“Why do you?” he asked. “If that’s part of the issue, why not tell him?”
“I have my reasons,” I said. “It’s none of his damn business to start. I’ve given him the space he needs to deal with his problems and date a woman who seems like she’s making his life more hectic, even though I probably shouldn’t have. There was a time when we shared everything with each other, but he hasn’t wanted that from me for more than a year. And…fuck, Will, all I really want is one thing I don’t have to share with everyone. Something I can keep all to myself without anyone touching or judging or interfering. I don’t…I don’t want to share you.”
“That’s my girl,” he said.
“When will I see you next?” I asked.
Will was quiet for a moment, and I leaned up on an elbow to look at him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “The next six months are up in the air right now. I’ll know soon.”
“Sixmonths?”
“I’m up for another tour,” he said. “But I don’t want you worrying about that now.”
Will’s lips met mine, firm and deliberate, and his hands brushed down my body, over my thighs and between my legs. Though our time together was rapidly vanishing, his touch was careful and unhurried, almost reverent. He settled over me, and my heart was again overflowing when he paused to ask whether I was feeling well enough for more.
“Yes,” I said, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. “Yes.”
He kissed between my breasts and up my neck, and said, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much. If anything hurts.”
I nodded, canting my hips toward him when he reached between us and pushed into me. “I will.”
Will twined his arms around my torso, holding me tight as he moved inside me, and I anchored my legs on his waist because even this close wasn’t close enough right now. We rocked together as if we had all the time in the world, and perhaps knowing that we didn’t made those sweet, drowsy moments that much more perfect.
He stilled, lifting his head from the crook of my shoulder that he’d claimed as his own private destination, and smiled down at me.
“What?” I asked.
His hips rolled gently while he continued gazing at me. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “I don’t say that enough.”
Will took my hand from where it rested on his bicep, and pressed a kiss to my palm. With his eyes locked on mine, he placed my hand over his heart. He leaned down, kissing my cheeks, my jaw, and finally my lips, and the orgasm that arrived was a pleasant bonus to the wordless everything that was passing between us now.
*
I woke upalone on Sunday morning.
I knew Will was gone before my hand swept over the mattress, but there was something about confirming his absence that made it sting even more.
It shouldn’t have. None of this should have been a surprise to me. I walked in with my eyes wide open, and I knew this weekend was going to be over almost as quickly as it started.
Going home was always the worst. It was a lot like cleaning up after a big party: the house was a mess, everyone was gone, and all the anticipation was replaced with emptiness.
And my ladybits were usually sore.
My flight wasn’t until later in the day, but I went to the airport and waited until a standby seat came available. My phone wouldn’t turn on and nothing happened when I plugged it in, so I spent my afternoon paging through magazines and devouring some juicy romance novels with bare-chested men on the covers.
If the commando business didn’t work out for Will, he could always fall back on cover modeling.
Eventually, I got a flight to Boston. It was quick and uneventful, and as the cab barreled through the streets of Beacon Hill toward my apartment, I couldn’t help thinking something was wrong. I couldn’t put my hands on the source of that sense, but I couldn’t get rid of it either.
My apartment was cold and lonely, and I stopped only long enough to change out of the slim, sexy jeans and lacy lingerie I brought on this trip for Will’s benefit. Cotton bra and panties, old bootcuts, and a fuzzy turtleneck sweater felt instantly better, and I headed out to replace my phone.
I wandered around the store while the salesman configured my new device. “You have a lot of messages coming in,” he called.
For a second, I hoped they were from Will. Maybe he was thinking about me while he drove to Virginia, or found out it wouldn’t be six months until he could see me again, or maybe he just wanted to tell me he missed me.
But Will was the last person on my mind when I saw scores of frantic texts from Riley, all insisting that I call him immediately.
I skipped the call in favor of a quick text telling him I was on my way, and drove straight to the restored firehouse he and Sam shared in the Fort Point neighborhood. Riley was pacing in the kitchen when I arrived, his hands braced on his head. His eyes were bloodshot and his body radiated anxiety, and I realized something awful had happened this weekend.
