Time stood still. I could feel the thud of my heartbeat, heavy and insistent, as she leaned up, her lips brushing mine softly at first, a question, a plea.
And then she kissed me again, harder, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her desperation was palpable, a storm crashing through her, and I was caught in its wake, powerless to resist.
“Antonia ...” Her name came out as a rasp, half a plea, half a warning, but she silenced me with her mouth, her lips insistent, bruising. Her body pressed against mine, warm and trembling, her need igniting something fierce and primal inside me.
“Please, Weston. Help me forget.”
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the padded bench, never breaking the kiss. Her fingers slid under my shirt, her touch hot and urgent, her nails dragging across my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
She needed this—needed me. And I was powerless to deny her.
I laid her down, my body pressing against hers, fitting perfectly, like she’d been made for me. Her back arched, a breathless moan escaping her lips as I kissed my way down her neck, tasting the salt of her tears. Her skin was soft, electric. Every touch, every movement a spark that threatened to consume us both.
Her fingers gripped my shoulders, holding on like she was afraid to let go. Her hips moved against mine, a desperate rhythm that shattered my restraint. I groaned, my mouth finding hers again, our kisses fierce and consuming, tongues tangling as we lost ourselves in each other.
She was fire and need, raw and beautiful in her vulnerability, and I wanted to give her everything, to take away her pain, even if only for a moment.
Our clothes fell away, piece by piece, barriers dissolving as skin met skin, hot and slick. Her body arched beneath mine, her breath ragged, her eyes locked on mine, pleading, needing.
I whispered her name, my voice breaking, my hands caressing every curve, every hollow, memorizing the feel of her, the taste of her. She responded with a fierceness that took my breath away, her body moving with mine, meeting every thrust, every touch with an intensity that left me reeling.
We moved together, a perfect, desperate rhythm, her nails digging into my back, her cries muffled against my shoulder. She shattered in my arms, her body trembling, her name a broken whisper on my lips as I followed her over the edge.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing, our hearts pounding in sync, our bodies tangled together. I held her close, my fingers brushing through her hair, whispering words of comfort, of promise.
She buried her face in my neck, her tears dampening my skin as she clung to me, her body shaking with silent sobs. I tightened my hold, vowing to never let go, to be her anchor, her safe place. I could never replace Miriam, but I could be Antonia’s next person.
I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her swollen lips, whispering her name like a prayer. “I’ve got you, Antonia. I’m not going anywhere.”
She sighed, her body softening against mine, her fingers tracing circles on my chest. “I need to go.” Antonia moved away and walked across my gym. As much as I wanted to watch her every move, I didn’t because I needed to brace myself for what she would tell me next.Reluctantly, I turned to face her. She was focused on putting the rest of her clothes on.
“Antonia?” Her name came from my lips softly and probably with a hint of desperation.
“I’m sorry, Weston.”
I nodded and looked at the ground. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m a big boy. I knew the consequences.”
Unable to continue to sit there, I stood and grabbed my shorts off the floor. I slipped them on and went to the refrigerator, then grabbed two bottles of water. I took one over to Antonia and then retreated to my corner, giving her space.
She wiped at the tears that still fell. As much as I wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t. I didn’t think my heart could take the rejection. At least not today. Today, she had been through the wringer, being there for a friend’s last life celebration, and now this. From the day I saw Antonia across the court, I’d wanted to be with her. Now that I had, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted her. I’d known it from the first time I saw her.
I should’ve said no because she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Because her need for me was out of grief. Having sex with her was a way of helping her forget her pain and not remembering me.
I should’ve said no.
“Did you drive down?”
“No, I walked,” she said as she shook her head.
“I’ll drive you back.”
“That’s not necessary.”
I finished the bottle of water and crushed the thin plastic into a ball. “It’s not safe at night,” I told her. “The kids drive up and down the road at high rates of speed, and there isn’t anywhere to step off the side of the road.”
She looked at me, and I hoped she understood the message—the kids had already lost their mom; they couldn’t lose her too.
Antonia finally nodded. “Thank you.”
