Love Not at First Sight by Sarah Ready

11

Veronica

“Sam?”I cry out. He doesn’t answer. There’s nothing but the forbidding silence of the tunnel. “Sam!” Nothing. My heart jerks in my chest. “Answer me.” He doesn’t. I hit the watch light and the dim glow outlines his figure. My heart lurches and bile rises in my throat.

“Sam, move. Push.”

He doesn’t. He can’t.

His head lies at an awkward angle on the ground, his arms sprawl in front of him, his hands are open and still. He doesn’t move.

“Sam,” I shout. “Please.”

Nothing. My stomach turns and I fight down rising nausea. He’s stuck. He’s…suffocating?

“No. Sam. No.” I jerk myself across the ground, inching closer to him.

“Talk to me. Sam.” My hands reach his face. His skin is cool, I can’t feel his breath, he’s as still as the walls of this godforsaken cave. My hands shake, my heart thunders, I can’t hear, I can’t think.

“Sam? Move. Pull yourself through.” From somewhere outside me, I realize that I’m not thinking clearly. That he’s unconscious and can’t hear me. “Please. Please!”

My legs brush against his arms and they flop to the side, completely without the life or strength that I’m used to. He’s…he’s dead? Dying? The light of the watch goes out and we plunge into darkness. I can’t see him, I can’t hear him, he’s left me. He’s gone.

”Sam! Wake up. If you leave me in this cave I will kill you. Do you hear me? I will come after you, follow you in death and I will kill you. Do you hear me?”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no sound, and he doesn’t even twitch. Thirty seconds has passed since he told me to go. A sob escapes me and I shove it back down. I won’t cry. He’s not gone. I can fix this. How dare he tell me to go? We’re together. We’re in this together and I’m never going to leave him.

I love him.

I love him.

I realize that love hasn’t made me weak, it’s made me strong. I couldn’t have made it this far without him. He’s given me support and kindness, courage and friendship…I love him, I can’t…

“Please don’t leave me,” I say. “I need you. I need you here with me. We’re doing this together. We’re getting out of here together. Please, Sam. Please.”

Nothing. Just the stillness of the walls pressing the life from him.

“I’ll move in with you and help you remodel your house,” I promise him. “I’ll go with you to Italy. We’ll eat olives and drink wine. I’ll come with you to New York and meet your family and have your mom’s pasta. We’ll walk together. Remember? You promised me we’d walk together. I want to meet you. I want to meet you outside of this cave. Please, Sam. Please.”

I brace my feet against the walls. His ribs are jammed between the rock. He’s stuck tight and doesn’t even have enough room for breath. I have to get him out.

I wedge my feet against the edge of the walls, angle myself to give myself as much leverage as possible. Then I grasp him under his arms.

“Come on.” I pull on him. He’s at least one hundred and seventy-five pounds, tall and muscular. He’s not budging.

“Come on,” I cry. I push with my legs against the walls and yank as hard as I can. “Please, Sam. I love you. Please.”

Then all the love I feel for him, the desperation of him leaving me, it fills me and I push against the stone and yank as hard as I can. Suddenly, I’m falling backwards, because Sam has inched forward and cleared the rocks.

I cry out then grab him again. The tunnel widens ahead, at least to three feet in height. I pull him forward and over me. Then, I roll onto him and press into him. I squeeze over him and run my hands across him, try to hear a breath, find his heartbeat.

I can’t.

But then I feel the solid thud of his heart beneath my hand. Cold, stunned relief washes over me. Then his chest bows and he drags in a ragged gasping breath. His body tenses and he tries to sit up.

“I’m here,” I say. I push him back down to the ground. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

He pulls in raw, gasping breaths, his chest heaving. Then, “Veronica?”

“I’m here.” My voice is thick with tears. “I’m here.”

“I thought…” He draws in another breath.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I tell him.

His arms shake. Then he wraps them around me and presses me tightly to him. I concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest and the thundering of his heart.

“Never again,” I say. “Never again.”

He moves his hands over me, across my shoulders and back, down my hips and across my thighs. The movement of his hands on me feels like the warmth of the sun on a summer day. He’s here. He didn’t leave me.

I thread my fingers through his hair and lift his mouth to mine. I press my lips over his and take his mouth and his breath and I thank heaven that he still has breath to give.

“You were crying,” he says, surprised. I think he can taste the salt of tears on my mouth.

I press my forehead to his, rub my nose over his, and let my lips hover against his breath. He reaches up and presses his thumbs against my cheeks. He stiffens when he feels the wetness of my tears.

“Don’t cry,” he says.

Then he wipes his hands down my skin, drawing away the tears.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers again. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

He presses his lips to my cheeks and my eyelids, kissing away the fear. A small sob escapes me and he pulls me against his chest.

“We’re almost out of here. It’ll be alright.”

He runs his hands soothingly over my back.

“I’m alright. It’ll be alright,” he says.

“It’ll be alright,” I repeat. But I don’t know that I believe him. I don’t know that we’ll ever make it out of here, or that if we do, everything will be alright. We can’t know what’s going to happen. One minute, the person you love can be right next to you, then next minute they could be gone.

I settle into him. Safe in the cocoon of his arms, his breath rising and his heartbeat echoing mine. His hands lift up and tangle in my hair. Then his fingers drift down my face and his touch is gentle, soft, almost…reverent.

“Veronica?”

“Yes?”

He draws his fingers over my eyelids, my nose, my cheek, neck and collarbone. His touch sends shooting stars across my skin. I fall into the tinkling liquid warmth of his fingers running over me.

“I…I need you to know…I love you. More than anything in the world. If something happens again, I don’t want to leave this world without you knowing how I feel. I love you, more than any person has the right to love another. Especially since I’ve never seen your face, or gotten coffee with you, or taken you out on a date, I’ve not done any of the things a man does to show a woman he loves her. And you’ve not seen me, you don’t know what I look like, or who I am in the outside world, what I’m like. It’s selfish of me to say this, but I have to tell you. I love you. And I’m not asking you to love me back, I only want you to know that I love you. So much. We may not make it out of here, but I can’t be sorry about it, because being here means I got to meet you. And I’d rather die having these last four days with you than live another sixty years without.”

His hands linger over me and I press myself into him.

“Is that alright?” he asks.

And I warm at the worry in his voice. He’s afraid that I don’t feel the same way. But how can he even think that? I bury my face against his neck and press a kiss into his pulse. His muscles tense, like he’s waiting for me to deny him. But how could I?

“You think I haven’t seen you? That I don’t know what you’re like in the outside world?” I ask.

His fingers still on me and I continue.

“We’ve been in here for four days. And four days cave time is like four years outside world time.”

I brush my lips against his mouth.

“I see you,” I say. “I know you.”

I straddle his hips with my legs and lean over his face. I run my fingertips over his brow.

“You’re smart and driven. You care about making the world a better place.” I run my fingers over his eyebrows and then down his temples. “In the past, you trusted the wrong people and were hurt. Now, you don’t trust as easily, and you’re close to only a select few. But once you give your friendship, you’ll do anything for them.”

“That’s right,” he says.

I move my hands to his mouth and press them against the firm line of his lips. I run my fingers through the long stubble on his jaw and neck. His pulse picks up speed.

“You like family, and home, and quiet nights. You’re generous and strong.”

“Yes,” he says.

I lean down and press a kiss to his mouth. He doesn’t care about money or material things. In fact, it’s likely that he makes less per year than I do. And he’s not a player. He was faithful to his wife and then had a few rebound dates to get over her.

I pull my mouth from his. “You have plans for the future,” I continue. “And you never give up.”

I move my hands under his shirt and then run my fingers up the bare skin of his stomach and chest. I feel the hollow of his stomach, the flat muscles of his abdomen, his chest. I rest my hand over his heart.

“You are the best man I’ve ever known,” I tell him. “And I trust you with my life.”

I lift his shirt and then I pull it off him. He lets out a harsh breath.

“I know you,” I say.

“I love you,” he says.

I move to his shorts. Slowly pull them down his thighs. He kicks off his shoes. He’s naked beneath me.

“I see you,” I say.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice is raw and an echo of all the emotion I feel inside.

I run my hands over his body. Explore him. The warmth of the skin near his heart. The strength of his shoulders. The curve of his elbow. His hands, confident and strong, but gentle whenever they touch me. The carved muscles of his abdomen, the jut of his hip bones. A small jagged scar on his thigh. A dusting of hair, a soft tickling against my skin. I trail my hands over his thigh and then brush against his length. He jerks beneath me and his hips lift. I close my hand around him. Sam hisses and his fingers dig into my thighs.

I grip him in my hand, feel the softness and the heat, the hardness of him. I lean down and kiss the tip of him. He pulses in my hand and I feel an aching need in response.

Then I let him go, lay on him and move up to his mouth. I press my lips to his and taste him. Feel him under me. The rightness of us.

“I love you,” I whisper against him.

That’s all it takes. He rolls me under him, shoves my shirt over my head. I kick off my boots and he yanks my pants down.

I let out a harsh breath when he spreads his body over mine. I barely notice the cold or the hard rock beneath me. My entire being, all my senses, are engulfed by him. His legs over mine, his hips pressing against mine, his arms wrapped around me. The beating of his heart against my chest. He runs the stubble of his cheek against my face and I shiver. Then he catches my lips and sends his tongue into my mouth. I suck on it and taste him. The salty, minerally limestone of the water we drink and the maleness that is purely Sam. He moves his hips and runs his length over me. He hisses when he feels how wet I am. The tip of him hits my entrance, but he stops and slides over my clit. I cry out and raise my hips to him. He brings his mouth over mine, and as he runs his length over my clit, he sends his tongue in and out of my mouth. I’m drugged by the rhythm he’s making. I rise up to meet him and fall when he pulls away. He moves his hands over me, teases my breasts, circles my nipples. Everywhere he touches a spark lights, until I’m glowing, feeling so much fire that I’m surprised the tunnel isn’t burning with the light we’re making. He keeps running his length over me, spreading the heat through me. It builds, until the only thing I can concentrate on is the next time he’s going to hit me…there. I roll my hips and I want…I want him inside me more than anything. I want to be joined with him, to become…his.

He reaches up, draws his hands up my arms, my wrists, then he threads his fingers through mine.

“Hold my hand,” he says.

I clasp his hands and cry out when his length drives over my clit.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

Then he pauses at my entrance. I tilt my hips up, meet him there.

“I love you,” he says.

Then, he thrusts his hips and I cry out as he fills me.