“You talk to people all day long, Shirley. Plus, you’re just mean,” I say, checking my phone. Still nothing. Sometimes Leif will check it if he has a spare second and get back to me. It’s the last time I look at the damn thing without being prompted by a ringer.
Shirley and I make brownies while we wait for her roots to turn blond, and then we spend way too long doing our makeup and selecting what to wear. It’s like we’re teenagers again, getting ready for a party in secret, except now I have this whole house to myself, an entire life that I never thought was in the cards. I settle on a backless tank and a pair of shorts. Shirley borrows one of my black dresses and makes light work of uncorking a bottle of wine. We’re riding our bicycles down to The Spot so we can have a drink or two before we set off.
Cleaning the kitchen, I carefully package some of the brownies to take to my mom tomorrow when I visit. I put the container in the bag, which contains a few photo albums. The nurses told me that even if she doesn’t remember who is in the photos, she’ll enjoy looking at them, and they might help her. I do anything I can to be helpful now that I feel so useless with regard to Mom’s care.
“You handling everything okay? Seems you are, but I’m not sure if it’s the orgasm haze. Are you really handling it, or are you distracted?” Shirley says, sneaking up behind me as I load the bag.
“I’m okay,” I say, nodding. I tell her I know it’s been coming for a long time. “The real kicker is sometimes I wonder if it’s going to happen to me. I look at these albums and can’t imagine not remembering my life. It’s scary.”
She puts her arm around my shoulder. “You know they told you it may not happen.”
“But it might,” I say, shaking my head. I tell her what her doctor told me about statistics, and she poo-poos them by trying to convince me doctors only say things to cover their own ass. When the wine-fueled conversation turns to something happier, we mount our bikes, turn the headlights on, and pedal toward the ocean. It’s an easy ride, the sidewalks are wide, and the traffic is nonexistent. The salty air turns my hair into a wavy mess, and the humidity covers my skin in a dewy glow. There’s no point in trying to go for a matte makeup look in Florida. It’s impossible. I grab the half-empty wine bottle from my basket and my cellphone as we park our bikes at the long bike rack adjacent to the field that everyone uses as a parking lot. Shirley has a head start, walking toward the path down to the Spot.
I’m momentarily distracted by the wine buzz and making sure my bike is secure when he sneaks up behind me, wrapping his big arms around my waist. I jump and let out a tiny yip.
“There you are. You’re late,” he rasps at my ear, the heat from his body enveloping me fully.
We are late, but he never messaged me back, so I didn’t know if he was coming. “Shirley and I got caught up at home. How was work? I missed talking to you today,” I reply, setting the wine back in the basket.
He kisses my cheek and then spins me to face him and plants his lips firmly on my mouth. It turns scandalous fast, his tongue invading my mouth as his hands trace lazy circles on my exposed back. “I missed you too,” he says. “So much that I had to do that so you would know just how much.”
“You could have just said it, but I enjoy kissing you,” I reply, my lips brushing his as I speak.
Leif licks his lips, pulling me closer. I exhale every pent-up worry and relax into his strong frame. “Work was crazy today. Lots of meetings. The thought of seeing you tonight was what got me through. Can we go somewhere?” he asks, tilting my chin up to take my mouth again. “I need you now.” His hard-on is pressing against me in an unbearably noticeable way. “Any which way I can have you. As soon as possible.”
He’s not usually this forthright or savage in his need. Don’t get me wrong, if he catches sight of me naked, it’s over. We’re having sex. If my shorts slide up when I bend over, we’re fucking as soon as the opportunity arises. If skin touches skin, he’s touching me, kissing me. The attraction is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Leif looks at me with dark, hungry eyes, and I know he’s not just talking. “Where?” I reply, the bundle of nerves between my legs pulsing from his heady gaze.
He looks around frantically. “Follow me,” he whispers, tugging my hand and keeping me close.
The wine makes me a little slow and cumbersome on my feet. The pedals on my bicycle were easy compared to walking. There’s a lifeguard stand in the distance, at the beach nearest the Spot. It’s illuminated by a domed beacon on the top, and after a few seconds, I know it’s where we’re headed. Leif picks up the pace, and at this point I’m running to keep up. We kick off our shoes, leaving them where pavement meets sand, and rush the white ladder. He hoists me up and climbs up quickly himself, using every few rungs because his legs are so long. It’s unlockedbecause no one locks anything in Bronze Bay. That’s the best part of staying in this small-town bubble. I can pretend that life outside it doesn’t exist.
There’s an old lamp, a pair of binoculars, and a system that must be a radio for communication purposes. There’s also a small stool that swivels. We’re both eyeing that at the moment. We can hear the party raging on the other side of the tree line. I take a seat on the worn-out red stool. “So, you had to have me. Here I am,” I say.
Leif swallows hard, his neck working. “Malena,” he says, eyes darkening even further. A crease forms between his eyes as he appraises me.
I nod, waiting for him to make the first move. “Leif,” I toss back. “Mr. Andersson. My hero. The love of my life.” Smirking, I try to gauge his reaction to my words, but he’s a blank canvas. His chest works as he breathes heavily, and he runs both of his hands through his hair and down his face. Shaking his head, he grasps whatever resolve he’s searching for and confuses me even further. “Come here, Leif. Tell me what’s wrong.” I rise to my knees on the stool so I can reach around his neck instead of being eye level with his dick.
He obeys, letting me circle my arms around him. Leaning down, Leif inhales my hair. “I need you,” he says.
Looking up at him, I wrinkle my brow. “You have me.” No one else has ever had someone so completely in the history of time.
He shakes his head. I don’t have long to ponder what that means because he’s kissing me, his large hands stripping me down until there’s nothing left but skin. I help slide his shirt off, and he drops his shorts and steps out of them. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. There’s a desperation that I’ve never seen before. A wicked gleam of something sharp, painful. As he runshis hands down the sides of my body, I ask, “What’s wrong, Leif? Talk to me. I can tell something is off.”
He silences me with a kiss, tilting my head to the side and running his hands through my hair. Picking me up, he steps forward until my back is against the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the ocean. We’re like fish in a tank. Anyone looking up has a view of my ass. He enters me the next second, and I wouldn’t care if the whole world was watching. Crying out, I tuck my face into his neck and ride the thrusts as he pumps, hard juts, as deep as my body will allow him. “You’re mine,” he says, teeth grating along my shoulder. “Always.”
The act of forming coherent words isn’t something I’m capable of when Leif is this wild with lust, or I’d confirm his sentiment. My skin makes squeaking noises as he fucks me against the clean glass. His grip is firm on the sides of my thighs as he uses that as leverage. The noise intensifies as he brings both of us closer to orgasm. My stomach tightens, and my arms feel limp as the pressure at my core builds to a fever pitch. We come at the same time, him letting out an exasperated sigh as I sink down on his shaft when his grip loosens a bit with his release.
The high is always intense after we make love, my body craving his touch, his warmth, all of him. “I love you,” I say, tracing the edge of his ear with my lips. “That was amazing. It’s always amazing with you.”
He breathes heavily in favor of replying. He needs a few moments to collect himself. Almost as if his brain needs to switch from one mode to another. He lets me drop to the ground, disconnecting our bodies as he goes. My back is sweaty and has left an imprint on the glass, a lovely heart shape where my ass was just pounded. “Malena,” Leif rasps. Different this time than when we first began this tryst.
“Look at me,” I order, placing my hands on each of his shoulders. “You have me.” I reach between my legs and draw my hand back when it’s coated with his seed. I hold it up. “Yours,” I say, wiggling my fingers. “Always yours. Why are you acting like I’m going somewhere?”
Then it hits me. This has nothing to do with me going anywhere. My stomach sinks and my legs shake a bit. A little from my intense orgasm, but mostly from the knowledge that he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Bad news. It’s something I can sniff out. “Spit it out,” I prompt.
He finally lets his gaze flick up to meet mine. It’s pained. “I’m leaving, Malena,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t be upset because this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. I’m going to get the bastard this time. But that means I have to leave you. Here. For a long time.”
I stutter, try to begin a sentence, but close my mouth and think for a few more beats. “This is your home,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You said you weren’t moving away from here.”
