The bathroom is deserted, and I take a few minutes just to breathe. It’s so much quieter up here, almost peaceful. Even if I don’t think I could ever be peaceful in this house. I can’t bear to go back downstairs yet, and so I walk around the upstairs of the house. It’s both so familiar and so foreign. I recognize art and furniture from eleven years ago, and I see new additions to the house, too. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of the door to Sam’s room. Or his old room. The door is open, and I feel drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It’s been updated since I last saw it. More adult furnishings and linens, and a distinct lack of posters on the wall. But it’s the same bed.
I walk inside. I can’t help it. I’m being pulled in, just like I always was. It’s the same bed where I had my first kiss. The same bed where Sam and I lost our virginity to each other. But this room, even though it still bears the stamp of my memories, feels empty. Sam doesn’t live here anymore.
“When I saw you come upstairs I thought I might find you here.”
3
I whip around to find Sam leaning in the doorway, a half-smile on his face.
Here, up close, he’s even sexier than I had thought during the toast, and my mouth is dry with the sudden want that I feel. I shouldn’t want that. I should want to kick him and scream at him, take out eleven years of frustration until he understands the agony that every thought of him brings me. But my body doesn’t want that. It wants to touch him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just needed a minute away from the crowd—found myself here.”
“You never were one for crowds,” he says.
“No.” We’re smiling at each other for a second, and then it’s over. I shouldn’t be here.
I take a step toward the door, and he straightens. “Are you sure you came up here to get away? There’s no other reason?”
“Of course not,” I say, walking to the door. “I shouldn’t have come up here. I’m sorry.”
In one second I’m taking a step to slip behind him, and in the next, his hands are on my waist and my back is against the wall. I lose my breath entirely because he’s so close and so real and even though it’s been years, all I want is this. His hands aren’t on my waist anymore, and I’m wishing that they were. Instead they’re on the wall, blocking my escape. “I don’t believe you,” he says quietly.
I can feel the heat from his body, smell the hint of his cologne, and it’s like no time has passed. I’m suddenly more than ready, tingles running across my skin. I’m wet, and extremely aware of the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear. Sam’s breath drifts across my skin, and the goosebumps that follow make my nipples harden. If he looks down he’ll see and he’ll know. But he doesn’t. His eyes never leave my face, searching every corner of it. More than once he glances at my lips, and I’m suddenly remembering what it feels like to kiss him. All fire and focus and oh my god I want that.
I’m staring at his lips and I can’t look away.
“Fiona,” he says, voice low. “I’ve been thinking about you for a long time.”
“Have you?” My voice sounds weaker than I want it to, nothing more than whisper.
He smirks. “It’s a bold move, walking into my house, trying to get my attention like this.”
I bristle. “Is that what you think I was doing?”
Sam places a finger on my shoulder, and all my senses narrow down to that single point of contact. He moves it, stroking across my shoulder to the center of my chest and downward. I’m shivering with his touch and he only has a single finger on me. It keeps dropping, skimming the bare skin exposed by my neckline, and all I can do is watch his face. He finds the bottom of the plunge—closer to my belly button than my breasts, and meets my eyes. I feel like time is moving in slow motion as he leans in, lips pressing to that spot just below my ear. His voice is a whisper that has me quaking with need. “No one walks into a party in this dress and those shoes not wanting attention. And since you seem to desperately want it, I’m going to give to you.”
I laugh, trying to regain some sense of myself. Trying to convince myself that I’m not hopelessly lost in him. “You noticed my shoes?”
“Just enough to imagine them over my shoulders while I fuck you senseless in this dress.”