Page 132 of Finding Storm

An absolute heartbeat. Christ, I’d be packed in under ten minutes and waiting at the door for him.

His fingers move over my face, the gentlest of touches, his eyes following his movements, like he’s memorizing it.

Maybe he is.

I know I’ve memorized every inch of him. Every moment we’ve spent together. And this moment … the sex we just had … the feel of him still inside me … the way I can feel his heart beating against mine … even the music playing in the background, which couldn’t be more fitting if I’d picked the song myself—Whitesnake’s “Is This Love.”

All of it is forever etched into my brain.

His fingers drift down my neck to the hollow of my throat. His hand slides behind my nape, fingers pushing into my hair. “Would you consider”—he pauses and swallows—“long-distance?” His eyes meet mine. “I’m just not ready … for this to be over yet.”

It’s my turn to swallow. My eyes start to burn.

Because I know my answer. Long-distance never works.

“I …”

“Don’t say long-distance doesn’t work,” he cuts me off, reading my damn mind, like he always does. “Because we’d make it work.”

“For how long? And then what? We’d both still live in different states.”

“You don’t know the future, Stevie. Things could change.”

“Are you planning on leaving your band at any point?”

His eyes hold mine. He shakes his head.

“And I’ll never leave here. It won’t be long before Gran is too old to do anything around here, and then I’ll take over the B&B fully. My life is here, Storm. God, do I want to say yes to long-distance and be with you for however long we can. Of course I do. But I also know we’d be delaying the inevitable. I know me, and I know I’d be unhappy because I wouldn’t be with you. I’d have half of you and even less of your time. And I don’t want to be unhappy. I want to be happy. Do I want a relationship with you? Yes. But I want a proper relationship. Not half of one. I’m sorry …”

“Don’t,” he stops me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Neither do you,” I tell him, knowing what he’s thinking. He blames himself because he’s the one leaving when the truth is, it’s neither of our faults.

It just fucking sucks. And I hate that it does.

I want him so badly, and I can’t have him.

Life is cruel sometimes.

He presses his forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. “I don’t want us to be over.”

Tears fill my eyes again. “I don’t either. But—”

“Don’t,” he stops me, closing his eyes. “Just … don’t say it. Please.”

I press my lips together, keeping in the truth we both know. A tear runs from the corner of my eye. Another quickly following, soaking into the pillow.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers.

His mouth moves down to mine, lips brushing lightly against mine.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Our hips are moving against each other. His cock, hard again, is slowly sliding in and out of me.

“I need to take this condom off. Get another,” he says, still kissing me. “But …”

“I’m on the pill,” I whisper.