Chapter 13 #3
“I know it’s really hard to pull up roots and put them somewhere new,” she said, “but I really hope Katie and Brent and their kids end up deciding to move here.”
“I’d be pretty surprised if they don’t.” Though he’d been with Taylor in St. Helena for only three nights, it already felt like coming home.
He could have lived happily with her anywhere—in a desert or a jungle or smack-dab in the middle of suburbia—but there was something special about Napa Valley.
Not only because of its picturesque vineyards and wineries, but also because after only a few days, he had seen firsthand how supportive and welcoming the community was.
St. Helena was the perfect town to raise a family in, to watch kids’ soccer games on weekend mornings, then play in the pool all afternoon. “This place is pretty hard to resist.”
“Are you sure?” She stopped just inside her front door to face him. “Are you really ready to give up your life in Frankfurt and move here? I would never expect you to do that, especially this quickly. No one would.”
“I’ve never been more sure.” But this wasn’t just about him, so he had to ask, even if the answer might not be the one he wanted to hear.
“What about you? Earlier today, you said I was moving too fast.” He stroked her cheek, needing to touch her.
“Do you want me to move here? Do you want me with you? Or do you need some space, some time?”
“Of course I want you here with me,” she said, sending a massive rush of relief coursing through him. “But what if you resent me one day for asking you to drop everything in your life and turn on a dime?”
“The only thing I’d resent is getting on an airplane on Monday to fly five thousand miles from the woman I love.
I don’t want to tell you I love you over Skype.
I want to hold you in my arms when I say it.
” He was glad to see a small smile appear on her lips as he lowered his mouth to hers.
When he was barely a breath away, he said, “I love you.”
Their kiss was full of passion—and so much love it humbled him.
“You haven’t gotten the grape juice off,” she said as she ran her tongue over his collarbone. “Why don’t I help you with that?”
Without waiting for his reply, she began stripping away his clothes, pulling his T-shirt over his head, then unzipping and shoving his jeans to the floor. Utterly mesmerized by her, before he knew it, she had her own clothes off and then was taking his hand in hers to lead him into the shower.
She turned the water on, then sat him down on the tiled seat at the far end. The warm spray rushed over her skin, rivulets of water streaming over her breasts and stomach as she picked up the soap and lathered up her hands.
Gently, with her palms moving across his skin, she ran soap bubbles over him.
First over his face and neck, then down his shoulders and arms. Lifting his hands, she placed them on her stomach as she re-lathered with the soap, then worked on rubbing each finger with the bubbles, one at a time, to wash away the last traces of grape juice.
He loved the care she took with him. He could feel more than desire in her touch—he could feel her love for him in every stroke, every caress, as she made her way down his chest, his stomach muscles jumping beneath the light brush of her fingertips.
By the time she started running her hands over his thighs, he didn’t think he could handle much more.
If she kept touching him like this, he was going to lose it long before he got a chance to reciprocate by lathering up her skin the same way.
“It’s your turn now,” he said, but when he got up to change places with her, she put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.
“It is my turn,” she agreed, “but I don’t need you to clean me up right now. I need you to fill me up.”
He groaned at her deliciously filthy words as she reached for one of the condoms that they’d decided to keep stashed in the shower.
Slowly, perfectly, she lowered herself over him, and even as pleasure shot higher and higher, taking them both over the edge together, relief was there too.
Relief that after all these years, her heart was his—and his was hers.
Relief that she had allowed him to take her to the transplant center for the tests and was considering letting him help her.
Relief that she seemed so vibrant and healthy today, despite everything he’d read on her doctors’ reports.
Making love with Taylor—and holding her close—was exactly what he needed tonight. All day he’d wanted to be strong for her. He’d wanted to make sure she laughed, rather than cried. He’d wanted her to focus on hopes rather than fears.
But the truth was that by this time of night, pretending he wasn’t scared took a hell of a toll on him.
Burying his face against her chest, he let water from the shower cover the tears he suddenly couldn’t hold back. And all the while, Taylor held him just as tightly.
Knowing it would be the very best way to build up their reserves of strength, after drying each other off with plush white towels, they slid together beneath the covers and kept on holding each other tight until morning.