WEEK 39: Stay

Prompted by: Carole

It was a mistake.

I wouldn’t regret a single moment. I wouldn’t change a single thing.

But it was still a mistake.

There would be serious consequences for this.

I’d held her in my arms. Tasted her on my lips. Inhaled her into my godforsaken lungs again…

And now I was fucked.

Locking the door behind us with an unsteady hand, I followed her across the hotel suite like a starved puppy. She headed straight for the bedroom, dropping pieces of clothing like Kibbles n’ Bits every step of the way. Every torturous, heart-pounding, soul-crushing step of the damn way.

Yeah, I was completely fucked.

Speaking of fucked, I didn’t even do it properly.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t fuck her at all.

Instead, I sealed a tender kiss over the scar I’d branded onto her flawless skin and slid inside. Slow. Controlled. Demonstrating an incredible amount of restraint. An absurd amount of fucking restraint. That no warm-blooded man with a functioning dick could possibly possess.

It was absolute insanity.

At some point over the past three years, I must’ve been drugged and castrated without my knowledge. Because I did something I’ve never done before. Not even once. Not even close. I buried a silent groan into her hair, gently rocked my hips…

And made love to her.

The only woman I’ve ever wanted to keep.

The only woman who’s ever kept me.

Hell, I’d practically begged her to marry me back then. Groveled at her gorgeous little feet. On my hands and knees.

So how the fuck was I supposed to survive losing her for a third time?

I wouldn’t.

I’d barely survived the first two.

The withdrawal would tear me apart. Rip me to pieces. Jesus Christ, I was already starting to bleed out. Inching toward certain death with each passing beat.

Completely fucked.

Setting my jaw, I took one final breath. Savoring the sweet scent of heaven. Committing every last detail to memory. Knowing I would never be this close again.

Then carefully slipped out of bed without waking her.

“Slim…”

I couldn’t stop them. Pussy-whipped tears pricked my eyes as I turned away. Blinding me to shit.

She drove the dagger in a bit deeper and did what I wouldn’t do.

What I couldn’t do.

She reached out, her slender fingers threading through the spaces between mine.

I flinched at her touch.

Because we still fit together perfectly. Damn puzzle pieces.

And it hurt. It really fucking hurt.

This goodbye was going to kill me.

“Stay.”