There’s heat behind her eyes while she watches me discard my shirt on the floor before bending to my knees to taste more of her.
Her body hums against me as I move my mouth along her stomach, up her ribcage, then my hands slide underneath the fabric of my shirt she’s wearing, pushing it up over her breasts.
I take one of her taut nipples between my teeth and bite down just hard enough that she arches her back. She moans, the sound an achy whimper when my hand reaches between her thighs, to find that she’s completely soaked through. “Birth control?” I ask, highly doubting there are condoms in the bathroom.
“IUD,” she replies, peeling off her shirt.
I wiggle myself out of my pants as she reaches for me, tugging at the fabric of my boxer briefs, pushing them down until I’ve sprung free.
“Come here,” she begs, her eyes darkened with need.
I settle between her legs, waiting for her reassurance before I slip inside her. I go slow, my body moving in even, gentle strokes. This isn’t something to be rushed, but an experience to be savored. But unlike seeing bioluminescence in Puerto Rico, or the aurora borealis in Iceland, or volcanic lightning in Guatemala, I know that nothing will ever compare.
We work together as she matches me, rhythm for rhythm, pressure building inside me. I can’t let go, not yet, not until I hear that coarse sound escape from her lips, the one that lets me know that she’s gotten what she needs. I’m on the edge, my head buried in her neck, when she cradles my face in her hands.
“Hudson.”
She says my name as if it’s sacred, her body pulsing beneath mine.
“Say it again,” she demands as I let go.
“I love you,” I breathe against her skin, into her hair, over her body. “I love you. I love you.”
Each time I say it, the tension in her body releases, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes while she grinds against me, nails digging into my shoulder blades as if she needs to be embedded in my skin.
I don’t care that she doesn’t say it back. She doesn’t have to. Because I’ll love her regardless. Whether it’s a night, or a year, or a lifetime, I’ll love her for as long as she lets me.
33 Mira
I wake up to the weight of Hudson’s arm draped over me, the tickle of his beard against my neck, and theI love youI never expected still wrapped around me like a warm hug.
I should have said it back. I wanted to. But there is still a remnant of fear lingering in my chest. To let someone in, to trust completely, is harder than I thought it would be, since the last time someone made promises to me they turned out to be hollow.
Rolling over, I check my phone and remember the email. The one still waiting for me in my inbox.
“Mmm,” Hudson groans, sleepily kissing my shoulder as his hold against my stomach tightens, pulling me back to bed. His mouth moves against my bare skin, planting light kisses along my collarbone, my neck, but when he moves to my lips, I hold up a hand in protest.
“I need to brush my teeth.”
“You don’t need to move from this bed,” he says, pushing my hand away and kissing me for real.
As much as I want to lie here and let him have me, I only have an hour to get my gear together, and head to Meredith’s to start the getting-ready photos.
“I have to go to work,” I reason, before I see the bruises on Hudson’s fingers and the memory of last night hits me like a gutpunch. In college, Meredith always said that she’d want the truth no matter how bad it hurt. That she’d rather face a problem than tiptoe around it, and I know that I can’t let her walk down that aisle without making her own decision, even if it’s to my detriment.
“I have to tell her,” I say, hoping that Hudson might talk me out of it. That he will offer me an alternative solution. But he nods in understanding.
“We can tell her together,” he says, threading his hand through mine, bringing my knuckles to his lips. And the sincerity in his eyes makes me want to shout:I love you too.
“I’ll back you up. Whatever you need.”
My heart leaps at the idea of having him by my side for all the hard moments in my life. And although I’m grateful for his support, I know that this is something I need to do by myself.
“I think it might be better coming from me.”
“Are you sure?”
I give him a soft kiss and slip out of bed. I take a long, hot shower, my first of the trip, and put on my own clothes—a pair of black jeans and an oversized black button-down—and head over to Meredith’s cabin.
