- Post By: Jason Santo
- Date:
- Category: Uncategorized
“Let me love you,” she said.
Garret stood at the door to her bedroom, legs crossed, looking down as he pressed the heel of one shoe onto the toes of the other. She was naked before him, in his bed, the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. And he couldn’t raise his eyes to meet the heat of her gaze.
“Please,” she said and he heard the rustling of his sheets and comforter as they slid from her. Oh God, how he wanted to look.
“No,” he answered simply. She sighed, the sound a heart deflated makes after bring stabbed by truth; a sound he knew all too well from his own wounds.
“You won’t even look at me?” she asked. He shook his head.
“Garret, please. I love -” and he shouted at her now, a bark from his own dark frustration: “Don’t!”
He looked up, but disregarded her perfect nude form and instead held his focus on her dark brown eyes. Doe eyes, he had told her, but sometimes alight like hot coals, streaked with the ardor of her need.i
“You can’t say it. We can’t do this.”
It was all he could tell her, and now it was she that looked away. His dream girl shunned by his unwillingness to play along and share her.
“I’ve told you how connected we are,” she explained, a hitch in her voice. He wondered if she was acting or if she meant it. “I know you think I am stupid and weak for not leaving, but it’s not that simple…” She trailed off, looking out to the moonlight filled window. The cicada filled the humid summer night with their lust. He stepped toward his love and she looked upward from the inkwell black of the room and their sorrow. Bathed in moonglow, she was impossible to resist.
“I love you,” he told her. “And I will make love to you for hours tonight, but then you’ll go home. To him.”
She reached a hand to the side of his face, warm fingers sliding across the stubble of his jaw.
“For now,” she said. “But let’s start this and see where it can go.”
Garret then bent down and kissed the woman he’d always wanted. He decided only cowards turn away a chance at perfect love due to imperfect circumstance. It was time for courage, even if it made him a fool. Even if it made him a villain.
(at Chances)