Something has shifted between us.
I don’t know if it’s the song or the look he gave me afterwards or the tears I pretended not to cry, but something has shifted.
Almost a resignation of our fate.
Didn’t he say as much in the song he wrote? In the lyrics he sang? In the way he came offstage, pulled me against him, and just held on as if he were saying goodbye?
It’s almost as if in his lyrics, Vince put all his cards on the table and yet we both realize he still can’t win the hand. There’s a small victory in making the play and a quiet defeat in knowing it still isn’t enough.
We don’t speak on the car ride back to the hotel. Our fingers are linked and glances are shared, but no words are exchanged.
Just absent thank-yous and you’re welcomes as doors are opened, as the elevator button is pushed, as we walk toward my hotel room door.
I open it without inviting him in. I don’t need to. He just walks in behind me and closes the door at his back.
He knows just like I do. No matter how much either of us was going to fight this, this undeniable draw we have toward each other, that in the end, it’s stronger than us.
I give myself the grace to stare out the window at the city beyond. I’m not going to convince myself that being with Vince is for closure, that I’ll be able to walk away on my terms.
Haven’t the years taught me that there are no terms when it comes to Vince? There is just the here and now. The moment to revel in. The tomorrows to forget about. The sensations to lose myself in. The feelings that I need to rein in and not let go of.
“Shug.” His voice is quiet, so very different than the larger-than-life persona onstage a couple hours ago.
With my heart in my throat, I turn to face the man I’ve loved most of my life with the knowledge that love alone is not enough.
He reaches out and cups my face, making me feel like I’m the only one he sees. He moves closer, his eyes searching, for what I don’t know.
Our faces are inches apart.
Our bodies already heated.
Our heads already imagining what the other will feel like again.
Our hearts already knowing this might break us, but we can’t change what’s written in the stars.
“I’ve thought about being with you again so many times,” he whispers and brushes my lips with his. “On lonely nights.” He unzips the back of my skirt. “When something reminds me of you.” He pushes it down over my hips as he kisses the curve of my neck. “When I allow myself the right to miss you.”
Nerves rattle through me, stealing the moment away. My insecurities have me reaching to tug my shirt down to cover the stretchmarks on my hips. To distract from the sag of my breasts. To hide the thickness of my thighs. The battle scars I attribute to motherhood.
“Shug. Look at me.”
I plaster a smile on my face, but he doesn’t buy it for one second. “What? I’m fine. Just nervous. I’m not the same as I used to be.”
He nods almost as if admitting that he’s nervous too. Almost as if he’s acknowledging that there is so much riding on this moment, so much anticipation built up toward it, that he’s afraid to mess it up too.
He kisses me again. Our tongues dance and lips talk through actions. And as we do, he reaches down and takes my hem from my hands before slowly lifting my shirt over my head. My bra comes next.
When I stiffen, he just shakes his head, slides his hands down my body, and lowers himself as he goes.
“You’re beautiful, Bristol.” He kisses my stomach. “You always have been.” Another kiss to each of my hips. “You always will be.” He runs his hands down to the top of the boots I’m still wearing before going back up to cup my ass. “I’d offer to turn the lights off for you.” A kiss to the underside of my breast. “To make you feel more comfortable.” A kiss to the other. “But I’m a selfish man.” He’s back at eye level with me and there is no mistaking the desire in his eyes. “I don’t want to miss a single thing tonight and that includes getting to see you.” He kisses me tenderly. “I bared myself to you tonight. I laid it all out there for the world to hear. For you to know. Please don’t hide from me.”
“Vince—”
“Let me love you, Bristol. Let me show you the only other way I know how.”
I initiate the kiss this time. My hands thread through the hair at the base of his neck as the soft cotton of his shirt tickles my bare skin. We kiss like we’ve never kissed before. Slow and timid. Soft and searching. Like we never want it to end.
There’s intimacy to it. In reveling in the calm before the storm. In enjoying the now and forgetting about tomorrow. In trying to memorize every groan and gasp and the way he tastes and how his touch feels.
I was too young to think about that last time. To try and burn the moment in my mind knowing it would be the only time. Not this time. Not now.
It’s his shirt I take off.
It’s his pants I unbuckle and push down now.
It’s his body I admire in its incredible entirety.
I kiss my way down his torso. Lips on his chest. Down the line of his abdomen. His happy trail. The dent of his hips. And then as I lower myself to my knees, I look up at him.
His eyes grow dark, his breathing shallow, as I grab hold of his cock and slowly suck it into my mouth.
His head rolls back on his shoulders and his thighs tense, but his hand finds its way under my chin and holds it there. I look up at him with his cock still in my mouth and my entire body begs for me to go faster so I can have his touch.
“Keep going.” His dick twitches in my mouth. “I want to watch you. Your lips. Your cheeks. Your hand. Your eyes. I want to memorize this moment.”
I begin to work him slowly. The softest scrape of my teeth earns a hiss of pleasure. The suction of my lips garners a firmer grip on my chin so he can fuck my mouth. The lick and hum over his length gets me murmured praise.
“That’s it.”
“Just like that.”
“Let that fucking gorgeous mouth of yours work me over.”
But woven in that praise is gentleness this time. A solemnity about the moment. An unspoken understanding that just like last time, we’re only getting one night.
To make amends.
To make up for lost time.
To love each other knowing there are no tomorrows.
“I need to be inside you,” he whispers before helping me to my feet. He takes a moment to protect himself before sitting on the bed where I then straddle him.
I lean forward and kiss him with an edged desperation as he positions his cock, and I sink ever so slowly down onto him. Our kisses smother his moan and my gasp as I seat himself fully within me.
There’s a moment when we’re completely connected, when our eyes meet, and I swear to God he can see every single truth I’m hiding. That I love him. That I’ve only ever loved him. That I fear I’ll never be able to love another like him. That I’m the mother of his child.
Time suspends.
Emotion wells in our eyes.
Then I begin to rock over him. Gentle. Slowly. Without any urgency.
Our lips meet. Our hands roam. Our skin warms. Our bodies heat with desire and longing fulfilled.
My fingers fist in his hair as my body starts to build. Layer upon layer. Brick upon brick. Emotion upon emotion.
My breaths are shallow.
My heart races.
His name is a hum on my lips as his hands help me with each rise up and grind back down over him.
“Look at me,” Vince murmurs.
But I don’t.
Can’t.
There are tears in my eyes that I don’t understand. That confuse me, but only make the pleasure more intense and the moment more poignant.
I love him with all that I am. With all that I have.
“Dammit, Shug. Look at me. I want to remember you like this. I need to.”
The break in his voice has me meeting his eyes as our bodies move together. As my fingernails begin to dig into his biceps, and my muscles tighten around his cock. I struggle to keep them open and locked on his because the sensations are too raw, too intense, too real. Every nerve feels touched. Every ounce of blood feels invigorated. Every suck in of breath feels intoxicating.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs as his face begins to pull tight and his muscles tense against mine.
The orgasm hits me like a surging tidal wave instead of a bolt of lightning. It’s a slow swell of sensation that builds and builds and builds until it hits with a ferocity that’s deceptive.
I rock my hips over Vince’s, wanting more friction to prolong the pleasure. To make the moment last.
“Vince.” It’s a breathless plea and within a beat, he has his hand on the back of my neck and is bringing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss. One packed with the same violent desire that’s pulsing through me.
“I’ve got you, Shug. I’ve got you,” he says as he holds me in place and begins to do the work for me with his own hips.
He sets a bruising pace that is just what I need to set off the ripple effect again. To prolong the downfall. To keep us in this moment for as long as possible.
And just as I begin to surge up again, just as I fall off that waterfall, Vince cries out my name in two broken syllables.
His hands are on me, pulling me against him, squeezing around me as his lips find mine again. There is no space between us. No breath of air that isn’t shared. No heartbeat that isn’t reciprocated against our chests.
It’s just Vince.
It’s just me.
It’s just one last sweet regret.
