What Endures (23 page)

“The Tylenol hasn’t kicked in yet huh?” he asked.

If she had a choice, she would have liked to have been able to disappear right then and there. Or if a hole were to open up right in the middle of the floor, she would have gladly thrown herself into it. But seeing as neither of those options were realistic, she forced herself to sit up and face him.

He was smiling at her gently. He didn’t seem at all hung-over, but then, if her patchy recollection was accurate, she had done most of the drinking last night. She didn’t really recall him drinking at all. She tried to search his features and body language for any clues but didn’t find any. But what was she supposed to find? Him wearing a sign declaring that they had slept together last night?

Still, she looked. He wasn’t acting like anything significant had happened last night. Surely he would be different if they had slept together? Then again, would he really? He didn’t remember their past and he wasn’t in love with her, so it may well have been just sex and nothing else. And in that case, he probably wouldn’t be acting any differently. She sighed, not liking that line of thought.

But at least she would feel different, wouldn’t she? If she had slept with Jason last night, wouldn’t her body feel different? Wouldn’t she somehow know? But considering how she was only aware of how awful her body felt, that wasn’t exactly an indicator of anything.

“Champagne doesn’t agree with you,” he said with a teasing smile.

“I usually don’t drink,” she said quietly, trying to figure out how she was going to ask him about last night, short of telling him she had forgotten. If they had slept together, it was going to be beyond awkward for her to admit that she didn’t remember it at all.

“I can tell,” he replied, swallowing the last of his protein shake and moving toward the sink to rinse out his glass before he placed it in the dishwasher.

“Um. . .you know, it’s really, uh, bright in here. Really bright in the living room too. It was a pain waking up in there.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmured.

She sighed softly. Clearly that was too subtle. She looked down at what she was wearing and tugged the collar gently. “This is your shirt.”

He looked at her, brows furrowed in confusion at her statement. “Yeah.”

She fought the urge to scream in frustration. This subtle approach left a lot to be desired. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”

His eyes narrowed but his expression remained unreadable. “You needed it.”

She tried not to look irritated. “Why?”

“Your clothes were wet.” He looked at her seriously. “Speaking of, I hope you didn’t really like that dress, because between the water and the sand, it’s pretty much ruined.”

She shook her head, trying to focus but the hangover was making it hard. Well, she remembered the water and taking off her dress, taking off everything actually. She didn’t, however, remember putting on his shirt.

She sighed. It was clear that he had caught on to what she was trying, very unsuccessfully, to do. “Last night. . .”

“Yes?” he prompted.

She drew in a deep breath.
Just out with it
. “Did we. . . .um. . .”

“Megan?” he asked gently.

“What?”

“You don’t remember what happened last night do you?”

Accident or no accident, Jason had always been perceptive, especially about people. Why she thought that she could fool him into telling her what had happened last night was beyond her. Honesty had always been the best approach with Jason. His highly tuned BS-detecting radar made anything else nearly impossible. “I remember. . .bits and pieces.”

To her surprise and annoyance, he laughed. She let her irritation creep into her voice. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just. . .” He stopped and shook his head. “I was just, uh, admiring the irony of the situation.”

Of all the words that she could think of to describe this situation, ‘admire’ was certainly not one of them. “What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I woke up from the coma, I’ve been the one who can’t remember things. Who has to rely on ‘bits and pieces’.” He looked at her and smiled wryly. “And now? Now, oddly, I’m the one who remembers things. Instead of me asking you what happened, you’re asking me. It’s ironic.”

He had a point. And if she weren’t hung-over and half-panicked, she’d probably have a good chuckle at the irony of it all, but she was hung-over and her half-panic state was quickly approaching full-on freaking out. So she didn’t have the time or energy to appreciate any ironies.

“So. . .last night. . .” she prompted. She cleared her throat nervously. “Did, um. . .we. . .” It was funny how a question could become harder to ask the more you had invested in the answer. “Uh, you and I. . .we. . .”

“We didn’t.”

She looked at him, startled. “W-we didn’t?”

“We didn’t.” He looked at her intently and she understood.

She expelled the breath that she hadn’t been aware that she was holding. She knew she should have been relieved at his answer, but what she was feeling was confusion. His answer just didn’t. . .fit. . .with what she was recalling. “We didn’t?” He shook his head. “B-but. . .the beach and we were kissing and m-my clothes. I’m not wearing, I-I mean I’m wearing your shirt from last night.  . .”

“Megan,” he cut in gently.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I remember us. . .” She stopped and cleared her throat as images of the two of them locked in a passionately intimate embrace danced through her head. “We were-“

“Megan,” he cut her off again. He sighed. “If I can, uh, use a crude metaphor from when I was a kid, you and I were, uh, rounding third and headed for home shall we say? We just didn’t make it to home plate.”

As crude as the metaphor may be, it was very effective. It certainly explained her recollections of last night. She and Jason, from what she could recall, were definitely ‘headed for home.’ But they hadn’t made it. “What happened?”

This is incredible
.

That was what his body was telling him. And the voice in his head, long silenced, could only agree.

Somehow, they had managed to end up on the blanket, at least partially. Megan was on top of him and alternately kissing and licking the pulsing vein in his neck. She was driving him crazy. One of her hands was working their way slowly down his chest, heading for the button and zipper of his pants.

He moaned. She felt so fucking good and this was. . .this was beyond his wildest imaginings. He didn't remember the last, or even first, time he had sex but this was beyond anything. His whole body was humming, desire pulsing through him and ending up in his crotch where he was so hard it was borderline painful. Megan kissed his nipple, then her tongue darted out and licked him. He groaned as his dick jerked in his pants. He reached down and pulled her head up to capture her lips in a hot, searing kiss, tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted incredible, her lips so soft and pliant.

He shifted, pushing her off of him and rolled over on her. He pushed his shirt aside, revealing her bare breasts and felt his breath catch. She was gorgeous. He couldn't help staring at the soft, round mounds, with the pert, pink nipples. He's seen naked women before, recently thanks to the Internet but this was even better. Megan's hand came down, grasping his, before she guided his hand to one of her breasts. He gasped at the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath his hand. He squeezed gently and felt her shudder beneath him. When his thumb brushed against her hardened nipple, she moaned, arching up against his hand.

He bent, kissing her breast which made her suck in her breath sharply. She groaned loudly, clutching his head when he took the nipple into his mouth, suckling it. He felt the throbbing in his dick grow even more intense at the feel of her in his mouth. He let his hand skim down her side, down the dip of her waist and then the rise of her hip.

He found her lips again, kissing her with fervor. She met each thrust of his tongue with an eager one of her own. He felt her hands slide down his bare chest, leaving a trail of white hot desire in its wake. When her fingers skimmed his erection underneath his pants, his body jerked.

“Jason,” she breathed.

He stopped suddenly. She was looking at him, her face flushed with desire. But that wasn’t what had stopped him dead in his tracks. It was the gentle pleading he had heard in her voice. That and the open vulnerability in her eyes.

This is wrong.

He swallowed, panting softly as he tried to figure out what was going on. What was this? His seemingly out-of-control libido was suddenly been replaced by something else. Something that made him slowly lift himself off of her.

“Jason?” she asked, confused.

He pushed himself into a kneeling position, trying not to wince when the movement caused his dick to push against his already too tight pants. “Megan, I. . “

“What?” She sat up, completely naked, and looked at him questioningly. The sight of her naked, in front of the still burning fire, made him realize that the desire he felt for her hadn’t been extinguished, it had only been superseded by another emotion. And the two conflicting with each other was more than he could bear.

He moved over to her and gently placed his shirt around her shoulders. She looked at him for a beat before she placed her arms through the sleeves and began to button the shirt up. When she was done, she looked back up at him and he was unprepared for the hurt and confusion in her eyes.

“Megan-“

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t-“

“No,” he cut in firmly. “You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, I do. You don’t want me. I. . .” Her voice faltered and she looked away.

“I don’t want you?” he repeated, incredulous. “Do you realize that I’m about a millisecond away from throwing myself into the freezing water ‘cause my body is still on fire from. . .” He made a vague gesture toward the rumpled blanket. “That’s how much I do want you.”

“Then. . .why. . .”

He sighed. “Because it doesn’t feel right.”

‘What?”

He got up, moving away from the heat of the fire. As the cool breeze whipped at his naked chest, he felt some of the raging desire inside of him slowly ebb away. Not much, but at least the ache was lessening. “I mean it’s great, and you’re beautiful and just now. . .it was incredible and I couldn’t want you more if I tried but this doesn’t feel right.” She said nothing, but he could see the confusion in her eyes. "I can’t take advantage of you like this.”

“You’re not,” she denied. “I said-“

“No regrets,” he cut in softly. He smiled. “I actually believe you. The thing is, you may not have any regrets, but I would.” She flinched, and he realized she had misunderstood. “I don’t mean about that. I wouldn’t regret being with you. I would regret how it came about.” He sighed and knelt back down in front of her. “You’re drunk. This whole night has been crazy and this is just pretend. We could pretend that it’s just for tonight but tomorrow. . ." He sighed. "We can’t pretend tomorrow.” He shook his head. “These aren’t the right circumstances. And things are already so complicated between us. We don’t need to make it more complicated.”

“It’s-“

“And I don’t want our first time, I mean you know the first time for us after everything, to be like this.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. I could actually be the stupidest guy alive right now because you're amazing, but it just doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry.”

She looked down at her hands for several beats before she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, still looking down at her hands. ‘Y-you’re right. We shouldn’t have. . .” She stopped and groaned, clutching her stomach. “And I think I’m going to be sick.”

“. . . .and after you stopped feeling nauseous, I helped you inside the house where you collapsed on the sofa in the living room. I went back out to put out the fire and get our things and when I came back in, you were fast asleep and I didn’t want to wake you so. . .”

She nodded, to show that she had followed along. His recollection of last night made sense, but she wasn’t sure how to react to it all. The hangover was dulling her senses and her ability to think clearly. She did, however, understand what Jason had done for her, for them, last night.

“So. . ." Jason began, looking at her uncertainly. "Are you upset? Angry? Hurt?”

“Why would you think I’d be any of those things?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t seem too happy about things last night and-“

“I was drunk,” she said softly. “I’m not upset or mad or anything. This is just. . .it's awkward.”

“Imagine how awkward it would be if we had.” She looked up at him, but he had looked away. He was right though. As uncomfortable as this was right now, if Jason hadn’t stopped things last night, she had a feeling things would have been exponentially more uncomfortable right now. He sighed and came around the counter, sitting down on the stool next to hers. “Look, Megan, nothing’s changed for me. Not really.”

“Nothing’s changed?” she asked, the doubt clear in her voice.

“Not for me,” he answered. “I came here to get to know you. To try and get my life back. To get some memories back. And that’s still true. Last night, we skipped some steps along the way.” He smirked. "Although technically, last night, I did get to know you better in some ways."

She shoved his shoulder. "My head still hurts. Don't make me kick your ass when I'm in pain."

He chuckled before looking at her seriously. “Look, I still want to get to know you. This past week with us living together, it’s been great. I’m not gonna pretend that I haven’t wanted to kiss you. I’m attracted to you. I think that’s pretty clear, but we should take it a little slower. I don’t want to jump into anything because I don’t want to miss out on anything else.” His green eyes sought and then held hers. “But I don’t want us to go back to being polite. Last night, you were really honest and open and it was great. You think maybe we can go slower than last night, but not quite start all over again? Maybe somewhere in the middle?”