You, Me, and Forever (Blushing)

I’d dated Phillip Moon all through high school and then again after I’d graduated from college. I’d dated Brad Smith during college for a few years. Those were the two steady relationships that I’d had to date.

And I’d been having what I could only define as a long-lasting fling with Myles St. James over the last few months.

I’d had two long-term relationships in my life.

And I’d had one fling.

I didn’t differentiate between the two types of relationships based on feelings or intensity. I defined them strictly by the basic guidelines I’d always followed. A relationship was when two people were dating and had hopes of lasting forever.

Yet neither of my previous relationships had gone the distance.

A fling was when two people enjoyed one another’s company, or could also just enjoy some sexy time together, with no intention of it going anywhere.

This fling had been a complete surprise.

And what I hadn’t expected was for the fling to be the most intimate relationship I’d had to date.

I’d never felt this strongly about another person in my life.

This comfortable. This connected. This cherished.

It was confusing, and I didn’t understand what was happening between us, but I was terrified to question it.

The fire roared in front of us as I straddled him on the couch and my favorite Noah Kahan song played through the surround sound speakers. His eyes never left mine as I rode him slowly. We weren’t speaking or laughing or teasing one another. His hands were interlaced with mine, and I wanted to memorize every inch of his handsome face.

I arched my back and slid up. Over and over again.

My body so tuned to his it moved of its own volition.

I love you.

I wanted to say the words, but I was afraid to say them aloud.

Myles St. James was not supposed to be the love of my life.

Yet I’d never loved anyone more.

And loving a man I knew would never reciprocate those feelings felt like a cruel joke the universe was playing on me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice gruff. “I love watching the way you take me all the way in, Montana. Like you were fucking made to ride my cock.”

I was.

His hand moved between us, knowing just what I needed.

My body responded immediately.

His eyes telling me exactly how he felt about me.

I moved faster.

I started to shake as a groan escaped my lips.

He tangled his hand in my hair and tugged me down, kissing me hard as I went right over the edge.

I cried out his name just as a guttural sound left his throat.

“I love fucking you, Montana Kingsley,” he whispered against my ear.

I love you, too, Myles St. James.

He thrust one more time, and that’s all it took as he followed me into oblivion.

And in a perfect world, we’d stay here forever.

“Do you not cook often?” I asked as I held a hand beneath the spoon when he wanted to sample the sauce I was making.

“Not really. I have a chef at home who prepares my meals for me. I grew up with a chef at our home. And I never guessed this to be enjoyable.” He leaned down and tasted the sauce. “Damn, that’s good. You make being in the kitchen much better than I thought possible.”

I reached up and used the pad of my thumb to swipe the sauce from his cheek. “Cooking is relaxing to me.” I stirred the sauce one more time before setting the spoon down and turning back toward the island, where we’d pulled everything out of the refrigerator to make a salad.

Country music swooned in the background, and Myles looked adorably handsome the way he stood there watching me, like I was performing life-saving surgery instead of making penne pasta with tomato sauce.

“I’m feeling relaxed too.” He handed me a glass of wine. “So now we make the salad?”

I chuckled. “Now we make the salad.”

I had already cleaned all the veggies, and I handed him a knife and told him to start chopping the tomatoes and the cucumbers.

He took his job very seriously, meticulously cutting them into tiny cubes.

I tore apart the lettuce before placing it in the bowl, and he scooped up his pile of vegetables and tossed them in as well.

I was about to make a quick vinaigrette dressing when he startled me by pulling me against his chest, wrapping one hand around my waist and one around my neck. We swayed to the sweet sounds of Noah Kahan, and it was surprisingly romantic. The fire crackled in the family room, and we just moved to the beat of the music.

It was simple. It was intimate. It was romantic.

I breathed him in, wishing this trip would never come to an end.

Wishing my time with him would never come to an end.

When the song changed, I pulled back and smiled up at him. “I’ll make the dressing; you check on the garlic bread.”

It was our last night in Banff, and we’d spent another day exploring this gorgeous place, having lots of sex, and eating the best food. We window-shopped, walked through an art gallery, and caught the tail end of a local band playing downtown while we sipped a glass of wine.

This was my new favorite kind of vacation.

We took our time chatting as we ate dinner, and I was trying hard not to focus on the fact that we were heading home tomorrow. Which meant this was almost over.

We were almost over.

We cleaned up our dinner dishes and decided to go soak in the hot tub.

Myles chuckled when he came walking back in the house after getting the fire going outside. “Why are you wearing a bathing suit?”

“I thought you said we were going in the hot tub?”

“We are. But no one is out here, so I’m not wearing a bathing suit.”

I raised a brow, strutting past him in my white bikini and his oversize white robe. “Well, maybe I’ll let you take it off once we’re outside.”

“Such a tease. Go get in the water, and I’ll grab us each a glass of wine.”

The outdoor fire was beautiful against the dark sky. It looked so pretty with the mountains in the distance and the moon overhead.

I set the robe down and slipped one leg at a time into the hot water. I tipped my head up to look at the stars. It was so peaceful out here. The tall trees swayed in the breeze as I sank into the hot water and groaned.

“I see you’re still wearing your bathing suit.” His voice was sultry and smooth as I turned to look at him.

Myles St. James was stark naked, holding two glasses of wine in his hands.

He was muscular and toned, and my eyes trailed down his distinct six-pack to see his erection standing straight up, per usual. He strode toward me with so much confidence as his long legs and thick thighs closed the distance between us.

“Wow. Are you always this . . . excited, or are you just happy to see me?” My eyes zoomed in on his erection.

“It’s all you, baby. Just the thought of you out here in the hot tub has me hard as a fucking rock.” He handed me the glass, and I set it on the patio beside us next to his.

“I can see that.”

He slipped into the water, making all sorts of ridiculous noises about it being too hot, until he was submerged with me. I stayed on the other side across from him. I reached for my wine and took a sip as my gaze locked with his.

“Are you going to stay over there and play hard to get?” he asked.

“I never seem to be able to stay over here if you’re over there, do I?”

He reached for his glass, taking a sip of chardonnay before setting it back down. His eyes never left mine.

“It’s been that way with us from the first day we met, hasn’t it?” he asked.

“I think you’re right.” I pushed to stand, my body only submerged from the waist down now. I reached for the tie on my bikini top at the back of my neck and pulled it slowly as it came apart. And then I reached behind my back and untied the other bow, tossing the top to the side.

His tongue swiped out along his bottom lip as he watched me. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

“You think so?” I whispered teasingly as I reached for my glass and walked toward him slowly.

His eyes were on my breasts when I stopped in front of him. He ran his hands down my back gently, and his touch had me arching toward him. He took the glass from my hand, and he caught me off guard when he tipped it forward, drizzling the white wine down my chest. He leaned down and licked a path over where the wine had just dripped. And then he did it to the other breast. My fingers were in his hair as my breaths came fast.

“Look at me.” His voice was deep and gruff.

I lifted my head, and he held the glass to my lips, and I took a sip of wine before he did the same.

He set the glass down, and his hands moved to my hips, where he untied both of the bows of my bathing suit before he pulled the bottoms away and tossed them on the patio.

He tugged my mouth down to his and kissed me. I thought he’d position me above him, but he didn’t. Instead he cradled me against his body and just kissed me. For the longest time.

I could feel his desire thick and hard against my hip, but he still didn’t make a move to have sex.

When he finally pulled back, he wrapped his arms around me, settling his chin on my shoulder and hugging me tight.

“I thought you wanted hot tub sex,” I said with a laugh as I tipped my head back.

“So did I. But I just want to hold you right now.”

My breath caught in my throat.

We sat in silence.

Emotion thick and impossible to miss.

“I never expected things to go this far, Montana,” he whispered.

I processed his words. “Well, it was my first fling. So I probably messed it up for us.”

He chuckled against my ear, kissing my cheek. “You messed it up by simply existing. By just being you. You’re impossible to stay away from.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve made things hard for you.”

I turned in his arms to face him, one leg falling on each side of his thighs as I straddled him. “I wouldn’t do anything differently if I could go back. And yes, it’s going to hurt when you leave. But we’ll be okay, right? I think I read in a magazine once that it takes twice as long to get over someone as the time you spent with them. So, by my calculations, I won’t even be thinking about you in six months.”

“Six months?” he asked. “That’s half a fucking year.”

“I don’t know if it’s true. I mean, I don’t ever think about Phillip, and I dated him for years. So, by the same calculations, I should be in my late forties before I forget him, and that is definitely not happening.” I laughed.

“So what happens after I leave? You seriously don’t want to just see one another a few times a year? I don’t understand why we can’t keep in touch.”

I rolled my eyes. “Myles, that makes no sense. I don’t date for the sake of dating. And how can I have a meaningful relationship with another man if I keep a side fling going long distance with you? I’m not built that way. I can’t fly into New York to attend a fancy party with you and spend a weekend in your bed and come back and return to my normal life.”

“Why? That sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic weekend to me.”noveldrama

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced a smile. I’d made a deal with myself that I would not fall apart in front of him. I’d save my tears for when I was alone after he left. “We want different things. I won’t move on and meet someone else if I’m talking to you. Because the truth is, no one compares to you, Myles St. James.”

“So let me get this straight. In order to be fair to your future loser boyfriend, you can’t talk to me because he would suck in comparison?”

“I mean, if you want to put it that way, you’re probably right,” I said. “But I’m hoping there’s someone out there that is as dazzling as you and also wants to be with me.”

His face startled at my words. “It’s not about me not wanting you, Montana. You know that, right?”

“I mean, at the end of the day, it kind of is.”

“I don’t live in Blushing, Alaska,” he said, his tone hard. “If I did, things would be different.”

But I didn’t believe that to be true, because he’d never suggested that I move to New York. Or that we try to figure something out. It was just known that it would end. That he’d given me more than he’d expected to give. More than he’d probably ever given another woman.

But he’d never considered asking me to come with him.

It wouldn’t be something I’d take lightly, as I had a business and a life in Blushing.

But I was in love with Myles, and if he asked me to move, I’d consider it.

I’d at least try to come up with a solution.

But all he was offering was a booty call once or twice a year.

And that would never be enough for me, even if it sounded tempting in the moment.

I wanted more.

“Myles, it’s okay that we’re different. You were honest from the start. You don’t want the same things that I do. You aren’t looking for a partner. You’re looking for a good time.” I shrugged. “And we’ve had a really good time.”

“You’re a lot more than just a good time.” His green gaze looked wounded.

I sighed. “So are you.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t continue to be friends at the very least,” he pressed.

Another lump formed in my throat so thick it made it difficult to swallow.

Just say it. Tell him the truth. What do you have to lose?

I looked up, placing one hand on each side of his face. My eyes were wet with emotion as I blinked a few times, trying to push the tears away.

“Because I love you, Myles St. James. I can’t be your friend, because it would never be enough for me. And it will hurt me too much to see you and not be with you. Because I love you.” My voice trembled as the words left my lips.

The look in his eyes caused the dam to break on my tears as they rolled down my cheeks. Because my words had clearly caused him pain.

He didn’t want me to love him.

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, and he had no argument now that I’d confessed how I really felt.

“Baby,” he whispered, burying his face in my neck. “You deserve so much more than me.”

I pulled back to look at him. “You don’t have to say that. You don’t have to say anything. I just need you to understand why I can’t do this halfway with you. Do you understand now?” My words broke on a full sob, and he searched my gaze as he swiped at the falling tears.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close again. He didn’t say a word.

He was deep in thought, and I could feel it.

This internal battle that lived inside him.

And we just sat there under the stars and the moon, wrapped around one another, wishing things could be different.