“Ahh,” I moan as Jake tilts his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside of me.
“You’re gonna come for me,” he breathes over my skin. “Right here in the Pacific Ocean. You’re gonna scream my name as I bring you to orgasm.” He licks my lower lip, then plunges his tongue deep into my mouth with each hard thrust into me.
His movements increase in tempo, and I hold on tight to him, fingernails digging into his skin, the wash of the salty water slick between us.
“I’ll never get enough of you, Tru. Never,” he growls into my ear, hitting me with hard, sure thrusts, penetrating me deep inside.
And he makes sure he doesn’t as he continues to make love to me in the swell of the Pacific Ocean, while the sun descends, making its effortless journey behind the water.
Dusk has settled, and Jake and I lie together in the four-poster bed of our villa.
It’s a tasteful, modest villa. Not flashy. It’s us.
The whole place is open, each room flowing into the other. It has a free feeling about it. The type of freedom Jake isn’t usually granted.
I wonder if that’s one of the reasons he chose this place for us.
The bedroom is light and airy, the bedsheets a clean, crisp white. Even though it’s a haven many celebrities choose for a getaway, it’s not overdone. It’s understated.
It’s perfect.
The sheets are kicked back because of the insane evening heat. Our legs are tangled together, our bodies touching, sticky from the sea salt and sand coating our skin. I’m draped across Jake’s chest as he absentmindedly plays with my tangled hair, quietly humming a song.
I listen intently as he starts to softly sing the words.
He sounds beautiful. I love listening to Jake sing. Especially a cappella.
“What song are you singing?” I ask, lifting my head.
“Our song.”
“I didn’t know we had one.” I smile. Jake and I have lots of songs that remind us of our childhood, but none that are just him and me, that symbolise us as a couple.
“It’s called ‘You Started,’ by Ou Est Le Swimming Pool.” At my puzzled expression, he says, “You never heard it before?”
I shake my head.
“And you call yourself a musical journalist.” He clicks his tongue in mock reproof. “They were a band from the UK as well. Poor showing on your part, baby.”
“Shut up.” I stick my tongue out at him.
He catches it lightning quick between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle tug before letting go.
“So why is it our song?” I rest my chin on his chest.
“Because it’s us,” he replies simply.
“Okay…,” I say, needing more. “And just when did you decide it was our song?”
I see a flash of pain cross his face. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
“The first time I heard it was the day after you left me in Boston.” With his words comes a fierce pain in my chest as I remember our time apart. “I was in the car with Denny. He’d forced me out of my hotel room to get some food, and he had the album playing in his car. When I heard the song, it was just like listening to the story of us, Tru.” He focuses his gaze in on me, staring deep into my eyes like no one else can. “If I didn’t already know at that point that I had to win you back, then that song made me realise even more that I…” He pauses, blowing out a breath.
“Realise what?” I urge.
“That I had to fight for you. That I had to do whatever it took to get you back. Even if it meant playing dirty.” He runs his rough fingertips down my cheek. “There is no one else for me. I begin and end with you.”
Reaching for my hand, he lifts it to his and places them palm to palm.
“Can I hear it?” I ask, feeling choked up. “Do you have it?”
“It’s on my phone. It’s your ringtone, in fact,” he adds, reaching for it.
“How do I not know that?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Because when you ring me, you’re usually elsewhere.” He gives me a dumb face.
“You’re such an idiot,” I say with a laugh, shoving him in the chest.
Chuckling, Jake presses a button on the screen of his phone and sets it down on his chest between us. A few seconds later, I hear light synth piano keys start to play.
The sound fills our villa. The only other sounds are the washing waves outside and the thudding of my aching heart.
The singer begins, and goose bumps shiver down my arms as I listen intently to every word. Hanging on them. Then it hits the chorus, and I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes.
I know exactly what Jake is saying. It is us. Him. Me. Everything. The good, and the bad.
The second chorus breaks, and violins strum in the background, setting the tears to spill over and run down my cheeks.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Jake says, soothing me, brushing away my tears with his fingers.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s stunning. And it’s us, completely. You’re right.”
“You did…start my life,” Jake says, referring to the song title, pushing his fingers into my hair, cupping my cheek.
“And you mine,” I utter, climbing on top of him. I crush my lips to his.
His hand goes to the back of my neck, holding me to him as his tongue gently strokes over mine. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, exhaling a gentle breath over me. “You don’t complete me, Tru. You make me who I am. You make me better. I’d be nothing without you. Nothing. I’ve been there once before, and I’m never going back. I’m never losing you again.”