One Last Chance (13 page)

She murmured something unintelligible, her hands moving to his chest, then to his neck, her body pushing into his.

He found her mouth again, volts of electricity firing through his body.

Her hands found the bow tie and he felt it unclip.

His hands found the zipper at the back of her dress and he pulled down on it. She sighed, but continued kissing him. He shifted his weight and eased her down onto the bed.

Her fingers were on the buttons of his shirt. He laid down on top of her, pressing his body into hers, his mouth next to her ear.

“Maybe we can’t have the Prom,” he whispered, biting softly on her earlobe.

She arched her back and moved into him, her eyes clamped shut. “No?”

He leaned into her, began sliding her dress down. “But we can have the night in the hotel. The night I wanted.”

She opened his shirt and then her eyes, staring at him. “The night
we
wanted. We.”

Her dress was off and he buried his face in her hair. Her fingernails dug into his back as she pulled him to her.

“We,” he whispered. “We.”

Sunlight streamed through the open window of the cabin and Claire shifted on the bed. Warmth enveloped her and she snuggled deeper under the covers and sighed. It felt as though arms were wrapped around her, hugging her in her sleep.

Her eyes flew open. Arms were wrapped around her. Griffin’s. She twisted a bit, careful not to wake him, and turned her head so she could look at him. Dark eyelashes rested on tan skin, a soft almost-smile poised on his lips. He looked softer, vulnerable and her heart swelled. She couldn’t believe she was with him. Again.

Last night had far exceeded any expectation or any dreams she might have entertained about being with Griffin again. She let her eyes move from his face to his chest and let her thoughts drift back to the night they’d shared. She shivered. No man had ever desired her or wanted her or loved her like that. No man except Griffin. Because even as a teenage boy, he’d turned her insides to jelly that night on the beach, that night they’d given themselves fully to each other, that night that had been a first for both of them.

“Good morning.”

Claire’s eyes flew to his. “Good morning.”

He smiled at her with half-lidded eyes. “How did you sleep?”

His voice was gravelly in the morning and she felt her pulse quicken. It was just one of the millions of things she still didn’t know about him.

“Fine,” she said. “You?”

His arm tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer. “Best night sleep I’ve ever had.”

She allowed a soft sigh to escape. She’d slept solidly for the first time in years. They’d made love and then after, Griffin had held her in his arms, his mouth trailing kisses along her temple, across her cheek. He’d whispered her to sleep, sweet sentiments that filled her heart almost to bursting.

“And before we fell asleep?” he asked, his breath blowing warm on her neck.

“What?”

“How
…
” he hesitated. “How was that?”

She smiled at him. How could she possibly begin to explain that it was perfect? That it was everything she’d imagined it would be, that it made every encounter she’d had in the past ten years pale in comparison? She couldn’t.

“Do you have to ask?” she said instead.

He grinned. “Yes.”

She bit her lip, suppressing a smile. “It was fine.”

“Oh?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Just fine? Hmm. Maybe I need more practice.” He pushed his torso into her, rubbing up against her. “Do you think?”

She felt desire bubble up again. She’d never been a morning person. Ever. But laying there with Griffin in the bed, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

And that terrified her. She felt herself sliding—no, diving—head-first back in love with him. He nuzzled her ear and she replayed the conversation from last night, the conversation before they’d tumbled into bed together. He’d told her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her. And as unbelievable as it sounded—that he’d pined over her the same way she had over him for the last decade—she believed him.

But where did that leave them? He was a world-renowned writer and journalist who traveled the globe and she was
…
unemployed. She didn’t know what his expectations were after the cruise ended. Had he just wanted to reconnect, to have the night they’d been cheated out of?

She thought about high school. Who knew what would have happened after graduation if they hadn’t broken up? It was likely that they would have gone their separate ways, anyway. College, jobs, etc.

Closure, she thought. That’s what this cruise was. A way to make amends with the past, to live the fairytale of one more night together. And when they docked later that morning, they’d say their goodbyes and part ways.

Her stomach clenched at the thought. She didn’t want to say goodbye again. Saying goodbye to Griffin ten years ago was hard enough. How could she live through doing it again?

“Oh, shit.”

Claire’s eyes flew to Griffin’s. “What?”

“We overslept. Like, by a lot.”

He showed her his watch. It was 9:45. The ship was originally supposed to dock at 8 o’clock but the melee from the day before had delayed their arrival time. Cruise personnel had used every channel available yesterday to inform passengers that their immediate departure from the ship at 10 am was imperative so they could prepare and welcome the next group of passengers.

“Oh my God.” Claire wrapped the sheet around her and leaped out of bed. “I’m not even packed!”

Griffin pulled on a pair of shorts and grabbed her empty bags from the top of the closet. He tossed them on the bed.

“Here. Start packing.”

They both raced around the room, grabbing clothes and toiletries and stuffing them into bags. Claire threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, taking exactly one minute to brush her teeth and twist her hair up into a messy ponytail. Griffin joined her at the sink for all of fifteen seconds, managing a cursory teeth-brushing and a swift finger-comb of his hair.

At 9:54 am, they were both dressed, packed and ready to go.

Griffin insisted on carrying her bags as they made their way to the upper deck. They walked in silence, watching as other cruise-goers hauled luggage and armfuls of souvenirs. Claire watched them and wondered if their cruise had been like hers. Life-changing.

Three days ago, she’d stepped on to the ship with no expectations and, if she was being honest, a bit of a bad attitude. She’d tried to be self-destructive, obstinate, stubborn and  pessimistic. And despite her best efforts, it hadn’t worked. Griffin had busted through all of that.

Life-changing sounded dramatic, but she didn’t think she was exaggerating when that’s how she thought of the trip.

They walked down the gangplank, the cool ocean breeze nipping at them as they made their way back to the dock. Claire glanced at the office, to the place where it had all started. It was hard to believe that, less than 72 hours earlier, she’d been standing in the office with Susan, arguing over a refund for the cruise she absolutely did not want to take.

And then Griffin had showed up. And everything had changed. Her entire life had been flipped upside-down, turned inside-out, in a matter of hours. She hadn’t expected any of this with the cruise. She’d forced herself to go because she wanted a fresh start. She owed it to herself after everything she’d lived through the past few years. And she’d known that going on a reunion cruise wasn’t going to fix things. But she’d gone to prove to herself that she could—to show herself that she was capable of starting over, of being spontaneous, of having fun.

But she hadn’t counted on Griffin Benson showing up. And she certainly hadn’t counted on falling in love with him all over again.

She felt the tears begin to build. She knew what would happen next. The goodbye. She turned to him, anxious to get it over with.

“So,” she said, taking her bags from him. “It was really great to see you. To
…
to reconnect.”

“Yeah, it was,” he said, smiling.

“And I wanted to thank you. You know, for letting me crash your room and everything.”

“You can crash with me any time.”

She nodded and adjusted her sunglasses, hoping the tears pooling in her eyes wouldn’t slide down her cheeks.

“OK.” She took a deep breath and leaned toward him. She kissed his cheek. “So, thank you. For everything.”

“What are you doing, Claire?”

She swallowed. “Saying goodbye.”

Griffin shook his head and sighed. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said this entire weekend?”

“I don’t understand
…
”

He dropped his backpack on the dock and reached for her. His arms wrapped around her waist and he buried his face in her neck.

“I’m not saying goodbye, Claire,” he whispered, his lips grazing her skin. “Not now. Not ever.”

“But–”

He raised his head and looked at her. Gently, he lifted her sunglasses and settled them on top of her head. “Look at me.”

She raised her gaze to meet his. His heart slammed against his ribs when he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. He knew she was hurting, knew she was bracing herself for him to leave again.

“I am not saying goodbye,” he repeated. “Do you hear me?  No more goodbyes.”

She nodded.

“Good. We’ve both spent the last ten years living our lives with regret. Wondering what could have been. And now we know. And I am not giving that up. Understand?”

“But–”

“I’m not finished.” His eyes blazed, his mouth set in a firm line. “There is nothing you can say that would convince me you don’t want this. This chance, this whatever you want to call it. Not after this weekend. And certainly not after last night. I’m not letting you walk away from me.”

“I–”

He crushed her against him. “I’m not letting you go, Claire. Not now. Not ever.”

He felt her arms curve around his neck and he tightened his grip. Last night had been the most amazing night of his life. Not because of the sex. But because he finally felt like he was where he was supposed to be. With Claire. Everything melted away last night—the regret, the sadness, the longing. For the first time in forever, he was the Griffin Benson he was supposed to be. He’d found the other part of him, the part that had been missing for so long.

He’d found Claire.

“How is this going to work?” she whispered.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I think we work perfectly together.”

“No. I mean, your job. Your traveling. I mean, I don’t even know where you live!”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I work where I want to work. Period. And you should know where I live.”

A confused expression clouded her face. “You live at home?”

He laughed. “Um. No.”

“Well, then how am I supposed to know.”

He planted a kiss on her nose. “Should be obvious, silly. I’ll live wherever you are.”

Small tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “Wherever I am?”

His hands found hers and he folded her fingers into hiss, gave them a quick squeeze. He kissed her lips softly, then rested his forehead against hers.

He smiled. “No more goodbyes.”

THE END

Shelby Gates is a romance writer who splits her time between Minneapolis and Dallas. She is currently at work on her second novel. You can find her at www.shelbygates.blogspot.com