She stood in front of me with her head against my chest as we watched the sun rise from almost two thousand feet in the air. “This is so beautiful, Blake,” she said, and I could hear her holding back her sob. She inhaled deeply and tilted her face up, soaking in the morning light, her eyes closed.
“It reminds me of the day we met.”
She smiled, but kept her eyes closed.
“I remember you doing the same thing. Do you remember what you said?”
She nodded. “I said it was perfect, and you agreed.”
“Yeah. But I wasn’t looking at the sun rise, Chloe, I was looking at you.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Liar,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “It’s the truth.”
Tears instantly welled in her eyes.
She blinked.
They fell.
I wiped them away and inhaled a shaky breath. Then I let out the words I’d been holding on to for weeks. “I’ve fallen so hard in love with you, Chloe.”
She gasped, her eyes wide.
I continued, “And I don’t know how to express it. I don’t know what to do to show you how much I’ve come to love you.”
“You’re already doing it.”
She didn’t tell me she loved me back. But she kissed me in a way that reminded me that she didn’t need to say in words how she felt. I already knew.
After a while, she pulled back from the kiss, her tears still flowing.
“You okay?” I asked.
She laughed once, but it was sad. “It’s just moments like this—you make me not want to miss out on anything. You make me want to live forever, Blake.”
I’d walked her to her hotel room door and told her that I’d booked the room next door for the night. When she’d pouted and asked why, I’d told her that I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous in believing that we’d spend the night together, considering it was kind of our first date. She’d laughed but she hadn’t argued.
That was a half hour ago.
I opened the bathroom door after showering and heard a knock on the door. It was only eight in the morning, too early for housekeeping.
I smiled when I opened up and she was on the other side, her hair wet from her own shower. She wore the white Duke jersey, which reached midthigh. “I don’t like sleeping without you.” She exaggerated a pout.
I laughed and opened the door wider for her.
She waited until I was settled in bed before scooting in next to me and resting her head in the crook of my arm. “Thank you, Blake.”
“What for?”
“For giving me this night. For giving me this memory.”
Chloe
I leaned up on my elbow so I could look down on him.
He sighed and looked me right in the eyes. “Thank you for giving me you, Chloe.”
I moved in and kissed him, softly, gently, the way he always did with me. He moaned and positioned me until I was on top of him, straddling his waist. His hand flattened on my back as he sat us up, and drew me closer to him. Then his hands skimmed up my thighs, shifting my shirt up, and rested on my waist a moment before moving higher and higher. His kisses travelled lower and lower, down my collarbone and to my chest. The heat of his mouth warmed my skin. My hips pushed forward; my body arched, ready, waiting.
His hands drifted under my shirt and up my sides. He turned me onto my back and lifted my top over my head, all in one swift move. Leaning on his elbows and hovering above me, his eyes roamed my face and down to my chest. Then he descended, his mouth open against my nipple. My hands reached up, gripping his hair, holding him tighter against me. His palms flattened on my thighs, spreading my legs for him. We let out simultaneous moans when his hardness pressed into my center. His lips moved up again, tasting my mouth. His hand gripped my thigh, bringing it up and around him so he could get closer.
He started moving down my body again, his mouth now on my stomach as his fingers curled around the material of my sleep shorts and panties. His mouth moved lower, as did his hands, pulling both items of clothing down my legs and off my feet.
He stood at the end of the bed, his eyes burning with lust as he took in my bare-naked form. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
He crawled back onto the bed, removing his shirt. He positioned himself between my legs, taking my mouth with his. We started moving, thrusting into each other. I wanted to feel him. All of him. Everywhere. On me. Inside me. My fingers trailed down his back. My hands raised and pushed against his chest. I rolled us over so he was underneath me.
And then it was my turn to taste him.
His neck. His chest. Every single dip of his abs. That perfect vee. I pulled on his boxers, freeing him. “Chloe,” he breathed. It was a question. An answer. I hovered on all fours above him.
“Chloe.” It was almost a warning. A plea.
I moved down and kissed him with everything I had, like my life depended on it. I laid my chest flat against his. “Make love to me, Blake.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes closed and his jaw tense.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He rolled us until I was under him and kissed my neck up to my ear. “I love you so much, Chloe.”
And then he moved.
And so did I.
And we were there.
Loving each other.
In this room.
In the middle of a road trip.
On an experience of our lifetimes.
And a journey toward my death.
If he felt my tears, he never mentioned it.