Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LOVERBOY, “ALMOST PARADISE”
I peeled open my eyes and glanced at the clock: 11:08 a.m.
“Isaac?” I said in a weak voice.
The pillows and sheets of the other bed were tangled. He slept by himself. I felt a pang of disappointment. When I made it to my feet and winced from my headache, I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I slipped on the white T-shirt poking out from his duffle bag and peeked through the curtain.
Isaac was in his jeans and boots, no shirt, staring at the sky and smoking a cigarette. I opened the door, and he glanced over his shoulder, giving me a slow inspection.
“Morning,” he said.
“Thought you quit.”
He shrugged. “I did.” He sucked on the cancer stick one last time before tossing it onto the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. “There.” He smiled. “I’m quitting again.”
I frowned.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” I stepped aside to let him back into the room.
“The look my mom gives me when she sees me smoking.”
“The look that says she doesn’t want her son to die of cancer? How dare she love you like that.” I closed the door.
He laughed, plucking another T-shirt from his bag and pulling it over his head. “Do you love me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. I just think it’s a disgusting habit.”
“Well, good thing you’re not the one doing it. And neither am I, now that I quit.” He made his bed.
“I’m going to shower. What are we doing today?”
“It’s a surprise.” He started making my bed too.
“Well, what should I wear?” I fished out underwear and a bra from my backpack.
“Shorts and tennis shoes.”
After my shower, I wrapped the towel around my body and opened the door. He was on the bed, watching TV. So I played it cool, despite my nerves trying to expose my wavering confidence, and I dropped my towel to the floor.
Without looking at him, I grabbed my clothes and set them on my bed as if I walked around naked in front of him all the time. But my curiosity got the best of me, so I glanced at Isaac.
He didn’t even try to pretend that he wasn’t looking at me. I slowly stepped into my underwear, waiting for him to look at my face.
He didn’t.
Wetting his lips, he kept his gaze on my breasts and adjusted himself in his jeans. It wasn’t just a quick fix; he kind of rubbed himself with the heel of his hand. That took me out of my area of expertise. Well, expertise might have been an exaggeration.
I had a moment of: Oh, yeah. You probably like to orgasm too.
But I lost my nerve, so I made getting dressed a race against time while I turned my back to him so he wouldn’t see me staring at him rubbing himself.
“So,” I cleared my throat, “is it just the two of us today? Or will we see Lenny again?” I grabbed my comb and faced him while working through my tangles.
Isaac’s hand had fallen to his side, and he regarded me for a few seconds as if to see if I saw him or if my striptease was on purpose. “I’ll play at his bar tonight, but it’s just the two of us today.” Again, he eyed me, lips twisted, gaze intense as if he thought I’d confess my poorly executed seduction antics with a blush.
“Sounds great,” I said, quickly turning toward the TV. “I wonder if Heather and everyone else are having a good time camping.”
“Do you regret not going camping?”
“I mean, you brought like … seven condoms. I said I wasn’t having sex with you, so you planned on having it not once but seven times?” I turned with one hand on my hip.
Don’t ask me where that came from. One minute, I was thinking about camping, and the next, I had a condom flashback.
To sum it up: I had sex on the brain— bad .
Isaac’s eyebrows slid into peaks.
“Sorry,” I shook my head. “I drank too much. My mind is all over the place. I need some food. Ignore me.” I tossed the brush into my bag and loosely ran my fingers through my hair.
“Then let’s feed you.” Isaac jumped out of bed and grabbed his truck keys off the nightstand.
His failure to verbally acknowledge me going off the rails only made it worse. Did he regret bringing me? Who didn’t want to take an inexperienced dreamer to Nashville, pay for everything, be responsible for her, and give her orgasms without receiving reciprocation only to get a lecture on planning for safe sex?
Good job, Sarah.
I couldn’t even give myself the Be Like Jesus speech because He was a virgin who was too busy giving sight to the blind, healing the sick, and turning water into wine to keep an orgasm tally.
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I slipped on my sunglasses as Isaac opened the door for me.
We backed out of the parking spot by our motel room, and he stopped before putting it into Drive . “We’re either not having sex, or we’re having it seven times.”
I turned toward him, sliding my glasses down my nose to eye him over the frames. “What do you mean?”
He shoved it into Drive and hit the gas. “If we have it once, we’ll blow through the other six in no time.”
Oh my God gosh.
I blinked several times while he grinned, and then I pushed my sunglasses up my nose and faced forward.
I wanted to have sex with Isaac if for no other reason than I needed to know if it was me or the curse of the first time. And after watching him rub himself through his jeans while he stared at me with glassy eyes, I was dying to watch him orgasm. That felt like the ultimate power.
It took us a while to navigate the holiday weekend traffic, but when he pulled into the parking lot, I squealed and covered my mouth. “Opryland!”
Isaac chuckled. “I take it you approve?”
I kept my hands fisted at my mouth, shaking with excitement. He pulled into a parking space, and I couldn’t get out of my seat belt fast enough to slide across the bench seat and onto his lap.
“What are you?—”
I cut him off with a kiss.
And another.
And another.
He laughed when I settled down a fraction.
“You’re right. We’ll use all seven,” I declared.
“No.” He rolled his eyes, grabbing my hips to move me off his lap.
When he hopped out, I grabbed my purse and made my way to his side as he locked the doors.
“So now you don’t want to do it?”
He shut the door and slid on his sunglasses. Then he linked a single finger with mine and led me toward the entrance. “Stop using sex as currency. All right? We’ll have it when you want to have it for no other reason than you want to have it.”
I didn’t know what to say as I lagged a few steps back.
He stopped to let me catch up. “Nope. You don’t get to pout at Opryland. ”
I wrinkled my nose when he pressed his fingers to the corners of my mouth to make me smile. “Stop.” I laughed.
“That’s better.” He linked his finger with mine again, and we continued toward the entrance.
We stood in line behind a man who looked close to my dad’s age, or even older, and a girl who was either his daughter or his granddaughter. She seemed just as excited as me, beaming with a twinkle in her eye when she glanced in our direction. Then the guy put his arm around her, which was fine until his hand drifted to her butt, and he gave it a few playful taps before rubbing circles on it and ending with a little squeeze.
My eyes swelled into saucers, and I peered up at Isaac, who was watching the same thing. The guy pulled her in for a hug and then ducked his head to kiss her on the lips—with tongue.
I bit my lips together to keep from gasping. Isaac clenched his teeth like he was upset more than disgusted.
When we paid for our tickets and entered the amusement park, I faced him. “Thoughts?”
He shook his head while putting the change in his wallet, but he didn’t look at me. “Let’s go. What do you want to ride first?”
That was it.
Then it hit me. Maybe he knew about his dad and Brenda, but I couldn’t ask him.
“That was gross.” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
He didn’t respond as we stood in front of a map of the park.
“Do you think it’s his wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? Not that I’m one to talk since I’m here with you, which makes me the worst kind of girlfriend. ”
“Then why’d you come?” he snapped.
I took a step away, eyeing him as I felt the sting of his words and the grit of his tone in my chest.
He continued to stare at the map for a few seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose and bowing his head with a long exhale. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
He knew. That was the only explanation for his outburst. That couple triggered him, and he took it out on me. And suddenly, I felt homesick.
My parents didn’t know where I was.
My friends were camping, laughing, and not getting yelled at by hot-tempered men.
In a matter of seconds, my happy bubble burst, and I just wanted to go home.
Before my childish emotions escaped, I blotted the corners of my eyes and swallowed past the lump in my throat. But I wasn’t a child. I was an adult dealing with a big dose of reality and the consequences of my decisions.
“Sarah—”
“Let’s ride the Wabash Cannonball,” I murmured, heading in the direction of the roller coaster.
“Sarah, I said I’m sorry.” He followed me, reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away.
“Let’s not do this.” I stuck my hands in my pockets.
We spent the afternoon at the park, and after grabbing chicken fingers and fries, we headed to the motel to get ready for the show. I felt Isaac’s gaze on me nonstop; even when he was driving, he kept glancing over at me.
“What do I have to do to make this right?” he asked, tossing his keys onto the nightstand when I entered the motel room.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I shrugged and deflated. “I feel like I messed up. I shouldn’t be here. I just …” I shook my head and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve felt out of control since the day you sat in the back of the church on Easter Sunday. And while you make me feel like anything is possible when I’m with you, I also feel like I’m disappointing everyone else around me. I’ve spent too many years trying to please people. And when I do something that I know will not please anyone but me, I feel selfish, and the guilt is unbearable.”
I looked at him and frowned. “When you snapped at me, I felt so—” I swallowed and tried to blink away the tears, but there were too many, so I quickly wiped them. “I felt so alone,” I whispered. “I f-feel like I’m keeping too many secrets and c-carrying the weight of the w-world on my s-shoulders.” I continued to bat away the tears, but they just kept coming.
“Baby,” he whispered, cupping the back of my head and pulling me into his embrace. “I know lonely, and I know what it feels like to keep secrets and feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s the fucking worst. You are not alone. I had a moment, but I regretted it instantly. I’m so very sorry.” He kissed the top of my head.
Then, he kissed my forehead, cheeks, and lips. I closed my eyes and melted into his embrace, savoring the slow kiss that felt more intimate than any other kiss we had shared. He lifted that weight from my shoulders, reminding me that it was okay to choose myself, even if it was only for three days. Isaac removed my shirt and kissed me again before shrugging off his. Our clothes piled onto the floor one at a time until we were naked on the bed, legs tangled, hands exploring, lips fused .
“I’m so undeserving of you,” he whispered over my skin before kissing the inside of my wrist and up my arm.
His patience gave me chills and aroused me more than I thought possible. He touched me everywhere, only spending short amounts of time at my breasts or teasing his fingertips between my legs as if he was testing the waters.
“Isaac,” I tried to guide his head between my legs without being too obvious.
When he kissed the skin along my hipbone to my navel, I could feel his lips curl into a grin. “What, baby?”
He knew exactly what he was doing to me.
Matt gave me ten seconds of foreplay; Isaac was giving me an eternity.
Finally, he went there .
“Isaac, yesss …” I arched my back and thanked God (He probably plugged his ears). Then I rested my foot on his shoulder as he gripped the back of my knee and gave me a little slice of Heaven that, in the aftermath, would feel like Hell. This time, he brought me to the edge and stopped, crawling up my body, kissing me hard while his fingers teased me, sliding slowly in and out while the wet head of his erection rubbed against my leg.
I clawed at his back when he pulled away, and my neediness made him grin. He was beautiful from head to toe—marked in ink, tan and tone from long days on the ranch. I was shackled with panic and overcome with desire all at the same time. I wanted to have sex with Isaac more than anything, but I wanted to enjoy it.
I couldn’t get Matt out of my head, wondering if it was a fluke, the first-time curse, or if I was broken.
Fitted with a condom, Isaac slid into bed next to me, cupping my face while we kissed again. “Straddle me,” he whispered.
I wasn’t sure about being on top, but I did it anyway. The length of his erection rubbed between my legs.
“Show me how beautiful and sexy you are.” He held his erection until the head of it slid inside of me, and then he guided my hands to my breasts.
Only Isaac could make me feel that safe and confident. Everything he did was to bring me pleasure as I sank completely onto him, and we began to move together. I got to see him lose himself inside of me, unraveling with need and intimate vulnerability.
It wasn’t a race to the end; it was about the moment. Our connection. Everything felt different when I wasn’t trying to lose something or give him something because I thought he’d earned it.
Isaac pistoned his pelvis. “Sarahhh …” He grinned.
I couldn’t believe he was trying to be funny during sex. But I also couldn’t help but match his smile.
Then he sat up, and the humor faded, melting back into desire as we moved together slowly. I realized the thing I felt the most was my heart aching with love. Not the first kind of love with butterflies.
Not the kind that was earned over time, an extension of loyalty.
I loved Isaac in an all-consuming, jumping-off-the-cliff, be-damned-the-consequences sort of way.
“Baby,” he whispered over my lips as I rocked my hips with his in a building rhythm. “I’m okay with dying right here—inside of you.”
His hands tangled in my hair as I orgasmed, and then he kissed me while moving his hands to my hips, encouraging me to keep going. “Sarah.” All his muscles seemed to tense at the same time, sweat beading on his skin, and the most painful yet beautiful expression stole his face.
It wasn’t power; it was equality. I didn’t feel like he was older, smarter, or more talented. It wasn’t him, and it wasn’t me. It was us.
I had sex with Matt. He had sex with me. And they were two very different experiences. With Isaac, we made love.
Wrapped in his arms, he laid us on the bed, my heart pounding against his. That was what I imagined musicians thought about when they wrote about sex and intimacy—and love.
Between labored breaths, he stroked my hair. “I’m sorry we feel like a lie. I’m sorry that this will hurt a lot of people we love. But, baby,” he kissed the top of my head, “I wouldn’t change what’s happened. My feelings for you are too big; they don’t leave any room for regret.”