Page 58 of Every Time We Touch

“This pain is real for him, too.” Jen’s grip on my hands tightens, as though she wants to make me feel some of Eric’s pain. “And then there’s the rest of my family.”

What I want to say is that Jen should talk to them sooner rather than later as well, but I already pushed her to tell Eric and I’m not sure she can handle more grief from her family. Even though it’s still the only way forward and, ultimately, out of this.

“You’re right that I can’t promise how your father will deal with this in the long run.” I will have to talk to Eric myself, now that he knows. I won’t let all of this fall only on Jen’s shoulders.

We are silent because there’s not much we can say. We just sit together, absorbing the shock waves of what we’ve set in motion. It’s a far cry from the glorious climaxes that brought us here, but it’s also a part of it.

Of course, I fear that Jen might choose her family over me, after all. Now that she’s actually experiencing the consequences of our actions. But this is no time to show my anxiety about that. I need to be strong for her.

“Hey.” I sneak my hand up her wrist. “You want to dance?” It’s not the same for everyone, but dancing has never made me feel worse than I already did. And it will give me a chance to hold her close to me.

“Dance?” she scoffs. “Now?”

“Just a little slow dance.” I get up and hold out my hands to her. “You and me.” Because that’s what all this anguish is about, in the end. Jen and me together. I’m not naive enough to think we can dance our way out of this, but even a tiny bit of relief will do. A three-minute song to lose ourselves in. “Please?” I also know that I’m the cause of this. I knew who I was falling for and I let it happen anyway. I need to help her through this, and dancing is always the best way I know to get through anything.

“This is not the time for dancing,” Jen says, but takes my hands despite her words. “Dancing is what got us into trouble in the first place.”

“Come here,” I whisper as I draw her close. “Just for a minute. Let me hold you.”

I curl my arms around her neck and look into her beautiful eyes. She brings her arms to my waist. I don’t bother putting on any music—I don’t want to break this fragile hold we have on each other. Slowly, we sway to a beat that isn’t there, except, maybe, in our own battered hearts.

“Why should we get to enjoy ourselves while my dad is suffering?” Jen says while she moves with me.

I don’t have an answer to that because some questions are simply unanswerable. I pull her closer instead, but keep enough distance so we can still look into each other’s eyes—still feel this connection that brought us here.

From the very start, it was physical. Jen takes my breath away with her gorgeous, guarded face and the way it melts when she finally lets go. But this is more than wanting her. It’s the promise of us. Of what we could become if we’re brave enough to survive what getting there will cost us.

Her grasp on my waist grows tighter and the vibe in the room changes. For once, it’s not a sexual charge between us, but something else. Solace, perhaps. The comfort of being close to someone you care for. The simple but astounding power of just shuffling our feet together to music only we can hear.

I should probably never tell Jen this, but it was never like this with Eric. I liked him and I did see some potential in us as a couple for a while but, as I look deep into Jen’s eyes, I now realize that was only the wishful thinking that comes with dating someone new who ticks a few boxes. Jen does so much more to me than tick some boxes. Regardless of Eric being Jen’s father, I do have the luxury of being able to compare my feelings for them. It’s safety versus surrender. Affection versus passion. Companionship versus voracious hunger. Possibility versus complete inevitability.

“That did make me feel better,” Jen says as our feet come to a stop—you can’t dance to silent music forever. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I say. “For what you have to do for us.”

“I should call Heather,” she says.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“But first, I need to kiss you.” The small smile tugging at her lips makes my heart sing.

“That can be arranged.”

Before I get a chance to touch my lips to hers, she leans forward and finds my ear. “I’m also going to need you to fuck me completely senseless tonight,” she whispers.

This is also why I’m completely in love with her. Why it’s impossible to resist her. “That can definitely be arranged.”

I kiss her slowly. It’s not the frantic kind of kiss that leaves us breathless and tangled up in each other within seconds. It’s the kind where she chooses me all over again.

Then, I take her to bed.

Chapter 33

Jen

Clancy kissing me is the reason I want to forget about today—if only for a little while—and the only way for me to do that. She’s both cause and consequence and this thing has been a mind fuck from the very beginning but, in the end, it all, still, boils down to this need to be with her that I can’t ignore.

“Let me take care of you,” she says, her voice every bit as seductive as the rest of her. Those broad shoulders. That bottomless gaze. The way she moves, like now, when she steps back from me and sends me a smile that’s both reassuring and so sensual, my clit’s already throbbing between my legs.