MY HEART GREW FONDER
ADDISON
C larabel, Thomas, and Brooklyn headed out of Patrick’s house hand in hand, and I watched them walk all the way to their car, get situated in it, and finally drive away.
“Why do I feel like my heart’s breaking all over again?” I said out loud.
Patrick was there in an instant, his strong arms wrapped around me from the back, holding me tight.
“Because you know this is where you belong,” he said as he spun me around to face him.
His fingertips grazed my chin as he lifted it, and my eyes crashed into his. I licked my lips, and that was all it took for him to lose any self-control he might have been holding on to. His mouth covered mine, his tongue pressing against my own, and I swore if it wasn’t for his arms holding me up, I would have fallen straight to the floor. My knees felt like they might buckle at any second.
“Tell me you remember this house. It’s the one we dreamed up together,” he said as he broke the kiss, but started planting new ones on my neck, my cheek, and my ear.
“Of course I do,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“What else do you remember, Addi?” he whispered against me, his breath warm.
“Everything,” I admitted because I did. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”
“Then, come home, love. Come back to me. I’m a ghost of a person without you,” he said, and I almost broke down into tears.
My body filled with need. I ached to close the space between us, to feel his skin against mine, to have him inside me. I wanted to forget where I ended and Patrick began. I’d denied myself any kind of emotional or physical connection since I’d moved away, knowing that no one could ever compare to the man standing before me.
“Show me the bedroom?” I asked.
He grabbed my hand, pulling me past the stairway that led up to Clarabel’s room and toward a giant wooden door.
Outside of the room and on the wall was a framed sketch with handwritten notes. It was the original drawing for the house that Patrick had done one afternoon when we were daydreaming about our future. I ran my fingers across the glass and smiled to myself before Patrick opened the door and stepped in.
When I walked into the massive space, I dropped his hand and blew out a breath. The room looked like it was straight out of Country Living magazine, with oversize windows that looked out at the property as far as the eye could see. I headed straight for them, my eyes taking it all in.
When I spotted what looked like the edges of a couple of structures, I narrowed my eyes and tried to see. “What are those?” I pointed, and Patrick joined me at the window.
“My workshop and the greenhouse,” he said as if they were no big deal.
“You built a greenhouse?”
He shrugged. “You always said you wanted to grow your own herbs and vegetables for cooking. That’s the only way to do it in our climate.”
“So, you just built a greenhouse for me?”
“I built this whole damn place for you,” he said matter-of-factly before adding, “Well, for us. I built this for us, love. It had always been our dream. It was still mine. And I hoped, one day, it might be yours again too.”
How was this man real? Guys like him were only supposed to exist in romance books and movies. But here he was, even better with age and time.
I turned away from the window and looked around. There was a small stone fireplace, a massive bed, and a reading nook built into one wall. This room alone was a fairy tale, with a million more details than I’d ever contributed when we used to talk about our ideal home.
“Do you like it?” Patrick asked, his blue eyes watching me with intent and a little trepidation.
“Like it? It’s a dream.”
“And you haven’t even seen the bathroom or the closets yet.” He smirked, but honestly, I didn’t care about either of those things in this moment.
“I’m sure they’re as magical as the rest of this place, but right now, I don’t care.”
His mouth curved upward as a devilish grin appeared. “You don’t, do you?” he asked, still grinning.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“What do you care about then?” He took a step toward me, and I stood perfectly still, except for the single glance behind me.
“How comfortable that bed is,” I said. “Is it?”
“My side’s very comfortable. And Jasper never complains about his.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but picture it in my head.
“Hmmm,” I bit out teasingly. “I don’t get a side then?”
“You can have the whole damn thing, love.”
I knew he meant it. I also knew that, logically, I should probably put a stop to this before we took it too far, but emotionally, I didn’t want to. All of my feelings had been shoved in a box for the last few years. They were spilling out now. I couldn’t be here, in this house that he’d built, and not give myself to him.
“Take me to bed, Patrick.”
“Been dreaming about this for years, love,” he admitted, and I stopped myself from saying the same thing back, even though it was the truth.
He reached for my hand once more and pulled me toward the edge of the mattress. Jasper was already lying on it, and Patrick shooed him off. He begrudgingly obliged, whining as he made his way to a dog bed sitting near the fireplace.
I let Patrick take the lead, and I followed willingly. He reached for my sweater and pulled it over my head, dropping it to the floor without taking his eyes off of my body. His look was like fire, burning as he took me in.
“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.” He leaned forward and pressed kisses against my stomach before moving up to my shoulder and neck. “How is that possible?”
“I feel the same way,” I said, my breath catching in my throat. “About you, I mean. You’re so damn handsome.”
“Even with the hair?” he questioned, and I reached for the long strands and twisted them around my fingers.
“Even with the hair. Why’d you stop cutting it anyway?” My hand snaked around the back of his neck, and I started to rub it gently, pressing on the pressure points, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Don’t really give a shit about my hair, Addi.”
“What do you give a shit about?” I pushed, repeating his words back to him.
“Right now? The fact that you’re here and in my bed.”
“Then, do something about it,” I teased, and he grinned.
“Plan to.”
Patrick proceeded to take off all my clothes, his breath catching every time he caught sight of me. He had always made me feel beautiful, but this was something else completely. I felt desired in a whole new way. Maybe it was because we were older or because we’d been apart for so long. Whatever it was, it was empowering. All of my insecurities floated away into thin air when he admired me the way that he did.
And when he removed his clothing without my help, I thought I might die, seeing all the new muscles that had appeared on his body. He’d always been fit, but there was definition and lines in places there hadn’t been three years ago.
He maneuvered my naked body exactly where he wanted it, and I lay there on my back, watching him hover over me, his shoulders flexing and his triceps bulging. My fingertips raked down his chest, and when they found the little trail of hair, I followed it down, down, down and knew exactly why they called it a happy trail . At the end of it was a very happy penis. A very hard, very large penis. I wrapped my hand around it, gently tugging and pulling it.
He hissed as I continued to touch him. “Addi, if you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to lose it right here on your stomach.”
That made me laugh. But I instantly let go of him and reached for his arms instead, squeezing the hardness of his muscles as I explored this new version of him. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just haven’t been with anyone else but you,” he said, his blue eyes radiating with so much emotion.
I wondered if he expected his admission to shock me, but the truth was that I would have been more shocked if he had slept with other women. I would have hated knowing that. Especially when I couldn’t even remotely think about being with another man.
“Me neither,” I confessed.
I thought for a moment that I might have broken him completely because he grew so still that only his chest was moving.
“The thought of someone else touching you doesn’t work for me.”
“The thought of you moving on makes me sick,” I said, even though I felt selfish for saying it.
I was the one who’d left him. He had every right to move on without me.
“Could never do that.”
“No more talking,” I demanded because his words were too much. Too intense. Too raw. Too honest. Too painful.
Without warning, I felt the tip of him at my entrance and didn’t even think twice when he didn’t stop to put on a condom. We’d stopped using them once I got on birth control, but I hadn’t been on it lately. There’d been no need.
“Patrick,” I breathed out headily as he started to push inside.
“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” He stopped.
“I am better than okay.” I smiled, but I reached for his face so that he’d look at me. “But I’m not on the pill anymore, so you’ll need to pull out.”
“Okay.”
He nodded once and then pushed all the way in. I threw my head back and swore I saw stars.
“Jesus, baby. You’re so damn tight.”
“Oh God,” I said as my hips started to move, and my body stretched to accommodate him.
He leaned down to kiss me, his mouth moving so slow that I thought I might die. It was torturous but delicious. Kissing him had always been a dream, but even this was something more.
Patrick moved like water, his body rolling like a wave in the ocean, and I matched his motion effortlessly. His movements were fluid, so smooth that it was like we were one. There was no beginning and no end to our two bodies. We were tied together beyond the physical.
This wasn’t sex for old times’ sake or a good old-fashioned screw. No. This was what making love felt like. The connection crackled in the air between us, our souls dancing, writhing, and combining. It was as if I could reach out and touch our essence with my fingertips.
“I love you, Addi. I still love you so fucking much,” Patrick said as his pace quickened.
I knew he was close. I felt him grow even bigger and harder inside me. And as much as I wanted to keep him inside of me, to feel him lose it all in me, I released my grip on his lower back and died a little as he pulled out to spill himself on top of my stomach.
“I still love you too,” I said as soon as he finished.
“I’ll go get something to clean you up,” he said, his chest heaving with his accelerated heart rate.
And then his lips were back on mine, all traces of softness gone. He claimed me, bit my bottom lip, and licked at my mouth without warning.
“Mine,” he said before pushing up from the bed, and the cold air swooped in and swallowed me whole.
He was back in a flash, a warm washcloth in his hand; he rubbed it across my stomach gently, wiping me clean.
How the hell had I ever walked away from this man?
And how was I going to do it again?