One Little Kiss (6 page)

“Yes. Yes.”

She pushes my hand away and we shift our bodies around on the bed. We end up with my head on her belly and her lying on her back with her legs extended up, feet resting on the headboard. Leighton runs her fingers through my hair and I’m in heaven.

Quiet settles over us as we watch the snow fall outside the window. The flakes are big and fat now, signs that the storm is winding down and we might catch a flight out of here tomorrow. The hint of disappointment at leaving is new but not surprising and tempers my itch to get to Rome and beyond.

“Can I see the picture?” Leighton asks, gesturing towards my sketchpad, which ended up at the end of the bed during our pillow fight.

I lift up and snag the book, handing it over to her before I can change my mind. She’s seen my work before just not any of the pictures of her. I hold my breath and turn back to the window as she flips through the pages. She is focused, occasionally letting out a murmur of appreciation or recognition at the subject matter.

“I want this one.” She holds up one of Landon facedown on the couch, mouth hanging open after a night of partying. The best part is his pants halfway down his legs and his smiley face boxer shorts on display. I remember that moment, he was so trashed and I was hungover but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get the moment down on paper. “I’ll frame it and give it to my mom for Christmas.”

“It’s yours,” I say, laughing at Mrs. Greer’s probable reaction. “I might have to accept your annual invite to hang out with you guys over the holidays just to see that.”

“You take the photo at the moment of opening and I’ll make sure to have her Xanax close by.”

“It's a date,” I say and then realize that I don’t know where I’ll be at Christmas. I haven’t thought that far ahead.

“Jonas, look at me,” she says and I turn to look at her. She’s stopped on a sketch of her from earlier tonight. She was dozing, hand tucked against her cheek as she curled up in the covers. It was a quick rendering, a reminder for a painting I would execute later. She riffles through the pages and finds some other sketches of her, playing the violin and sitting on the couch in my apartment, her brother by her side. “Is this how you see me?”

“You don’t?”

She cuts me a look that warns me that she’s not going to let me fuck around with the question. “I want to know how
you
see me.”

I pause, trying to figure out what she’s really asking.

“Don't think about it. Just tell me.”

And then I know what this is about and I’m happy to tell her.

“Yeah, I do. I see you exactly like that.” I reach up and snag her hand, weaving our fingers together. “You can sleep like that because you know who you are and you’re comfortable in your skin. You have a gift that allows you to make music that touches people. You give it so freely, so openly, they just can’t help but respond to you. I think you’re the bravest person I know.”

“I’m not brave,” she whispers, her head dipping forward as she tries to hide behind the fall of her hair. I release her hand and push the strands back behind her ear, letting my touch linger over the soft skin of her cheek.

“You are.” I laugh. “Look at you going on your first trip to Ireland and taking a job that will take you all over the fucking world. I know it freaks you out but you’re doing it anyway. I’d say that’s pretty brave.”

She nods, swallowing hard and chuckling a little bit. “My parents think I’m biting off more than I can chew.”

“They just worry about you. It’s in their job description to lie awake at night and get an ulcer fixating on things that will never happen.”

“I know and I understand why. I was really sick and they were terrified that they were going to lose me and then they worried that Landon would get sick too.”

I hadn’t thought about that before. Mr. and Mrs. Greer must have been insane wondering if their son would get cancer as well. It’s not such a leap when you consider they are twins. It must have been a nightmare.

“What was it like being sick?” I’ve never asked her before but suddenly I feel like she might be one of the few people who might get what is going on in my head.

“The worst part about it is worrying about how it impacts other people,” she says. “At first I was worried that I would die but I got over it when my life became nothing but appointments and needles and my hair falling out. The worst part was the fear in my mom’s eyes and trying to hide it when I was knocked on my ass by something. She’d get this look, a thousand yard stare. I hated it because I knew she was trying to hide from all of the terrifying shit going through her head.”

“I know that look. My mom had it when I got my diagnosis.” It sucked and I felt a little guilty for putting her through this even though it isn’t because of anything I did. “I always make sure I keep it upbeat around her because I don’t want her worrying more than she already is. If I’m cool about it then she can handle it better.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, nodding as she places the pad on the bed and begins that amazing sift of fingers through my hair again. “The treatments, being tired all the time, the constant doctors gave me clear focus. I just wanted to get through the next phase and I took each day and every little victory like I'd won a gold medal at the Olympics. One foot in front of the other.”

“And now?”

“I’m just tired of living under the weight of the words ‘remission’ and ‘cancer survivor’.” She stops the caress of my head to clarify. “I’m glad I got better and beat it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m ready to find out who I am beyond those labels.”

“I think that’s good.” I pause and then nudge her with a poke to her side that makes her giggle and squirm away. “I’d say that’s pretty brave, Red.”

She makes a face at me and tugs on my hair. I swat her hands away but relax into her touch again when she resumes stroking my scalp. It’s late and I think we should probably go to sleep but I can't move. The quiet, her hands in my hair and her soft naked body against mine is pretty damn perfect.

“Jonas?” she asks.

“Yeah?”

“Are you afraid?”

I stop breathing. My skin crawls with awareness as I weigh my options of fight or flight. I don't want to argue with her, she’s only asking because she cares about me. And I don’t want to run either—not from Leighton. This night is flying by and I want to wring out every moment I have with her. It’s been an escape, a respite from the reality of what is coming. But her question brings it all crashing down and plants it right in the middle of the bed with us.

She takes my silence as anger and quickly backtracks. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”

“Yes. I’m afraid,” I blurt out because I don’t want her to feel like she can’t ask me, like we aren’t close enough. I didn't hesitate to tell her about the diagnosis and I know I can trust her with this part of it too. “I’m fucking terrified.”

She murmurs something low but unintelligible but I don’t need to know the words to understand the feeling. Her lips brushing against my forehead is almost too much and I reach up to grab her, holding her close and wrapping my arms around her neck.

“I know in my head that this is manageable and that I can have a full life. Fuck, I might have most of my life with mostly normal vision before I’m unable to see.” And here is where I get down to it and bare it all. “But my Grandpa was forty-three and the thing pinging loudly in my head is that it is only twenty years from now and twenty years doesn’t feel so goddamn long.”

“So the traveling...”

“I’m terrified that I’m not going to see all I can see before it’s nothing but blackness.” I ball my hands into fists and press them against my eyes, unable to stop the shaking that has now taken over my body. Fear and anger is a very powerful combination and I’m suspended between the two. “Even if I get my twenty years I think of all the shit I’m going to miss. Forget all the Hallmark card bullshit about cherishing a sunset, I’m going to miss seeing my parents as they age, my own kids and wife. They'll all be perpetually whatever age they are when I lose my sight. I might never see my grandkids.” I grit my teeth and spit out the rest of my venom and wait for her reaction. “So yes, I’m afraid but I’m also fucking angry at this shitty hand I’ve been dealt.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you being alone somewhere in the world and working through this on your own,” she whispers against my cheek, her fingers resuming their soothing pattern in my hair. “Can’t you come back? Stay with me. Finish school and let me—”

I cut her off because this is the place where we cannot go.
I
cannot go. How can I ask her take on a future with a man who will one day be blind and dependent? She can have anyone she wants, someone who will be whole and I can’t tie her down to me. I grab her hand and stop her movement, looking at her until she lifts her gaze to mine.

“Leighton, don't ask me this. Just don't.” I give her hand a squeeze, letting her know that I am serious about this point. “I have to go and find my way on this and I can't ask you to do it with me.”

“What if I want to do this?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I soften my tone when the hurt flares in her eyes. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but lying would only lead to pain for her in the long run. “I am barely hanging on right now and I don’t know where I’m going or where I’m going to end up. You’ve caught me on a good day or you’re the reason it’s been a good day but I’m not a person you want to be around right now. I need to work through this and I can’t do it if I’m worried about how you are handling all of it. I’ll slip into a black mood and lash out and you will be hurt.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Yes, I will.” I cup her jaw, running my thumb along the plump swell of her bottom lip. I lean up and kiss her, lingering over it with a gentle brush of my flesh on hers. “You have a wonderful opportunity ahead of you and you need to just go and do it. I can’t saddle you with a future that I’m not even sure of at this point. Just forget me Leighton.”

“You’re asking the impossible,” she says with a stubborn steel in her voice.

“Well then, you just need to let me go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Leighton

I wake up with Jonas between my legs, tongue sliding along my clit in slow, easy strokes.

The covers are thrown off the bed and my overheated skin is exposed to the chill of the air in the room. I shift as a pulse of pleasure ripples through my body, a moan escaping into the silence. It’s loud and long and alerts him that I’m fully awake.

He raises his head, lips slick, eyes dark with lust but his grin is all Jonas. “You sleep like the dead.”

“And you’re trying to kill me.” The last two words stutter as he trails a hand across my body and captures a nipple with his fingers. A lazy swirl, the slightest tug and I’m thrusting my sex towards him, begging him to put his mouth back on me. “Jonas, please.”

“Red. You should never have to beg,” he whispers and lowers his head back to me and delivers his carnal kiss.

I am a mess. Hot. Cold. Shivery all over. Just on the edge of flying apart. I don’t know how long he’s been going down on me but I’m ready to shatter into a million pieces.

His tongue zeroes in on my clit. He’s wasting no time to get me off. Not teasing. It’s like he wants me to fall apart at Mach 1 and I’m ready to oblige.

It begins deep inside me, a flash and tingle in my belly and the next thing I know, I’m on fire and it is the most delicious burn. Instead of running from it, I reach for it and try to hold on as long as I can.

Jonas rises from between my legs, a sleepy but intensely feral look on his face as he lifts me up and dives in for a deep, possessive kiss. Our tongues spar for dominance and I wrap my arms around his neck as I crawl into his lap. His hands roam everywhere, my back, my shoulders, and my ass where he ends his exploration with a squeeze.

This embrace is intense and suddenly all of the playfulness from earlier is gone. This is it. Our last few hours together. We’ll get on separate planes and I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I clasp his face in my hands and pour everything into my kiss. I can’t tell him what’s going on in my head. I know what he needs to do to be at peace and I can’t take that from him.

My body won’t lie though and I can only hope that he doesn’t fully understand its language.

His erection is hard and demanding between us and I grind into it, my own arousal spiking again with the memory of how good he feels inside me. It is the only thing that will soothe the ache in my chest.

I break the kiss and we are both breathless.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice soft with tenderness that makes my chest ache and expand to the point where my whole body hurts with the want of it.

“I need you too.” I get another condom out of my bag and hand it to him and watch as he slides it down over his length.

He remains seated on the side of the bed and I move to straddle him. I loop my arms around his neck, watching his face as he slowly enters me. He is big, hard and I’m tender from last night. It’s almost too much but I wait, letting out a sigh when my body melts around him.

He groans, no doubt feeling the moment I let all my guard down and welcome him inside. He’s so deep. Not just in the physical sense but inside
me
—inside my soul. Inside my heart.

I lean down and kiss him softly and it’s the signal he needs to begin the slow glide, the intimate push and pull. I lift myself up and let gravity pull me down, relishing every stretch as I strive for the climax that is right there already. I want him so much. I need him so much.

“Leighton,” he breathes against my neck, his face buried in my hair.

I hang on tight, closing my eyes and memorizing every sound, every scent. I don’t want it to end but with his next thrust I am falling. Coming. Melting.

“Yes. Give it all to me,” he murmurs and then he is still beneath me as his orgasm hits. He tightens his arms around me as if he wants to absorb me into his body. I hang onto him not loosening my grip until he relaxes.

We stay like that, wrapped around each other for what seems like forever but it is still over too soon. My eyes burn, tears scalding me as I struggle to keep them in. I’m breaking apart inside and I just know I will fly apart when he lets me go.