Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton

Nash doesn’t let me bring him to a release. After exploring him with my mouth for a few minutes, he abruptly pulls me off him and turns the both of us, caging me in with his body.

“I need to be inside you, Rose. At this point I’ll fucking beg if I need to.” He runs his hard length against me, eliciting a moan from my lips.

Grabbing his face by both sides, I look him dead in the eye, hoping he sees my heart with my next words. “I want this as bad as you do, Nash. Maybe even more.”

My eyes travel over every slope and plane of his face. His straight nose, the cleft above his lip, the slant of his dark eyebrows. I try to capture every single detail of this moment. The vulnerability being my favorite part of it all, but also the part that hurts me the most. I want him to know that at the end of this, when he’ll most likely hate me, that I really did end up wanting him just as bad, that the feelings he pulled from me were raw and real. And completely unexpected.

He sighs, the air tickling my neck. “I don’t see how it could possibly be more. I’ve never wanted something as bad as I want you.” It feels like he wants to say something else, but I’ll never know what that is because before he can say anything else, he sheathes himself into a condom before pushing inside me and then, we both get lost in the feeling.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, his head falling against my shoulder. “You feel too damn good.”

My legs fall open, letting him even deeper inside me. Grabbing my hip, he thrusts in while his fingertips dig into my skin. I want him to leave marks, to wake up tomorrow and have a reminder of how real this moment was.

Picking up speed, Nash brings his body down, bringing his lips to mine. My hands trace over the tense muscles of his back, feeling the strain in them each time he pushes inside me. His hip bones get more and more punishing as he picks up speed. Water is still dripping from his hair, the cold droplets landing on my shoulder.

“Nash,” I breathe, my next words falling flat as he pulls his hips all the back before slowly sliding back in. The move is taunting, making my back arch. I try to swivel my hips to get him to pick up the pace, but it only ends up earning me a cocky smile from him.

“Patience, Nora,” he rasps. “I’m not done fucking you yet.”

A loud moan escapes my lips. He swallows my next one, our tongues moving in and out as our hips do the same. My senses are on overdrive—the feeling of him inside me and the pressure of his fingertips searing into my skin, branding me forever. When his lips leave mine, I’m disappointed until I feel his hot breath up against the shell of my ear. Nipping at my earlobe, a low growl leaves his chest.

My fingernails bite into his back as his teeth nip at the tender skin on my neck. He bites and then sucks, his tongue taking the pain from his teeth away. I know for a fact that tomorrow I will wake up with marks across my neck from him, but I don’t care in the slightest. I want to wake up and have proof that tonight happened. That if only for a fleeting moment, I was Nash’s—and he was mine.

Nash keeps the rhythm achingly slow, and no matter how hard I try to create more friction, he refuses to go any faster.

My eyes drift open, finding Nash’s eyes already on me. The moonlight drifts in through the small windows, allowing just enough light in to see the shadows across his face. His eyelids lower as he slowly pushes all the way in.

“I love watching you come apart, Rose.” His hand leaves its place on my hip, slowly traveling up my body until his fingers thread in the wet strands of my hair. He gently pulls at the hair, angling my face up so I stare at him once again.

All too quickly, I’m close to another orgasm. Nash increases the speed of his hips and it’s too much. I can feel the pressure building in my abdomen.

“Come apart for me,” Nash instructs. The muscles in his back begin to tighten as another orgasm rips through me. I’m still riding the waves from my climax when Nash has his own. His moan alone has me turned on all over again.

It’s silent in the bus as we catch our breaths. Part of me is dreading the next part, expecting him to pull out and move on with the night. My preconceived notions of him get the best of me. I’m proven once again that Nash isn’t who he’s made out to be. He shocks me by pulling me to his chest seconds after he pulls out of me.

Burrowing his head into my neck, he takes a deep inhale. “Fuck, Rose. That was…” It’s silent as I wait for him to finish his sentence. “That was everything,” he finally says, making my heart skip a beat.

One of my hands comes up to find his head. Holding him against my neck, I relish in the moment we’re having. Sex with Nash is phenomenal, but it’s the cuddling afterward that has me feeling things I have no right to feel.

For the next few hours, we have sex on and off, neither of us able to keep our hands off the other for very long. It’s evident that Nash knows his way around the female body, bringing my body to more orgasms in a narrow timespan than I thought possible. The moments with him buried inside me make me feel a passion I didn’t know existed. I’ve never felt so physically in sync with a person like I do with Nash. It’s hard to put into words. It’s hard to imagine that these moments might only be fleeting—temporary.

Cuddled against Nash, my head resting on his chest and my fingertips tracing his tattoos, it’s hard to remind myself that one day he could hate me. With every breath I take, I hold in the desperate want to admit to the scheme that got me here in the first place. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too scared.

I’m scared to lose the moment we’re in. I’m scared to see him put a fence back around his heart and soul. I’m just now getting to really know him—fall for him—and I don’t want to lose the look of affection in his eyes when they land on me.

My heart constricts when I think about all the lies I’ve told him. All the ways those closest to him have deceived him. I need to come clean to him, because I want the truth to come from my lips and nobody else’s, but first I want more time with him.

“Tell me a secret, Rose.” His lips move against my temple, his breath warm against my skin.

I’m going to break your heartis what comes to mind, but I push it away, not ready to admit my betrayal yet.

“You make me feel safe,” I confess. Something I didn’t realize I’ve been desperately chasing for years.

The finger that was playing with my hair stills briefly. “What does that mean?”

Unwanted memories flash through my mind, just as vivid as the day they happened. I try to clear my head by leaning in, giving him a soft kiss on the piano tattooed on his chest. “It means you make me feel safe,” I repeat, apparently not ready to divulge any of my secrets to him tonight.

“What do I have to do to get inside that pretty head of yours?” Shifting in the bed, he brings us face to face, a finger tapping me on the temple.

“I don’t remember that being part of our agreement when I told you I’d make you fall in love with music again,” I tease, moving the hair off his forehead.

“Well, I’m making an amendment.”

“Too late. Now you tell me a secret,” I say, smiling when he rolls his eyes.

His gaze travels to where my hand is resting on his chest, the beat of his heart drumming against my palm. “It’s working,” he says quietly.

“What is?”

Grabbing me by the hips, he rolls us until he’s placing me on top of him. My thighs rest on either side of his body in a straddle. Bracing myself, my hands fall to his chest.

He tucks my hair behind my ear. “You. You’re working. You’re making me see the magic in my life again.”

Why does he have to go and say things to make me want him even more?

My throat begins to constrict. I try to swallow the emotion, not trying to tip him off to the sinking feeling in my chest. “Yeah?” I ask hoarsely, unable to come up with any other words.

“I haven’t felt this content with life in a very long time,” he admits, a shy smile on his face. “You know the other day I realized that I haven’t been drunk in weeks? I’ve had drinks, sure, but I haven’t been piss drunk for a while. And it’s because of you.”

Don’t tell me that, I plead silently. Don’t stop your bad habits because of me, Nash.

All I want is for him to stop feeling the need to get drunk to survive his days, but I don’t want to be the reason for it; there is fear when I remind myself our goodbye is inevitable.

“All I’ve done is show you how talented you are, and how valued you are by so many people. You haven’t been drunk because you haven’t wanted or needed to be. That’s not because of me.”

A crease forms on his forehead as he thinks my words through. “Maybe, but you’ve still helped me see what I’ve been taking for granted for too long. So, your promise to make me fall in love with music again? It’s working.”

Smiling, I lean down to kiss him. “Watch out, you’re feeding my ego. I might get a little cocky.”

“Absolutely not,” he whispers, stealing my next breath with his lips.

Our bodies become intertwined once again, and each time I learn more and more about how talented he really is, those fingers that expertly work guitar strings each night plucking so much pleasure and emotion out of me.

I fall asleep next to Nash at an all-time high. I’m happy, my feelings growing tenfold for him overnight between the joining of our bodies and the hushed confessions of the night.

It’s perfect.