cruelest of sweet fantasies, I was going to pamper that daydream. Tomorrow, with all its regrets, remorse and recriminations, would come. But tonight, right here, right now, tomorrow could kiss my ass.
Rich scooped me up, and I wrapped my legs around his hips as we kissed, long and languidly. Even drunk, Rich was a fantastic kisser. I writhed against him, and he panted as he turned and lowered me to the mattress. I hit it a little harder than I’m sure he intended, but I didn’t mind. A perverse voice in my head whispered I didn’t deserve softer, kinder consideration for what I was doing.
I pulled the tank top up over my head, gasping as Rich pulled my bikini top aside and bared my breasts. I moaned, arching my back as his hands lifted and molded my breasts, and he tweaked my nipples as he took my mouth in a scorching kiss.
I raked my nails down his back, and he lifted his head briefly, groaning in delight. I fumbled for the waistband of his shorts, unbuttoning them and sliding the zipper down to grasp him, already hard, in his boxer briefs.
He groaned. “God, Lucy, I lo—”
I moved up to kiss him, to stop him from uttering words that couldn’t be unsaid, from using that name that wasn’t mine. It was like unleashing the beast. He growled, his fingers sliding into my short hair, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss.
He rocked his hips against mine, then ran his hands over my body. We twisted in the sheets, dragging at each other’s shorts. When we were both naked, I rolled over on top of him, straddling his hips. He glanced up at me, a sexy, goofy smile on his face, as he slid his hands over my hips. I dipped my head and kissed him, caressing the dark hair off his forehead, then gasped as he rolled us over and slid into me.
It was beautiful, it was hot and it was so bittersweet. Every sigh, every muscle clench, every caress, was laden with tenderness, with an unspoken farewell.
When it was over, Rich rolled to the side, breathless, his arm lying across my chest.
“Good night, Lucy,” he murmured, his eyelids flickering as he tried to stay awake. I watched him lose the battle as his chest rose and fell evenly, and his eyelids slid shut.
“Goodbye,” I whispered when I knew he was asleep.
You’re doing the right thing, Maisey. I frowned at the voice inside my head. Sometimes, doing the right thing sucked.
I slid from the bed and gathered my things. Twenty minutes later, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed my wallet and passport and slunk out into the night.
I didn’t look back.
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