Chapter 24 #2
She shakes her head. “No, not entirely. I couldn’t be real with you if I wasn’t being real with myself.
I tried to convince myself that this was nothing more than attraction, that it was only meant to be temporary.
That it couldn’t be anything more. I really believed I wouldn’t be capable of giving my heart to someone again. That I would never want to.”
My own heart starts beating more rapidly at her words.
“But you made it so easy,” she continues, her thumb sweeping over the back of my hand. “It was so easy I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late.”
I open my mouth to tell her I feel the same, but she raises her free hand and pushes her index finger against my lips. I press a kiss to it without even thinking, and she rewards me with a smile.
Moving her hand down to my waist, she says, “I don’t want to let how my ex treated me shape who I am and hold me back from finding something better. I’m not afraid that you’d ever intentionally hurt me or take advantage of me the way she did.”
“I won’t,” I can’t help but cut in.
She gives my waist a light squeeze. “I know. But I have been holding back, because I thought saying goodbye was inevitable. In your song, you’re asking me not to make you say goodbye, but I’m not the one who would be going anywhere. You are. It’s going to be your choice whether or not you leave.”
“You’re right, it is,” I say, “And that’s what I wanted to tell you. I’ve already decided. I choose you.”
“You do?” The tinge of uncertainty in her voice has me dying to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until she believes me. But I need something from her first.
“I do. I choose you,” I tell her again. “But it’s not only up to me. You have a choice here too. And I’m asking you to choose me back.”
Her eyes widen slightly at that. Like she didn’t realize this is a two-person decision. Then with an almost laugh, she says, “Sweetheart,” as if it’s her answer. And in a way, it is.
I love when she calls me Strawberry, because nobody’s ever called me that before.
It’s something unique, something that’s ours alone.
But I’ve spent most of my career being referred to as America’s Country Sweetheart.
That word has represented the image I’ve needed to maintain, the kind of person I made sure to always be so that people would like me.
It’s part of a title I’ve come to resent.
When she calls me sweetheart, though, it means something entirely different. It’s not an endearment I have to work to earn. It’s simply how she sees me when all I’m doing is being myself. It’s what I am to her. It’s real.
The way I feel when she looks at me and says that one word is all the answer I need. And in case it wasn’t, the way she takes my face with both hands and kisses me now certainly is.
I kiss her back with both desperation and ease in equal measure, my mind and body singing with the understanding that I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for. That elusive perfect chord.
“Is this real?” The quiet words slip past my lips as our mouths part. I don’t mean to question it—it’s only that I’m so used to thinking I’ve found that chord and getting it wrong. So no matter how sure I am that it’s right this time, I can’t help still feeling the tiniest bit cautious.
Addison cards her fingers through my hair and cradles the back of my head. “It’s real, Strawberry. And I don’t want to fight it anymore. I’m in love with you.”
I toss that last bit of caution to the wind as I throw my arms around her. I hug her tightly to me, burying my face in her neck. She smells a little like bacon and breakfast waffles, but I inhale deeply to get to the sweetness underneath.
Pulling back enough to look in her eyes, I tell her, “I love you. And I’m going to figure out a way to stay here with you.”
I’ll do anything I need to so I can be with her. Because she’s worth more than money or fame to me. She’s worth anything I have to give up. All I need is her brown eyes looking at me like I’m worth it all too.
“I’m tired of worrying more about what the world wants from me than about what I want,” I go on.
“I want you. I want this right here. I want to play my guitar on your front porch in the afternoon and dance with you in the evening in the living room while a record plays. I want you to keep teaching me more skills in the kitchen, so you don’t have to do all the cooking at work and then when you get home too.
And I want to spend hours in bed with you exploring every inch of your body. ”
“That sounds good to me,” she says, her smile lighting up her whole face. “But we’ve never danced in the living room before.”
“Well, we should change that.”
“We should,” she agrees.
And that’s how we wind up back inside, spinning together in slow circles, with Freddie watching us lazily from his cat tree and Joni Mitchell singing about not really knowing love or life at all.
I’ve always appreciated the beautiful complexity of the song, the idea that you lose your sense of innocence about the world as you grow older.
But as I listen to the words now, while I’m in the arms of someone who younger me never would’ve imagined myself falling in love with, I hear another meaning in them.
A reassurance that even once you’ve gained wisdom about the harsh realities of life, you can still hold on to the illusions that make it worth living.
It’s okay to keep hoping and trying and loving.
Reality won’t always be perfect, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wish for it to be.
Addison lets me go after the song ends, only to place another album on the record player, and then she comes back to me. We dance now to the more up-tempo music, laughing as we inexpertly twirl each other out, and kissing when we pull each other close again.
We dance until the sun goes down outside the windows, and that’s when we make our way upstairs, unable to keep our hands off each other the closer we get to the bedroom.
I’ve been with plenty of people in the past, but no one’s ever made me feel wanted the way this woman does.
I think it’s because she wants all of me, not just my body.
And it’s more than just my body that feels naked as I lie underneath her.
I’ve opened myself fully to her, let her in to see how I’m not always as confident in life as I am on stage.
I’ve shown her the truths behind the fame.
The way I yearn to leave a deeper musical legacy than the one I have now.
Even if I’m proud of every song I’ve written in my career and what I’ve accomplished so far, I’m still striving for something more.
I think I might always be, and that’s not a bad thing.
She makes me feel like I can have more, do more, be more. She makes me feel like I can be everything. Like I can reach for the big things and still keep the little things that matter too. Like all the different parts of me can exist in harmony.
I think I’d give up anything for her, but she makes me feel like somehow, I won’t have to.
I run my hands over her bare skin everywhere I can reach, appreciating the softness and curves, but loving her edges just as much.
Her legs are slotted between mine, and as she teases one of my nipples between her teeth, her thigh presses up against me.
I’m so wet for her already, and I’m sure she can feel it there.
I reach for her head and drag her back up to kiss me, desperate for the taste of her mouth on mine.
She kisses me slowly, running her tongue across my lips before sliding it inside my mouth.
I hold her ass, keeping her body pressed tightly to mine.
She manages to fit her hand between us, cupping my breast and swiping her thumb over my nipple as our kissing amps up to a hungrier pace.
Soon I’m shamelessly grinding against her thigh, my wetness making it so the glide isn’t too rough. She encourages me by pressing up harder against me. God, I’m always so horny for this woman that I could probably get myself off just like this.
She doesn’t let me, though. Of course she doesn’t. Because she has to show off how good she is with her hands. She replaces her thigh with her fingers, sliding them right into me with no preamble, making my back arch off the bed.
I whine when her mouth leaves mine, but then she’s kissing and sucking on my neck, and her fingers are driving me wild. And there really isn’t anything I could possibly complain about.
The heat builds inside me as she fucks me with her fingers and rubs her thumb over my clit. I’m supposed to be the musician here, but I swear she plays my body as deftly as I play the guitar, pulling every note of pleasure out of me until I’m left gasping and shaking and clenching around her.
She stills her fingers inside of me as I come down from my orgasm, but right as my breathing has returned to normal, she starts moving them again.
“Wha—” I ask, not even having the energy to form the full word.
She sends me a look that’s hot enough to set me on fire and says, “I think you can give me another one, sweetheart.”
Oh god.
I almost tell her I can’t, but I trust her enough to believe anything she says. She keeps fucking me, not letting up even though I’m whimpering now, and it doesn’t take long before I’m right on the edge again.
But instead of sending me over it, she abruptly takes her hand away. I cry out in protest, my body taut like a guitar string about to snap. Then she’s wiggling her way down my body, kissing my chest and stomach as she goes, until she settles her head between my legs.
I sigh in relief the second her mouth latches on to my clit. She sucks on it hard, easing up only to flick her tongue over it before sucking again. Her fingers slide back inside my pussy, stuffing me full while she licks my clit over and over and over again.
A tingling sensation starts in my toes and travels all the way up my body until I’m not sure I can feel my face anymore. Maybe that should concern me, but I only have two thoughts left running through my brain on a continuous loop.
I love her.
She loves me.
As hot as all the sex we’ve had up until now has been, acknowledging these feelings has taken everything to another level. And now I’m blissfully floating way up there. My orgasm seems to last forever this time, the tingling in my cheeks not fading.
Eventually, Addison comes up to kiss me, gentle and sweet but lingering. “I love you,” she confesses against my lips.
“I love you too,” I tell her, my heart filled with both a quiet peace and a wild joy at the same time. It’s a feeling I never want to let go of.
After a few moments, she rolls off to lie beside me. I turn toward her and scoot in to kiss her, running my hand down her side to rest on her hip as I slot one of my legs between hers.
I need a little time to recover, and then I intend to eat her out and see if I can give her that face tingling sensation that she gave me. But she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything other than lie here with me, kissing and holding each other and breathing the same air.
We don’t need to say anything right now. We don’t need to rush.
This is exactly where we’re meant to be, fitting together like beautiful lyrics and the perfect melody.