A Notion of Love (10 page)

“Holy…shit,” he pronounced against my neck, and the giggles I'd felt building in my chest came rolling out.

“You can say that again,” I whispered back once I'd caught my breath. I loved how he hadn't left my body since we'd begun making love. Even in stillness he was filling me up, and I loved it. Tingling, jolting aftershocks of the force of our lovemaking kept rippling through me. He ran a hand down my side, coming to rest on my hip. He kissed my cheek, then traced the spot with the tip of his tongue. He whispered, his lips against my temple, “God, you're so soft, Jilly.”

I shivered and giggled more, and then asked, only half-teasing, “Doesn't your hard-on ever go away?”

He laughed as though in surprise, and then heartily, tickling my skin. He finally said, “Fuck, it's been so long since I've made love that I think I'll be hard until sunrise.”

“Mmmmm,” I responded, pulling his face back to mine, possessively. I kissed him open-mouthed and he shuddered again and cupped my ass with both hands, drawing me solidly against his body. I gasped a little and knew I would be sore later today, but I didn't give a fuck. I craved it. I wanted to feel him inside of me even after he'd gone home and this moment was just a memory.

Much later, probably just a half hour from the sun cresting the far shore, Justin cuddled me on his chest and breathed against my hair. He murmured, “You smell so good.”

“Like fresh fried fish?” I murmured, and he laughed, a rumble that vibrated through his chest.

“You know how long I've wanted to make love to you?” he asked, low, and then kissed my hair. “You drive me crazy, Jillian, and you smell fucking amazing.”

“Such a sweet talker,” I added, thrilled at his words, my cheek pressed to his chest, loving the feel of his hands as they stroked along my spine, like he was playing a harpsichord.

My eyes could barely stay open and the parts of me not glued to him were freezing, but I hated to move before forced. Although, shit, the womenfolk would be heading to the café shortly to get the first coffee going. What a sight we'd make down here in our nakedness. Gran would probably call out some heartfelt congratulations. Dodge would surely give his son the hiding we'd talked about once, long ago in another life, in Justin's truck.

“We better get moving,” I said sleepily, at long last and with terrible reluctance.

He kissed my forehead, then tipped my chin and looked intently at me.

“God, you've got the most beautiful eyes, Jilly,” he said, and my heart melted.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” I whispered back and pulled his lips to mine.

Both of us grew instantly aroused, but this wasn't the time. With a shaky breath I made myself pull away and said again, “We gotta move.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though his voice was pained. He drew me to my feet and we hurried into our clothes, probably covered in bug bites. No, surely covered. My ankles were itching even as I thought about it. The air was rapidly becoming silver now, objects taking on depth and texture. Suddenly I didn't want daylight to arrive. I feared that what we'd shared would suddenly evaporate with the dawn, like a midnight spell. I threw my arms around him once more and held tight, and he drew in a deep breath and held me just as fiercely. Against my temple he whispered, “Thank you, Jillian.”

***

Later, in
my own bed, I considered those words. When I thought about what we'd spent the better part of the night doing, my stomach soared and my heart pitched against my chest, over and over. I hugged myself around the middle and tipped my head against my forearms, drowning in my feelings. I was indeed sore, but it had been so magnificent. So incredibly worth it. The best sex of my life, if I wanted to be honest about it. And not just because it had been too long. Justin had discovered an untouched spot in my soul, one I hadn't realized was there. But what, exactly, had he meant by ‘thank you'?

I fell asleep with this sobering, unresolved question in my mind. By the time I woke again it was nearly eleven and I knew I had to hustle to get ready in time for lunch. I showered, though reluctantly, as Justin's scent was still clinging to my body. Had he stopped out with Dodge for coffee this morning, like usual? My belly fluttered again at the thought but I was disappointed I may have missed him. Surely had, by now, since he started his day at the filling station by nine.

I jogged over the lake path, my heart and feet both light, a smile lingering on my lips despite the slight twinges of pain I was experiencing below, a reaction to the wealth of sex after years of none. Gran would guess in an instant if I wasn't careful. Inside Mom was talking to Rich at one of the booths, both of them holding their coffee mugs, while Blythe was brushing down the grill in the kitchen. I waved to everyone and found my own cup on the shelf, filled it to the brim. Ellen popped her head around from the bar to say good morning; no one seemed inclined to question why I was so late and obviously just out of bed, so my stomach relaxed a little. I found myself scanning the parking lot for signs of Justin's silver truck, even though there was no way he'd be out here before evening, if then. Would he call? Should I call him? I wanted to hear his voice. My heart gained momentum just thinking about it. If I was honest, I didn't want to just talk to him. I felt like a dam that had burst open and was currently flooding its gates. I almost giggled at the thought.

“Hey, Jills,” said Bly from behind me. “Morning. You want a couple eggs or anything?”

He had to tip his head to look at me through the server window, he was so tall. Again my mind was overwhelmed with a startlingly vivid image of him and my sister locked in an embrace much like the many I'd been in last night.
Damn, that was irritating
. I would really have to keep an eye on this potential situation that I had not seen coming; Jo was in no position to be falling for this guy, as much as I truly liked him the more I got to know him. And of course he was hot as hell. But he had to be off limits to her. He was so young, and not planning to stick around Landon, and he would hurt her, inevitably. Then I would have to track him down and kill him. But again I couldn't shake the sense that he was on a collision course with her.

He lifted his eyebrows at me in a teasing way and cupped both hands around his mouth, saying, “Earth to Jillian. Breakfast?”

I blinked and refocused on him; I'd been staring into the middle distance like a crazy woman. I said, “Sorry, late night. No, thanks though.”

“All right,” he said agreeably, shaking his head at me. I had the feeling he thought I was a little nuts, but in an affectionate way. Affectionately nutty. Again I giggled, thinking if this kept up I would have to slap myself. I hated gigglers.

“Jillian, can you grab the bleach bucket for me?” Ellen called from the bar then, and it was off to the races for another day.

***

By evening
Justin hadn't appeared at Shore Leave, nor called. I was flustered and irritable, and when I mixed up an order (which I never, ever did), I knew I had to find him. I rolled silverware with my fingers flying, deciding what to do and how to do it…should I call? Driving to his house seemed too desperate somehow, but I was this close to desperate anyway. I just wanted to see him. No, I wanted to see him and then jump into his arms and tell him I was in love with him.
Dammit, Jillian. Dammit
.

I was alone on the porch, sitting at a four-top, when his truck suddenly came bumping into the parking lot and I dropped the trio of silverware I was holding, my heart reacting like a trip wire that had just been sprung. I watched, my breath caught inside my chest, as he parked in his usual place, climbed down from the cab and started for the café. Not seeing me yet, I observed him and felt my heart sinking; he looked upset. Worse, he looked resigned. His hands were in his pockets, his chin tipped down, the last rays of sun slanting over his black hair and broad shoulders and long legs in faded jeans. He should have been running, skipping, leaping…like I'd been restraining myself from doing all day.

Before he got another step closer I got to my feet and made my way down the porch steps, untying my apron and pitching it over the railing. In jean shorts and a pale-yellow tank top, my cheeks hot with what was perhaps becoming anger, I stopped him in his tracks with just a look. He saw me and his feet stalled. I watched him swallow and his eyes grow even darker with longing. I knew it, but then he steeled himself; I saw that too. He said, his voice husky, “You look beautiful, Jill.”

Instead of saying ‘thank you,' I asked, “But?” I didn't allow the tremble in my throat to come out with that word.

“Walk with me,” he said.

We walked along Flicker Trail in silence until the café fell away behind us. He might have been a million miles away from me, and dread was pushing into my chest. That, and anger. Just as I was about to let loose he said, quietly, “I just want you to know you don't owe me anything, Jills.”

I stopped and studied the ground at my feet, feeling like I could hit him. Like crying. Like screaming at him for doing this, for acting like me choosing to make mind-blowing, earth-shattering love with him was something I'd done out of pity. I was too riled up to reply, and he went on, “I just don't want you to feel like…like you have to…” And then he sighed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him cup his forehead with one hand.

I asked, this time the tremble in my voice overt, despite my best efforts, “Is that what you think?”

Silence.

I went on, facing him now, my voice rising in both volume and pitch, “You think I did what we did last night out of the
goodness of my heart?!
”

“That's not what I mean,” he said, sounding like there was a husk in his throat. “Last night was incredible. The best night I've ever had.”

“Me too,” I told him, staring up into his dark, tortured eyes, thinking,
Take me in your arms, Justin, just do it. Don't be like this
.

His eyes were begging me to understand. He said, again his voice low and hoarse, “But I think we made a mistake.”

He might as well have slapped me. I stared up at him, furious and so hurt, even if there was a part of me that understood exactly what he was doing. I glared at him then, his dark eyes and black hair, his long lashes and lips that I wanted everywhere on my skin, his livid scars.

Though I didn't truly think it was about her, I heard myself ask, my voice clearly shaking now, “This is about Aubrey, isn't it?”

His face jerked backward, as though I'd slapped him. There was true surprise in his voice as he said, “Of course not.” He looked at me intently, as though to read my thoughts, and added softly, “I just…I don't expect—”

But I was not about to hear it. I shoved aside the hand he reached toward me, my heart thrashing my ribs. I said, “If that's what you think then
fuck
you
!”I was even more furious that my voice didn't emerge as the angry shriek I had intended.

I whirled away from him and headed back to the café at a fast walk.

He called, “
Jilly!
” but I didn't look back, knowing that if I disappeared inside he wouldn't dare follow and make a scene in front of everyone. Once in the parking lot though, I switched course and made for my apartment, knowing I was about to give into full-scale weeping and sure as hell didn't want to explain why to anyone.

***

I sobbed
for a long time, huddled around myself in my bed as the evening faded to night. My head ached, my thoughts snarling all over themselves, but it was nothing compared to my heart. I thought about Chris and what we'd had. I thought about how I hadn't actually made love since he'd died. That wasn't normal. That was insane. I'd wanted to but it had never been right. Not like last night. Last night I'd felt as though all of the unresolved parts of my soul were at last brought together. Justin was who I'd been waiting for. God, how could I have only just realized this?

I rolled to my other side, clutching myself around the middle. A part of me had always loved Justin, I knew that now. I traced back through my memories, combing and teasing out every last picture of him from the past. Our childhood and teenage years, our marriages to other people, and then he'd been in the accident and his scars had dominated his life. I thought about Aubrey leaving him and the way he'd basically shut down. In some ways, like I'd shut down after Chris. A question hit me like a ton of bricks: did he still long for that bitch; did he still love her?

Last night, I realized that I had fallen in love with him somewhere back along the years. I hugged myself harder and remembered last night and knew he was trying to protect me by pushing me away. He was afraid because of his face, his scars, trying to reconcile his bitterness with the strength of his feelings. He was terrified of being hurt, and even if he wouldn't admit it, this was about Aubrey, to some extent. She had left him vulnerable, which I understood as I lay in my bed vacillating between fury, hurt, and bouts of philosophy, understanding his motives but wanting to shove him in the chest because of it. And, dammit, because I had been longing all day to make love with him. I had thought about it every other second, and my body was aching for goddamn Justin Miller right now. With a soft moan I flopped to my other side and pressed my face into the pillow, slipping a hand over my belly and touching myself lightly, still feeling him within me. There were burns on my neck and breasts from his stubble, pale-blue bruising on my hips from his fingers. But these were the marks of intensity, and I only knew I wanted more, and then more of him.

Joelle would be here soon, and I comforted myself with this knowledge. I wouldn't tell her about Justin. Not yet. Everything was too raw. And it wasn't over - I
knew
that. I clung to this truth for even deeper comfort. I had to be patient, I had to wait for him to find the courage to tell me how he felt. In the meantime I would act as though everything was fine.