle of the night with my tongue on her clit and a toy shoved into her ass.
She squirts all over the sheets and while she’s still a whimpering mess I shove my dick inside her and fuck her until she’s begging for me to stop.
She doesn’t say butterfly. Not even when I flip her over, cover my sheathed dick in lube and slide inside her other hole.
No the wanton thing pushes back against me and rubs her clit until she comes again.
We sleep late into the morning, have lunch on the beach and do it all over again, touching and kissing and fucking all night.
The sound of wheels on the floor wakes me, and I jackknife out of bed. “You’re leaving?” I rasp, glaring at Sienna, who’s 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.
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 would 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.
Sienna’s 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 not 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 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.
Sienna 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 when the time is right.
With her arms draped around my neck, she presses her lips to mine.
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.
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