“Are you sure?” It takes all of my strength to stop and I ask, giving her one last chance to back out.
“Stop being so uptight.” She teases as she starts to undo my pants, and when she says that it unleashes every reservation that I’ve had. I pick her up and kiss her how I’ve wanted to kiss her since the day we stood in that shower, before she realized it was me. I kiss her the way I wanted to yesterday, when she sat mesmerized at my feet. Her taste is addictive, her touch almost healing. The look on her face when we become one, unimaginable. As I go deeper inside of her I feel as if I’m falling into deep ends of water, and I’m afraid because for the first time in my life I’m in unchartered territory. This feeling is foreign; not being completely in control, knowing the outcome of this may not result in the best circumstances for us. This could cause problems. It will cause problems, but I fix the problems… I’ve fixed Cal’s, I’ve fixed Chris’s, and I’ll fix this. They need me; it’s not the other way around. They’ll understand.
They’ll have to.
Was last night just a dream? Hazy memories of lips on my neck, stomach and other places that throb run through my mind. Fingers touching, as if they were given a road map to each secret place on my body. When I open my eyes I don’t see the high vaulted ceilings I saw last night, and my back isn’t stiff from doing all sorts of wild things on the hardwood floors. Could it really have been just a dream?
It had to be because in real life I wouldn’t seduce Collin. The restrained, calculating, perfectly put together Collin didn’t unleash himself and remind me of his counterparts more than I ever thought possible. He didn’t help me come apart time and time again in the space he bought for me to open a gallery. No that didn’t happen. It couldn’t have. But when I look over and see the white dress from my dream neatly folded on my dresser, I catch my breath.
It did happen.
I hear the shower running and swallow hard. How did I get from there to here? That wine must have been super strong. No, I can’t blame it on the wine.
I was lonely, and I wanted him. Is that so wrong? I wanted my husband’s touch, his kiss, to feel him inside of me. Am I a bad person for that? Shit, I feel like this is déjà vu again. I cautiously get out of bed and walk over to the bathroom door, which is closed. I listen to the water running, and open the door to see the shower is clouded with steam. I’m apprehensive as I open it this time. I’m almost shaking with nerves at the thought of it opening and it being another person. Instead, the door opens for me.
“You’re welcome to come in.” He smirks and stands back for me to come in. I let out a small sigh of relief because I am not prepared to be attacked or shouted at for what happened last night. As I step in the shower, I’m immediately enveloped by warmth, and it melts my apprehension away. I sit on the bench in the shower opposite of him, and we’re both quiet.
“Good morning.” He smiles, but it’s almost bashful—a look I’ve never seen on him.
“Good morning.” I wear my own shy smile even though we’re both sitting in front of each other completely naked. If I didn’t imagine what we did last night and it’s all real, we’re beyond being bashful. I rest my head back on the tile and let the water drip down my skin. The sound of the water is relaxing and calming, but what I really want to hear is his voice, for him to say something.
“Yesterday was interesting,” he says, his voice serious with only a hint of amusement. I fight myself from letting out a nervous chuckle and swallow my nerves instead.
“Was it?” I ask back through barely veiled sarcasm, mimicking his usual tone. I wish there wasn’t so much steam, that I could look at him better, not that if I could see him it could cause me to read him any more accurately. I want to know what he’s thinking‚ but according to him he’s an open book. Suddenly it’s like my wish is granted, and he appears through the steam and my eyes drink him in, every perfect curve on his body, solid muscle, sculpted and hard. Even after all of these years, I fall in lust with him all over again when I look at him. I pull in a much-needed breath when he kneels between my legs and pulls me so that our chests are touching. Our heartbeats pulse against each other, mine speeding like horses trotting and his steady. He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses the inside of my wrist, while his eyes stay on mine. My heart rate is climbing higher and higher as his fingers trail up my thighs. This feeling is familiar, the rush of it, the suspense, the teasing. His lips crash into mine and he doesn’t let them go. A wave of heat passes through me, and I feel like I’m tumbling through time again, one year, two years, three years... I’m lifted up and my body is pinned to the wall of the shower, his body pressed against mine. His mouth is kissing my lips, down my neck and stomach. I’m lifted and pushed higher, and I gasp when I’m on his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I laugh as I grab his hair holding on. He looks up at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Trust me,” he says before his tongue dives inside of me.
“You’re going to…” My thoughts drown out. Words slip from my mind as his arms lock on both sides of me and my hand digs into one of his arms, while the other digs into his hair. Emotions and memories collide and crash against each other. I feel high, on a drug that I haven’t had in such a long time. The feeling in the pit of my stomach starts to spread throughout my entire body. It’s all so eerily familiar. After all the time that’s passed, should I still feel this way? Is this regressing? Is this a good thing? It hits me all at once, throws me over a cliff, I’m light-headed, I’m weightless…
When I come down literally and figuratively, he lifts my chin so our eyes are locked, and I feel anxious, excited, nervous like he’s a stranger but knows me in the most intimate ways possible. I catch my breath, and a smile stretches across his face and with it, my heart does the same.
“I want to know you.” I run the tip of my fingers lightly across his chin. His eyes squint a little at me, and I realize how ironic my statement is. “You know what I mean,” I giggle feeling my cheeks heat up.
His lips rest against mine, they’re light and strange and familiar at the same time. “I’ll tell you anything.”
“Anything?” I ask. It’s almost too easy.
He’s inside of me.
“Everything?” I ask breathlessly.
He pulls back from me searching my eyes, and for a moment I think he’s irritated, but it’s a flash that disappears in an instant.
“Who are you, Collin Scott?” I fight through a moan.
“Crestfield,” he says before covering my mouth with his.
A beast let out of its cage. I wonder if that’s what I’ve done. The seemingly refined man who wears meticulously put-together suits, well-mannered and well-spoken, reserved, is a complete beast in bed. It seems so contradictory, it was supposed to be different. I thought he’d be careful, slow, and attentive. That’s how he was when he made love to me on the floor of the space. The space for my gallery, the gallery he bought for me, it’s still surreal to think of it. But here, in the shower and in our bed, there is no more carefulness, nothing unsure about his movements in any way. He’s wild and completely sure of everything. No quiet confidence, more like screaming. It reminded me so much of Cal but different in so many ways.