MY FATE FOR YOURS

Chapter 16- RACHEL

Rachel

 We've driven in silence for most of the way. My heart feels like it's shoved in a vice, knowing this is the last bit of Eamon and me being together the way we want to be. And it's sort of bullshit because if he wasn't so chicken we wouldn't have to stop after one weekend. I open my mouth to bring it up, but I'm too scared of seeing that same petrified look on his face as he had when I told him I loved him. I'm not about to risk seeing that again.

The sun is long down when Eamon stops in my driveway. I'm too nervous to look at him as I climb out and walk to the back of the Jeep to get my stuff. Afraid he'll look fine about saying goodbye, afraid he won't look fine about it but will act like it. Though, it's not really fair that the only reaction I want from him right now is for him to say he wants our weekend fun to continue because he can't imagine not having me.

He snatches my bags before I have a chance to pick them up. "I got it. I'll walk you in."

"Mama's probably asleep," I whisper. I step up to the door and push it open, the quietness carrying a feeling of finality to it that I'm not ready for.

He sets my "doctor case" down first and kicks off his shoes. "This goes to your room, right?"

I search his face for a sign of anything, but he seems totally normal and relaxed. "I can get it."

A corner of his mouth pulls up. "I know you can, Rach. But so can I."

One thing I'll say about Eamon is the boy's got manners. His mama wouldn't think twice before smacking the back of his head to make sure he did.

I slide off my shoes and tiptoe through the small living room and into my room. I'm at the opposite side of the house as Mom, which works for both of us. At least there's a little privacy.

Eamon follows me into my room and sets my bag down. "I'm not ready for our weekend to be over." His brow is pulled down and his voice is rough. His expression is that of someone begging, but he doesn't need to be.

A surge of hope expands in my chest as I step close to him, the warmth of his body now so familiar, wraps around me. His lips touch mine so softly that the feeling of it whispers through me instead of hitting in the hard rush that's been part of him until now.

Our kisses are slow, deep, like we have nowhere to be but with each other. Eamon slides my shirt over my head and runs his fingertips over my shoulders, across my back, across my collarbone, before unclasping my bra and letting it fall.

He exhales and takes his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. We stare at each other in the dim light coming through my blinds. I trace patterns on Eamon's chest until his hands cover mine, and his mouth covers mine. Still soft. Still urgent. Still melting me in a way I've never experienced.

He slides my cut-offs and panties down, and I do the same for him. We kiss, still standing for a moment until Eamon lies us both down.

He reaches behind him and fumbles in his shorts' pocket before pulling out a condom and tosses it on the bed.

He pushes me gently back and starts slowly tracing every inch of me, with his hands, fingers and lips. I guess if this is the last bit of Eamon LeJeune I'll ever get, it's worth it.

When he finally slides into me, it's slow, deliberate. We take our time, and I start to think that maybe we can make this work. Maybe Eamon's not ready to let go either. He tangles us together and we both drift off, me feeling more full and satisfied and in love than I've ever felt.

***

I pull my brows together and cringe. The light coming in through my blinds is too much. Too early. I roll over to bury my face in Eamon's chest, but he's gone. I slide my hands over my sheets as if he'll suddenly appear because I want him to. But he doesn't, and I know exactly what happened.