Page 38 of What I Should Have Felt (Anchors and Eagles #4)

COLETTE

I t seemed only fitting that the first place we had ever made love happened to be the very same place that, after fifteen years, we finally shared everything of ourselves with each other again.

But there was something entirely different about it this time.

More binding, as if not a single thing existed in this world that could tear us apart again.

Things were rawer, and more vulnerable. More passionate.

He was simply more. Every sweep of his hand upon my body, every touch against the swell of my hips from his calloused and roughened skin ignited a fire within my bones that had never been there before.

He was patient and exacting, taking in every freckle that littered my skin and every imperfection that had come with time and aging.

And he seemed to relish in it—no, devour it.

He wasn’t the ghost in my mind that I begged to come home all those years ago.

He was here now, holding his girl once again .

Life had taken us on the most unexpected and unfair route, but somehow, despite all the odds that fought against us, here we were, lost in the most perfect moment.

Even if it were just for tonight, I’d sink into every ounce of beauty and love he offered me and believe it was for forever.

Because his love was everlasting. He’d never stopped loving me.

He’d never even given another woman a moment of his time, and I knew he never would.

I hadn’t entirely figured out life yet, but one thing that remained true to the course, no matter the rocky edges I’d crashed upon, the one thing that had never changed was his love for me. And in the end, mine for him.

There were no regrets as we tumbled from the couch to the floor, losing our clothes in the process.

Words were not needed as our bodies spoke every thought that painted between us.

Gentle and rough exactly when it was needed, I lost myself in his touch that took me to the most exquisite and excruciating high of my life.

There he offered me the release I sought, but it wasn’t the ending of this perfect moment.

It was merely the beginning as he fell back into my kiss and melted once more against my body.

As sweet as honey, the ridges of his lips became a sealed memory against my own.

I would never hold another man in my arms—I would never want to hold anyone else.

He was my everything. He came home to me.

In the end, after everything, here he was, speaking without words.

Every fear of his, every desire, everything that made him smile and laugh became wrapped up in my soul.

And he finally took me. After all of his selfless love, giving me pleasure, he eased himself in with an involuntary whimper that matched my own.

Never to be alone again, we became one at this moment.

Wherever life took us after tonight, I’d ride that wave with him.

There was no one else I’d dare to travel this terrifying world with.

Time was of no consequence, and all the sounds that permeated the night air faded behind the moans and whispered pants of my body moving in perfect sync with his.

Stars of pleasure pounded at the back of my vision as his eyes filled with the most undeniable gaze of love. It was as if we were the only love story to ever be captured in this painting we’d created between each other.

Ford was mine. And I was his. No matter how long this life lasted, for this moment would cross into the eternities.

Everything I was, I gave to him. There was no other love as strong as ours, and I knew that, even if I wasn’t able to spend every moment with him, nothing could destroy it.

With his arms holding me, safety and warmth enveloped my body along with the rising passion from him until he, too, found that beautiful cascade at the end of that building pleasure.

And we lay there, panting and exhausted in a messy heap upon the floor. Once our breathing slowed, in silence, he eventually helped clean me and himself up, and then, still without speaking, we simply cuddled up on the couch and held each other.

His lips pressed gently into my forehead as my heavy eyelids drooped. In all the years we’d shared, I’d never felt so calm and safe. For this night, the violence and doom spanning around our families were absent. There was only him and me.

And I drifted to sleep as the whole sky fell around me, cradled within the arms of my best friend and lover.

Morning light danced across my closed eyelids, rousing me from the most blissful and deep sleep I’d ever experienced.

And I shot up on the couch.

“Shit,” I exclaimed. This morning was the 5k that Azelie was running, and I hadn’t set an alarm. In fact, she’d had one of the worst nights of her life, and I’d been here with Ford, having the best one of mine. I ran a hand over my face and glanced at the ticking clock on the wall.

A sigh escaped my lips as it read six in the morning. I had at least an hour before participants started lining up, and two hours before the race started. Slowly, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and scanned the empty room.

Empty.

Wait, what?

Ford wasn’t here. Instead, I was draped in a blanket with my clothes neatly folded on the coffee table beside a stack of letters tied together in brown string. I furrowed my brows and tucked the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I scooted forward on the couch.

Some of the envelopes had become a shade of yellow, others the ends were curled and worn, while some seemed to barely be holding together anymore.

The whitest were on top, to the most frayed on the bottom, and I cautiously reached for the ominous pile.

Carefully, I slid the stack to me and slid the twine off the center of the envelope.

My name, neatly scrawled in Ford’s slightly messy handwriting, stared back.

With a tug of the string, the bow quickly fell away, and I sifted through the large stack of letters.

Upon every single envelope was my name. As I made it further into the pile, the writing became a bit more faded, with many of the letters smudged across the paper.

The bottom few were so worn, I was barely able to make out my name addressed on the center of the envelope. Or maybe it was the tears misting my vision. There had to be years of letters here, all holding something Ford had desired to share with me but never had the chance to.

My hands trembled as I held the oldest letter, creased in the middle as if it’d been folded and unfolded countless times. Stains littered the paper on both sides, reds and browns, smudges of fingers, and things that held stories I wasn’t privy to because of cruel lies that had ripped us apart.

Part of me wished I’d had the chance to tell him that I’d have given up being a doctor if that had meant I’d have been able to be with him.

He’d left to protect me and make sure I was able to pursue my dream, when in reality, it had only been a means to make sure I could go anywhere in this world with him. Doctors were needed everywhere, right?

A wet tear slithered down my cheek, and I quickly swiped it away with the back of my hand.

Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity or what could have beens.

Now, I needed to gather up the beautiful knives that Ford had made for me, these letters, and somehow sneak back into the house without anyone realizing that I’d been gone all this time.

As well as get changed and get Azelie to the starting line for the race .

Getting to the house was the easy part, and I knew how to sneak into Ford’s room through the window.

It was the fact that if Azelie were in the room and saw me climb in through his window, we’d have a major problem.

But, coming up with some excuse to Azelie was easier than trying to explain to my parents and Ford’s parents where I’d been.

Fuck it. Whatever happened, I’d deal with, especially since it wasn’t like I was trying to hide whatever Ford and I were doing now. It just may not have been the best…timing, considering the heartbreak our daughter was dealing with last night.

With a final glance at the stack of envelopes, I quickly tied them back up and snatched up my neatly folded clothes. The blanket slid from my shoulders as I stood, and I winced at the stretch and abrupt movement.

Gritting my teeth, I attempted to shove down the soreness between my legs as I stepped into my underwear and leggings. He’d never left me with this intensity of an ache before, but then again, it had been quite some time since my last sexual excursion, and Ford wasn’t exactly…small by any means .

I bit down on my bottom lip, smiling to myself as memories from last night flooded my mind. Yep. I would certainly accept being sore like this if it meant spending even a smidge of quality time with him again. Abso-fucking-lutely.

Once dressed, I carefully gathered the stack of envelopes and made the mindless journey back to the bedroom window I’d snuck in countless times before.

Well, it was either now or never, and I pressed against the upper left-hand corner of the window.

With a pop, the barricade unlatched, and I slid it open with barely a squeak.

As silent as the moon rising in the sky at night, I folded myself in half and snuck into the completely still and empty room.

Relief flooded my shoulders, whisking away the worry of confessing to Azelie that I’d spent the night blissfully happy while I’d been unable to take away any of the pain she’d been experiencing.

With both of my feet firmly on the floor in Ford’s room, I slid the window back into place with a click, and hearing the faint chatter of voices speaking outside the closed door, I wandered over to my duffel.

And paused.

There, stacked beside my bag, was another tidy pile of envelopes. Nearly as high as the one I carried, these also seemed to go from newest to most worn and faded, tied together with another brown twine.

Kneeling beside the bag, I slid a hand over the side of the letters.

Ridges of paper bumped beneath my palm as I read my name in the center of the top envelope, written in Ford’s handwriting.

A knot welled up in my chest as I placed the stack I held beside that one.

All these years… He’d written me letter after letter, despite knowing I’d married someone else.

Despite the lies, the pain, he’d never stopped thinking of me and caring for me.

Who was I to deserve a love made for the movies?

Who was I to be a part of a painting even I couldn’t create with a romance so precious and perfect, regardless of all the anguish between us?

But my hand itched to pick up a brush for the first time since Ford had left.

I desired an easel and a spring breeze where time wasn’t ticking onward to doom.

I hadn’t painted or drawn a thing since I was eighteen, because my muse had left.

But he was back, and that dam that had stifled my creativity seemed to have broken wide open .

I smiled to myself and closed my eyes. I knew that O’Connor was still a threat, and no matter how strong Ford was, we were all still in danger. But the worry I’d been consumed with about O’Connor was completely absent. We had this. Ford would take care of me, no matter the cost.

Now, I needed to quickly get dressed in my running gear, go snag at least a muffin and banana or something from the kitchen, and drive Azelie to the starting point for the race. No matter how brokenhearted she was, I prayed that at least us doing this run together would help brighten her spirits.