My eyes traced the lining of his full lips; the ends of his perfect, pearly white teeth barely showed. My eyes slowly made their way up to the dent on his top lip, up to the tip of nose, to his cheeks, and then to those gorgeous big, brown eyes. He was watching me watch him. I lost air for a second as he brought his chin out, his lips inches away from me. “Marcus,” I whispered in a way to stop him, but I didn’t pull away.
“Please, Mia.” Closing his eyes, he pressed his soft lips against mine. A tingling sensation shot through my core at his touch, and it warmed as he slipped his tongue through my parted lips. I closed my eyes to savor this too. Oh, how I’d missed those lips, that soft stroking tongue, and his greedy kisses. I brought my hands around his neck and pulled his kiss in deeper. His small, gentle groan vibrated against my lips. His hand quickly left my back, and he reached in his pocket, all while never moving his lips away from mine.
An alarm beeping sound went off, and then I heard his car doors unlock. In a swift movement he opened the door, leaning me against the open space. Not second guessing, I bent down into his backseat, pulling him on top of me. On his way in, he shut the door, only taking his lips away from me for a mere second.
He returned his mouth to my face, spreading gentle stroking kisses along my eyebrows, my eyes, my nose, down the side of my cheek, and my jawline. When he reached my lips again, he mumbled in between breaths, pulling away gently to list everything he’d missed. “I love you so much … I’ve missed you so much, Mia … I miss your scent … your lips … your touch … the way your hair falls against your face … the way you smile … I’ve missed you so fucking much … especially,” pulling away for a second, he cupped my face with his hand, and narrowly stared into my eyes saying, “those eyes, those beautiful eyes. I’ve missed looking into them every morning when I wake up and every night before I fall asleep. I have done nothing the past two weeks but dream of your eyes.”
I closed my eyes as a single tear escaped and rolled down the side of my face. His thumb wiped it away before he continued to place several gentle pecks against my lips. On the last peck, he kept his lips firm against my mouth, and his tongue once again found mine, twirling in delicious delight. I knew I had to stop, to not lead him on and let him think that we were okay because we weren’t. But his words, his touch, and his lips momentarily persuaded me to cave in, to briefly break down that wall I slowly began to build once again.
I told myself over and over again in my head as he slowly slid his hand up my shirt that this was what we needed … that we both needed to comfort each other … that we needed this last goodbye … we needed closure.
I moaned against his lips when his hand reached my aching breast. Neither one of us was able to hold it any longer: we quickly ripped our clothes off, and he sank into me relieving the pain in my inner thighs. My body trembled as I felt the fullness, the hardness. I realized that I needed this, that I needed him at this very moment. “Mia ...” He groaned, dipping his head into my neck, leaving feather-like kisses along my collarbone.
“I love you.” He choked in pain as he continued in soft, gentle thrusts, joining our hips. My entire body ached with longing for him, wanting him, and I eagerly wrapped my legs around his hips pushing him in deeper. “Oh Marcus, I’ve missed you so much … I love you.” I moaned into his earlobe. My confession ignited him, and he picked up pace. Crushing his lips to mine, his tongue reached far back into my mouth, and I sucked on it, craving his taste.
Our bodies, damp with sweat, trembled with the sensation, trying to hold on to every peaking moment. Eventually we both gave in, allowing our bodies to release the aching tension. Breathing heavily, he lay flat on my chest.
I stared at the roof of his car, trying to control my breathing as well. What the hell did I just do?
I began to squirm underneath him, and he sat back on the heels of his feet, watching as I sought to find my clothes and throw them on. “Mia, what are you doing? I thought we …” I stopped half way through putting my shirt on and turned to look into his puzzled eyes. I led him on: He didn’t think of this as a goodbye; he thought of this as rekindling our relationship.
Biting my lip, I slowly rolled the shirt down. “Marcus, I’m sorry for leading you on.”
His head snapped back. “Leading me on? What do you mean leading me on?” He brought his fingers to the middle of his stomach. I didn’t say anything since I was afraid to say the wrong thing. He gulped in a mouthful of air when he finally realized what I meant. He tilted his head, and his shoulders slumped. “But you said you missed me too. You said you loved me!”
Shifting and lifting my legs, I sat as he was facing him. “Marcus, I love you so much. I will always love you … and yes, I’ve missed you … I will always miss you … but too much has happened to go back to the way we were … don’t you see that?”
With his head still tilted and his hand still at the pit of his stomach, his chest heaved in and out, and his growing painful expression felt like a knife just stabbed my heart. “And this? What was this!” he snapped, his hand leaving his belly, sprawling along the seat where we just made love.
My heartbeat began to speed up at the tone of his voice. He was beginning to get angry. I didn’t blame him; it was wrong of me to make him believe for one second that we were back together. Slightly shrugging my shoulders, I looked down ashamed. “It was for comfort, I guess, closure.”
“Really?” With his jaw clenched tight, he quickly grabbed his shirt and tossed it on, not caring that it was inside out. Straightening his legs to the floor of the car, he adjusted his jeans. Once they were secured at his waist, he zippered and buttoned them. Opening the door beside him, he glared at me. “Well, I hope you got your fucking … closure.” The door slammed shut after he stepped out. Startled by the loud noise, I quickly stormed out of the car.
He was walking down the parking lot at a fast pace. I had to jog to catch up to him. Where was he going? It was his car we were just in. When I was finally close enough, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Marcus, please don’t walk away—talk to me.”
He stopped, turned, and looked down at me. “Why? What’s the point! If I poured my heart out to you at this moment, would it make a difference? Will it change your mind? Will you take me back?”
I wanted to, but I couldn’t. “No.”