Control (Songs of Submission #4) (19 page)

BOOK: Control (Songs of Submission #4)

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The cab pulled into the driveway in a flash of headlights.

“I’ll send him back.” Jonathan swung his legs straight.

I unwrapped myself from the blanket and stood. “No, I’m going. What we have is not what I want. It’s too much. I’ve never met a man like you, and god willing, I never will again because I don’t think I could take it. I already can’t imagine myself with anyone else.”

He looked at me. “You’re not leaving, Monica.” He took my hands. His were cold, and the temptation to warm them between mine was unbearable.

I said, “I wanted you to know, before I go, that I love you. I thought I didn’t want to love anyone again, and maybe I didn’t. I mean, look what it comes with, right? The more I fell in love with you, the harder it got to leave you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

When he stood, he seemed taller, closer, more solid. “You’re not going.”

“I am.”

“No. Don’t you see how perfect we are? What you’re breaking isn’t some little, meaningless coupling. We aren’t some casual fuck, and we never were. Not from the first night. Not from the first time I laid eyes on you. You were built for me. I denied it as long as I could, but we were meant to be together. You are the sea under my sky. We’re bound at the horizon.”

“Please don’t make this worse.” My voice cracked. I sniffled. God. Damn. Those fucking tears.

He stood and put his arms around me, engulfing me. How he fit. How his touch felt perfect on me. How I wanted him as he kissed my cheek and neck and breathed my name. “Don’t go,” he said softly. “I want you, little goddess. Always. Please. Tell me what you want. Tell me what I have to do.”

The cab driver honked.

“Let me go, Jonathan.”

“No.”

I pushed him away with all the force I had, and still he held me. “Let me
go
.”

He squeezed me harder. “We’re not finished.”

I wanted to fall into him, to acquiesce completely. Giving in to his embrace and his touch, letting him take me upstairs would have been so easy. That night would have been beautiful and tender, but what about the next day, and the next week, and the next month?

When I pushed him away again, he released me. I stepped back, almost falling. He held his hand out to help me, but I avoided him.

“Good-bye. I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be sorry.” He stood straight, his chin proud and his shoulders relaxed. “This isn’t over.”

I wanted to tell him I loved him again, but it would have done more harm than good. I ran down the steps. The cab was about to leave without me, but I grabbed the door handle and opened it. The driver stopped, and I got in.

With one last glance back, I saw Jonathan backlit on that magnificent porch, standing as if he had complete control of the situation, every inch a king.