Goodbye to You (29 page)

He pulls me to my side, facing him. His head is on the bed below the edge of the pillow, level with my chest.

I arch my back, curving closer to him.

He traces the outline of one breast, from collarbone to ribcage, to the sensitive skin on the underside before tracing a similar path on the other side.

With the same finger, he circles one areola before moving to the other.

I would normally shut my eyes and throw my head back as he stroked the sensitive flesh, but tonight. I watch, eyes wide and moving from his face to his fingers as they dance across my skin. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Apparently not satisfied with using one hand, he lays me flat on my back and uses both hands, pinching and squeezing both nipples at the same time.

After minutes of this exquisite torture, he lies on his stomach and takes a nipple into his mouth.

Sweet Jesus.

A jolt of electricity shoots from breast to belly and lower, settling between my legs. My thighs actually quiver.
Quiver.

He moves to the other side and nips the stiff peak, licking it before taking it into his mouth. He kneads the flesh of the other breast while sucking on this one, taking as much of me as he can into his mouth. The tug of his mouth sends more ripples of pleasure through me, from fingertips to toes. He switches back and forth from one side to the other, with the sweet pressure. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.

I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers diving into his thick hair, holding him tight, smothering him. I don’t want him to leave me.

“Yes. Harder. More.”

My toes dig into the comforter, and I can’t believe this is happening.

My legs shake violently, and the only thing keeping me from bucking off the bed is the delicious weight of his torso partially lying across me.

He sucks harder, tugging and rolling the other nipple in his fingers as I shake.

My broken sobs of pleasure echo through the room.

I came, with no touching below the waist.

Wow.

She stops shaking minutes later, and I prop up on my elbows, scanning her face.

She’s crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you? I—”

“No.” She sniffles, and I’m not sure what to do. “It’s . . . that’s never happened to me.”

I laugh. “It’s not common, but not unheard of, either.”

She cocks her head to the side, her loose gold hair spilling across the pillow. I’m not sure how to interpret her expression.

“I’ve read, I mean, that’s never happened for me either. But I’ve done research.”

“Research?” She sits and climbs under the covers, shivering. I slide under with her, curling into her warmth. I never want to leave her. But in a few hours I’ll drive her to the hospital and leave my precious girl in the hands of her capable medical team.

I snuggle behind her, one arm under the pillow and the other circling her, cupping one of her delectable breasts.

I’ll never tell her, but I will miss them.

They weren’t the first thing I noticed about her, but close.

The first thing was her warm, crooked smile, and when she grinned at me from across Paddy’s and raised her shot glass in my direction, I was done for.

I fell in love.

I could have lived without her had I never seen her again, but after the day at the hospital, there was no going back.

Like I’d had cement shoes tied to my feet and been tossed into the Gulf of Mexico, drowning in the warm, colorful depths of her love.

Her small hand slides between us, her warm palm cupping my penis, massaging my testicles.

The hard-on that had subsided after she came returns in full force, and I strain against her hand. I wanted tonight to be for her, but my need to be inside her overwhelms everything else. She rolls over and tangles her fingers in my hair, my scalp tingling where her fingers massage. I lean in and kiss her slowly, my lips grazing her full mouth.

Her tongue darts out, and she whimpers. I deepen the kiss, but don’t quicken the pace. Nothing to rush. I don’t need sleep. All I need is to touch her, let her know how much I love her with my mouth, my hands, and my whole body.

I pull back and stare. The pale gold glow from the small bedside lamp gilds her skin, illuminating the fine hairs all over her body. She’s luminous.

I’ve seen many beautiful things in my life.

But nothing like this. Like her. Her bright blue eyes shine and offer an invitation I cannot resist.

I fumble at the nightstand drawer and pull out the packet. After sliding on the condom, I cover her completely, my arms braced on either side of her.

Her arms reach around my back, clutching at my hips as she opens her legs for me. I glide into her waiting heat and pause, savoring the slight clenching of her muscles around me.

It’s more than I could ever hope.

She’s exquisite, and I am the luckiest bastard in the world.

I move slowly in and out of her, never quickening the pace. Her hands clutch at my shoulders and arms. I arch over her, pulling her hands away and holding them above her head as I lock my gaze on hers.

I love when her mouth makes a little o when she comes, and I want her to see my face when I come.

She needs to know I’m all in, and I’m not going anywhere.

For life.

I promised myself I would stay off the Internet tonight. That I wouldn’t read any blogs or search for any post-surgical photos or jump into any discussion forums with other people like me. I’ve talked to people, looked at pictures, read stories. This is my story, so I’d decided not to paint my last few hours before surgery with anyone’s experiences but my own.

I broke my promise, and now I sit in the corner of my room on my laptop, the voices of the anonymous people echoing through my head.
I changed. I became a miserable wretch. The people I loved stopped loving me.

Would I become that person?

Another voice:
I ended up with ovarian cancer. We wanted kids. We never had them. It never felt like the right time, and then cancer made sure there never would be a right time.

Fuck. I can’t do this to him.

I’d watched him for the last few weeks with the kids, his desire for a family shining in his eyes. His need for a normal life scrawled like graffiti all over his face. In this time, I’ve realized one thing: I am the wrong person for him.

Despite the fact I’ve never found anyone more perfect for me.

I nudge at his shoulder. “You need to go.” Shay is knocked the hell out, his long, lean frame spread across a good portion of the bed.

He won’t wake up. I shake his shoulder with all the force I can muster. “Get. Up.”

He bolts upright, eyes wild and head turning side-to-side. He rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “Do we need to go? Did we oversleep?”

“No. I don’t need to be at the hospital for hours.”

“Good. Come back to bed.” He reaches his long arms for me but draws back when I move away.

I shake my head and snatch his clothes from the floor, piling them on the end of the bed for him to reach.

“No. You need to go,” I say again, hoping the repetition will pound the concept into his head.

“Thea, what’s going on? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t see you anymore.” No. Be firmer. “
Don’t
want to see you anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We—”

“We what, Shay? Fucked? Don’t you understand?”

His wide eyes tell me no.

“From the start it’s been about sex. I needed someone to make me feel hot, make me forget the surgery. Make me come till my eyes rolled back into my head.”

“Stop, Thea.” He blinks and cracks his neck.

“Mission accomplished. You fit the bill, but we’re done.” I choke on the words. “Get dressed and go.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and stands to slide on his boxers. I try not to look at his magnificent legs, but they’re so . . .

My tongue sticks to the dry roof of my mouth.

This is much harder than I anticipated.

He screws up his face, his forehead wrinkling. Those beloved dimples he’d shared with me all night are nowhere to be found. “Why?”

“I told you. The sex was fabulous, but I’m starting a new chapter in my life and need a clean break.” The tears stinging my eyes blur my vision. I turn my back to him.

“I don’t understand. What’s changed in the last few hours? I asked you not to lie ever again. Tell me.”

I break when he places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Please. This is not easy.” I sob and sink to the floor. “I can’t do this to you. Your expression when you saw Dr. Knox’s wife with her baby. When she was breastfeeding. I can’t ever do that. Hell, Shay, I’m at increased odds for ovarian cancer too. About thirty to forty percent. Do you remember that from your genetic studies classes? I may never have kids.”

“Thea, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what, Shay, be honest? That’s what you want. This is me, in my ugly, naked form. If I do have kids, I sure as hell can’t nurse them.” I’m shaking and crying, snot running out of my nose and onto my upper lip. I swipe it with my sleeve and square my shoulders.

“Is it you, Thea? Or me? You don’t want kids with me because of the long line of crazy in my family?”