Hotel bathrobes were cozy, but they definitely weren’t sexy. Her wedding night La Perla lingerie, on the other hand, was very sexy. Still, the idea of putting it on today made her feel like she couldn’t breathe.
Megan opted for a jewel-toned bra and a matching pair of lace underwear and contemplated the top layer. She felt as though she were wrapping a gift, but the gift was what she wanted, and she was giving it to herself.
She clearly needed to sober up a little. She started the coffeemaker—possibly without putting in a filter—then promptly forgot she’d started it and opened the minibar.
The startling price of one bottle of water didn’t stop her from chugging the entire thing. The way things were going, she’d never get the bill. She chased it with an energy drink. Then she had to pee.
Her skin tingled with anticipation when she thought of Leo. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted late in those nights while Tom slept and her shadow self emerged? Wasn’t this what she’d imagined every time she’d gotten angry about having her post-college life mapped out for her? When she’d thought about every opportunity she’d either given up or not even reached for because her role had always been to contort herself into the shapes others wanted to see?
She’d done a lot for Tom and his family. She’d done so much for her own family. Now she was going to do something for herself.
And she refused to feel even a smidgen of guilt about it, even if the guilt was peering through the curtains of her conscience.
She threw her jersey dress over her carefully selected underwear, sprayed her hair with dry shampoo, and applied blush, mascara, and a light sheen of lip gloss.
And then the guilt stared her down, so she gave herself a pep talk.
After a quick call to the lobby to find out which room she needed (normally they didn’t give out that information, but she was staying in the bridal suite and they apparently made exceptions for brides), she walked the length of the hallway to the elevator and pressed the down button.
A little light-headed from gin, caffeine, and a tiny dose of panic, Megan slowed her breathing and asked herself if this was what she wanted. And then she got off the elevator and knocked on the door of Leo’s hotel room.
He opened it; his face registered surprise, followed quickly by longing.
“Hi,” she said. It was cliché in its breathlessness, but it was real. “Can I come in?”
Instead of answering, he pulled her into a hug so warm and strong, she thought she could live there. Have food delivered to that hug. Sleep in that hug. Never leave.
She thought again about the fraying connection she had to Tom, measured it against the pull she felt to Leo. How had she never realized how powerfully they were linked despite time and geographical distance?
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to avoid me, but I want to talk to you.” He pulled her into the room and closed the door. With his hands gently on her shoulders, he pushed her away just far enough to drink her in with his eyes. “I thought about calling, about writing, and I know my timing—”
Megan shook her head and he stopped talking. A slow smile crawled across her face, growing wider by the second. “Your timing is perfect.”
Not knowing how to communicate what she had planned, she started by placing her hand on his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles under her palms.
Today was about what she wanted.
She knew what Leo wanted already, but she still checked in with him, raising her eyes to his as she let her fingers trail achingly slowly down the muscles of his abdomen to the waist of his worn jeans. He nodded and reached one hand around to the small of her back, the other behind her head. His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer until their parted mouths met and they melted into each other.
Their tongues, warm and slick, teased as their bodies pressed together harder. She heaved her chest just to feel more of him against her. She could live in his hug, but she could die in this kiss.
Greedily, Megan fiddled with the button fly of his jeans. While she did so, he whipped his shirt off, revealing a torso that was familiar and yet firmer, his shoulders broader.
His pants dropped to the floor and she dug her fingers into the light dusting of chest hair that had grown in the years since she’d last taken off his shirt. She wanted to lick, nip, feel every part of him, but she was still far too clothed.
Leo reached for the hem of her dress, ready to pull it over her head, and paused, a question in his eyes. The look was so tender it nearly undid her.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Should we talk first?”
“Yes to being sure, no to the talking.” She whipped her dress off herself, nearly swooning from the lust in his eyes as he took in her body.
She was enjoying teasing him too much, letting his anticipation build, to remove her bra and underwear just yet. She gave him a playful push toward the bed, and he walked backward as she angled herself against him, biting at his bottom lip.
“I’ve thought about this, about you, so many times since—” he managed to get out.
“So have I.” The way he wanted her made Megan feel powerful. Desire ached deep within her.
Leo rolled her over until she lay on her back, the hotel covers tangling beneath them. Starting at her jaw, he kissed his way to her mouth, marking a path over her. She hadn’t seen anyone naked other than Tom in years. Not since, well, Leo.
But Megan didn’t want to think about Tom. Not even as the gin wore off and her nerves knocked politely at her subconscious. She muted those nerves by encouraging Leo to move faster to the main event.
Eight years had passed and yet it felt like that same morning, the day of her graduation, when they’d first succumbed to their mutual attraction.
Their bodies gave into those years of anticipation and Megan decided it was most assuredly worth the wait.