Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

pulled her body closer. Fueled by desires too long buried, he kissed her with all that he was, all that he dreamt of being. She opened herself to him, and he took all she offered. The gentle kiss blossomed with passion, as he tasted her, drank her in, devoured her. He felt her breasts crush against his chest as he pulled her closer still. His hands splayed across the arch of her back and the delicate curve of her neck. The silk of her hair wound its way around his fingers as she wound her way around his heart.
    She eased her mouth from his, and he could feel the soft warmth of her breath against his cheek. He groaned with pleasure and opened his eyes.
    “Simon,” she whispered breathlessly.
    He pulled back and looked into her face, flushed with the heat of the moment, lips swollen and slightly parted. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, pulling him in. He was falling, spiraling, completely out of control. Out of control. Slowly, a swelling terror rose in his chest. The panicked feeling from his dream, the loss and desolation, surged inside him. Dear God, what had he done?
    It was a moment he would revisit for years to come—the moment he pushed her away.
    He still held her, not to him, but away from him. His fingers dug into her arms, as his grip tightened. He couldn’t do this. He’d been a fool to think he could lose himself in her. He could never outrun who he was, who he wasn’t. Love was a luxury for other men. He shook his head slightly and winced as pain and confusion colored her expression.
    “That was a mistake,” he said.
    Her face blanched, and she gripped the small, stuffed tiger tightly. “I... I don’t understand,” she stuttered.
    He couldn’t explain it. How could he confess that he could never be the man she wanted, the man she deserved? Wanting her in return couldn’t change that. No matter how much he wanted her. He’d selfishly taken what she’d offered without thought to the consequence. He could love her. He did love her, he thought with a deepening sickness in his heart, but he couldn’t bear to be loved by her. To have something so beautiful and know it couldn’t last. To know each day spent with her was one fewer day left to them. The swell of panic from his nightmares overwhelmed him again. He could not bear to let her in, only to have to let her go again. His heart couldn’t take the risk.
    “But on the train,” she said. “And this morning, I know...”
    The pain in her voice cut into his resolve, but he couldn’t waver. He knew he was a coward. That realization only reaffirmed he was right in pulling away. He wasn’t capable of being what she needed. He was selfish and afraid. The sooner they both faced it, the better. She deserved a whole man, not broken pieces.
    “Mistakes,” he said more firmly.
    She looked as if she’d been struck. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to comfort her. He reined them in. Better a clean cut. He would watch over her, loving her safely from afar. If he kept his distance, maybe one day he could forget her. Or perhaps, if he stayed away from her, the terrible fate he’d dreamt of would never come to pass.
    “We should be getting back,” he said. He set his jaw and let his eyes fall to the ground.
    Elizabeth glared at him for a long moment. He could feel her eyes boring into him, but he didn’t have the courage to meet them. Didn’t have the strength to weather the questions and the anger he knew they held. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
    * * *
    The train home was crowded, but there were still seats to be had. Elizabeth took one next to a window. Simon had kept his distance as he followed her back to the station, and now stood alone in the back of the car as it shimmied down the track.
    He watched Elizabeth lean her head against the cool glass of the window. The dark scenery passed by in a blur. He’d done the right thing, he told himself. The only thing he could. He’d always walked along the periphery of emotion, never willing to submit. It was a lonely way to live, but it was the only way he knew. He was too old to change now, too afraid, if he dared admit it. His demons were too familiar, too insidious, killing him by inches instead of miles. A way of life that wasn’t living. A heart as little used as his couldn’t bear the strain. He’d have lost her eventually. He was sure of that. Better to stay that way from the start than be cleft in two.
    When the train reached the station,