This chapter is mainly romantic stuff so if it's not your thing you can wait for the next chapter. A lot of it is dealing with what's in the past, resolving certain issues, so they can go forward without these things between them.
They headed up to their room, Connie carrying her shoes, Jason holding his jacket and tie and the things he'd received at the party. Inside the room, he set them on the dresser. She threw her shoes onto the floor; she didn't even want to look at those horrible things.
"How are your feet doing?" he said.
"Much better. Thank you."
"How is the rest of you?"
"Just tired. But that was fun. I shouldn't have been so nervous about it."
From the dresser, she picked up the medallion that the prince had given Jason. Flipped it over in her palm. It was rather heavy for its size. "Do you think this is real gold?"
"I think so."
She picked up the black box. It was square, nothing on it except a small dial. "I wonder what could be in here."
"Dad will probably tell us once he opens it. Unless it's so secret we can't even know it….But then, the Agency goes a bit overboard in the secrecy department."
She set the box back down on the dresser. Suddenly she was aware of how near he was, as if electricity thrummed between them. She stepped back. After the closeness she'd felt at the party, why did she feel the distance again like a tangible thing, pressing them apart even as longing drew her to him?
Jason hung up his jacket in the closet. He looked great in the white shirt, contrasting against his tanned skin. A memory of their kisses in the limo flashed in front of her. She wanted more of them. She wanted more of him.
But—perhaps that was enough for now. Even though this night had erased most of her fears, she didn't want to go past her comfort zone and revert to how she had been. Something might trigger a reaction that would make her retreat from him. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to wreck the progress they'd made.
It was different at the celebration—she'd been swept up in the dazzle of it all, like a fairytale. But now reality burned vivid, like a too-sharp photograph.
"It is late," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "We'd better get to bed."
She stood, frozen. Tingles flickered over her skin.
"You look dead tired. Would you like me to help you with your dress?"
She nodded. He stepped behind her, unzipped the back of her dress. His fingers brushed her skin, wildfires erupting at his touch.
"Thanks," she said, not moving otherwise. He stood in front of her again, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt till it hung open, revealing his sculpted chest. She made herself move, walking over to her suitcase and kneeling to get out her pajamas.
She looked back at him. He was sliding the shirt off of his shoulders. Suddenly she wished she were the one to do it.
Leaving the pajamas sprawled half out of the suitcase, she stepped over to him and he met her in the middle of the room. "This day has been wonderful," she said. "But the only thing that matters is that I'm with you. Not even this can compare with that." She touched the smooth surface of the sapphire at her chest. "I want us to go back to how we were before—everything, but I don't know how. I can't imagine how I even wanted any kind of distance between us. Even the distance we still have—it—it hurts, Jason."
He drew her to him, tears tumbling onto her cheeks. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair like he had when she was nearly catatonic with grief. How he'd taken care of her! He always would. But how could he trust her after what she'd done?
"Jason—I love you. I'm so sorry."
"Connie, my love. You don't have anything to be sorry about."
"What I did—how I treated you—"
"What happened—it was awful. I wanted to do all I could to help you get through it. But you just had to go through that journey on your own."
"I should've gone toward you, not away from you!"
"We're back together now. That's what matters."
She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's just that—I'm afraid that I can't control how I react and I—do something else to hurt you. I can't stand doing that. I can't lose you again."
"I don't want to do something that might hurt you, either. Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong, and what I can do that's right. I—don't want to do anything to push you away, even by accident."
"You did everything right. It's me I can't trust." She sat down onto the bed and leaned her forehead in both her hands. The ache of what she'd done cut through her; she didn't know if she could tell him, but she couldn't keep going the way it was.
He sat down beside her, laid a hand on her back.
"The last time we—I mean, the last time we almost—um—" To talk about this kind of thing was hard enough, but to tell him of that... "I was still not recovered. It might have seemed like it, but I was still only thinking about myself, my own feelings. I—needed something to erase the pain and…pleasure was the only thing strong enough, I thought. I wanted you, not for you, but for—the feelings you could give me. Almost like you could've been anyone, except I knew you were the best and—"She shook her head, filled with disgust. "We shouldn't have even gone that far with me thinking like that. I'm so sorry."
He withdrew his hand, looking as if he was in shock. It served her right; how could he think of her in the same way? "That's okay. You weren't exactly yourself."
"You should hate me."
"Connie, I love you. I know you love me. All that's part of the past."
"But it affects now. There are other things. It's hard to put them into words, even know what exactly they are."
"Last time I pushed too far; I was just so excited to be close to you again."
"I don't want to be that fragile. From now on, I'll tell you what's too far. Okay? I don't want anything between us. I've got to be strong for you, as you are for me."
"After what happened, every moment with you, with your love, is heaven. I can't get enough—but it's always enough, every movement, every look—how beautiful you are." He touched her chin gently. Kissed her forehead.
She smiled, almost yielded. But then she pulled back a little. "I've been so selfish, I—" Her voice caught. Tears hovered in her eyes again. "It hurt so much, I never thought to ask what you wanted. But—" Pain built up in her heart—she wasn't recovered by a longshot, but she had to push through it—"if you want another baby, we can try. I can be extra careful, get checkups, we can—" She blinked back tears. One escaped, sliding down her cheek. She hoped he didn't take it as a sign to hold back his own thoughts. "We could do this, if you wanted."
He hesitated for a moment, his hands clasped. Then he said, "I do want a baby. But only if that's what you want. We're in this together."
She wiped her tear, needing to be over this brokenness, for him. She searched herself honestly despite the ache in her heart and found the answer, which surprised her. "I do want a baby too…someday."
"Whenever you're ready." A smile practically burst across his face. She wished she'd told him sooner; she wanted to give him all the happiness in the world. After all her wondering what she could do for him, the thing that she had wanted to keep for herself the most was what he needed. And she'd found out she wasn't so wounded she could never consider getting pregnant again. Though she didn't want to think too much about it too much, if something so horrible happened next time, she would try to keep her heart open to him, not closed.
"And we could adopt, too," he said.
"Yes, we could!" She hadn't thought of that. "There are so many kids that need a home."
He nodded. "But first, we have to make sure we have a strong foundation for them to join us."
"We need to get back to how we were. Somehow."
"I think we're well on our way there. What happened—it didn't break us. We have a lot going for us already. We can build on it, and it will get stronger, because our love—it's the kind that lasts." He laid his hand over hers, lingering there for a moment before he stood and grabbed his nightshirt off of the bed.
She swept to her feet, her heart pounding, and grabbed his hand. He looked at her questioningly.
"I think—" she said, her throat tightening, "we should continue what we started in the limo."
"I thought you were tired."
She smiled. "Not anymore." Their conversation had broken through barriers—she wasn't sure how much, but she could feel it. She didn't want to waste any time not as close to him as she could possibly be.
"Oh." He just stood there.
"Are you tired?" she said.
"No." He stepped toward her, dropping the shirt to the floor. Delicately, he laid his hand on her face, catching her eyes before kissing her lips. She savored the gentle pressure of his lips on hers, searching for a rhythm with him like an unfamiliar dance.
He pulled back. Even that much absence was excruciating, as if she were missing an essential part of her soul.
He slid one hand into her hair, tenderly fingering strands of it, then he traced the edge of her cheekbone down to her chin. She kissed down along his jaw, tasting the salt of tears, the stubble rough against her lips. Kissed his chin, then down along his neck to his shoulder. How had she gone so long without him? To be away from such an amazing person—she had not been in her right mind.
She kissed just over his heart, near the bullet scar. A pang shot through her when she thought of how close she'd come to losing him—not just then, but many times. She had to keep him close always; every moment with him was precious.
Her hand met his over the sapphire. "Our love gives this value," she said, "but it's nothing compared to you. You are all I want. This dress" –she fingered its glittery fabric— "is nice to have. But all I need is you." She slid the necklace chain around so the clasp was in the front. He carefully unlatched it, slipped it off, and held it in his hand for a moment, like liquid blue and gold. Then he laid it on the dresser.
She'd have to be careful to not let his touch trigger a negative reaction or make her shut down. It hadn't yet, but she didn't want to risk it, didn't want to automatically pull away and hurt him.
He slid his fingers along the top of the dress; a shiver ran through her at the almost nonexistent brush of his fingertips along her skin. "This is hardly romantic—but we have to deal with it. You're taking birth control, right? Unless—"
"I am. I had a feeling we might—I mean, we are staying in a hotel together."
He looked into her eyes, his like pieces of infinite blue sky. He swept her into a kiss, growing in intensity every moment. By this time she was so immersed in him she hardly noticed when the dress slid to the floor.
She reminisced with him at every touch, even as they wove new patterns of love across each other's skin. Not only rediscovering who he was, but exploring new territory with him, discovering new things that he liked. She wanted to give him everything she could after her long absence.
She blitzed him with kisses then lay down on the bed beside him. He caressed her cheek, tucked back some of her hair. "My beautiful," he whispered.
She slid her hand into his hair; it was soft against her fingers. "My wonderful Jason. You are so—" She couldn't finish the sentence; he transcended everything she could imagine.
Letting all words drown into insignificance, he swept her into a deep, passionate kiss. Love burned through her like a wildfire. All fears and guilt shed from her like shadows of the past, and she merged with him in a love deeper and stronger than ever before.