But then I start to explore, moving my lips over his, tasting him again like it’s the first time. In some ways it feels like it is—like I’m meeting him all over again, but this time with the knowledge that he’s my undoing.
He tastes like pineapples from the margarita, hints of the tacos, and something completely him. It’s intoxicating, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol I just consumed. It’s pure Patton, and my body responds like it’s been awaiting this exact taste for centuries.
As soon as my center rubs against him, feeling his hard length straining against his jeans, I let out a breathy moan that seems to snap something inside him. The sound hangs in the air between us, and I watch as Patton’s pupils dilate and his resolve breaks.
In an instant, I’m lying flat on my back, my fingers fisting his hair and his forearms framed on either side of my head. He delves into my mouth, and our tongues tangle and duel, neither taking it easy, not after all this time.
His chest meets mine, and the weight of him—God, the delicious weight of him covering me—makes me feel both dizzy and alive. He’s filled out over the years—harder, heavier, defined—and I feel every sculpted muscle under my fingertips.
His erection grazes my center, and even that friction, dulled through my jeans, makes me mewl against his mouth. Heat pools inside my panties, and I don’t have to touch myself to know how wet I am for him. How ready and eager my body is for him after just one stolen moment.
His hand squeezes my left breast, tweaking and rolling my nipple until it’s a stiff peak beneath the fabric of my shirt. His teeth nip my bottom lip, sucking and biting, causing my hips to lift of their own accord.
“Christ, Nisha. I feel like I’ve fallen off the wagon.” He kisses me again before dragging his lips down to my neck, sucking until I whimper. “You still smell like pomegranates. Sweet, seductive.” His lips brush mine again. “One fucking taste, and I’m an addict all over again.”
My chest heaves, my body humming and alight.God yes, I want this. I need this.
And that’s when something inside my brain comes back online.
An alarm I’d put on snooze.
Patton’s fingers drag down to unbutton my jeans, his lips never parting from my skin. “Fuck, baby, I want you. I’ve always only wanted you?—”
I swallow, hating myself for what I’m about to do.
“Patton?” My chest constricts as I cup his cheeks, lifting his lips off me, even as a huge part of me wants them exactly where they were.
Patton reluctantly finds my eyes, his breaths ragged.
“Where does this go?”
“What?” His breaths come out harsh against the word.
“Where does this go? What does this become? How does our situation change with this?”
“Nisha—”
“From what I read online, you took on a project that will have you filming in God knows where. For weeks, maybe months. The interview said you have no inclination to slow down; in fact, you’re making more movies than almost any actor worldwide.”
“Let me explain.”
I place a hand over his heart, hearing his confirmation. “And that’s okay. It’s okay for you to have your career aspirations. You’ve worked hard to be where you are. I’d never want to come between that.”
I shake my head, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes. “But I can’t be a part of that again. I can’t be on a flight every couple of weeks, flying to wherever you are to see you. I can’t live with you being home only a few months a year, and that’s if we’re lucky and your multiple film schedules align.”
I take a breath. “I don’t want a partner who isn’t there when I truly need him to be. I don’t want to go through what I went through that night, completely alone, calling your phone but getting nothing but your voicemail.”
I remember it so clearly—sitting on my cold bathroom floor, tears streaming down my face, clutching my phone like it was my only lifeline. There were at least ten missed calls and a scared, teary voicemail begging him to call me back.
He didn’t. Not for two days.
Not until I knew it was over.
Patton’s eyes shutter, but not before I see the way my words tear at his soul. “I never meant for you to go through that alone, Nisha. I never meant for you to go through that at all.”
“I know.” I nod, my thumb grazing over his soft scruff. “And I believe you. I’ve never blamed you for it or the time before. But I also can’t go through life following you while you chase your career. I can’t be the shadow I felt like I was becoming . . . a shadow of myself.”
I shift and Patton allows me to get up. Straightening myself up, I wipe the lingering tears off my face. The breeze hits my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself protectively, a gesture that feels both literal and metaphorical.
