CHAPTER TWENTY ~ GRAEME ~ FOUR YEARS AGO #4
“It’s been about the same for me, and I was tested too,” I say. Her eyebrows inch up, and I swear she looks pleased. How would she feel if I told her that even after all this time, I still struggle to connect with other women because I can’t help comparing them to her and what we had?
She nods when I reach for the waistband of her panties, lifting her hips so I can remove them.
Her bra goes next. I sit back on my heels to admire the beautiful woman in front of me.
Her arms twitch at her sides as if she wants to cover herself, and the sweetest pink flush is making its way from her chest up her neck and into her cheeks.
I chase it with my lips, lingering on her collarbones, then the hollow of her throat before bringing my mouth to hers.
“I think it’s time you found your way back to Scotland, a ghràidh.” I murmur against her lips. “Back to me.”
Her hands freeze on my back. “I wish I could, but...it’s not that simple. I’ve built an entire life here.”
“Is it one you’re happy with?” I ask, suspecting I already know the answer from various comments she’s made over the last year or so, especially in regards to her job.
She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a frustrated sigh. She shakes her head and tries again. “Let’s not talk about any of this tonight. Please? I’ve missed you so much, Graeme. I need you.”
She takes my hand and guides it between her legs.
We let out twin moans when my fingers meet her hot, wet centre.
I kiss her again as my fingers go to work, muscle memory taking over.
There are things that have changed about Abby over the years, but if her sighs and other sounds of pleasure are any indication, I still know exactly how she likes to be touched.
If our kiss earlier felt like a reunion, sliding inside Abby feels like the sweetest kind of homecoming.
We made no promises tonight, just like we didn’t ten years ago, but I meant it when I said I’d never stopped loving her.
I have less than twenty-four hours left in Canada, but tomorrow morning I’ll plead my case again and see if I can at least convince her to finally return to Scotland for a visit.
Maybe being back in the place she loved will remind her how happy she was there and how good we are together.
For now, I focus on the way it feels to be inside her again, surrounded by her warmth and her scent and the sounds she makes that drive me wild.
Her fingers twine in my hair before moving across my shoulders and down my back.
When her hands grip my arse and her hips tilt to take me deeper, the pleasure coiling at the base of my spine unleashes.
Sensation crashes through me in waves, heightened by the way Abby’s inner muscles clench around me as she finds her own release.
We lie together in a breathless heap of tangled limbs.
The sweat has barely dried on our skin before I lift Abby from the bed and carry her to the bathroom.
She laughs the entire way, clinging to me and kissing every inch of my face.
Under the rainfall shower, we lather up and take our time washing each other with the hotel’s luxurious soap.
I wash Abby’s hair next, and the sounds she makes as I massage her scalp have me growing hard once more.
After the last of the suds have been rinsed away, I continue to worship her body with my hands and mouth.
She’s quivering and weak-kneed by the time we wrap ourselves in thick, soft towels and return to bed.
I sleep like the dead and awake to bright sunshine filtering in through the open curtains.
Eyes closed, I reach for Abby. In the second before my hand meets cool sheets, I already know she’s gone.
Disappointment and frustration course through me.
I grope for my phone on the nightstand, finding it covered by a sheet of hotel stationery.
It’s a letter from Abby.
Dear Graeme,
Turns out I’m as much of a coward now as I was back then.
I love you and I likely always will, but my life is here, and yours is in Scotland. I just don’t see how it could work. It kills me to say this, but I think it’s time we accept we’re only meant to be friends. The best of friends. Platonic soulmates.
I’ll understand if you hate me. I would hate me. In fact, I do hate myself. I just hope it’s not forever and we can build a bridge back to the friendship that means so much to both of us.
Love always,
Abby
I resist the urge to crumple the letter and toss it across the room.
Some masochistic part of me knows I’ll want to reread it.
I shouldn’t have asked her to come to Scotland.
It’s been ten years; if she wanted to make things work between us, she would have found a way by now.
The fact she hasn’t even come for a visit should have told me everything I needed to know.
As much as every fibre of my being is screaming at me that Abby and I are meant to be together, she’s right: we need to accept that our fate is to be friends. I’ve hung on and held out hope for long enough.
It’s time to finally move on.