“Well, you’re not exactly wearing your work clothes tonight, and this morning you had to leave kind of abruptly to go shower and change at your house, and the thing is, there’s a shower here, but—”
“But I didn’t bring anything to change into,” he finished.
He’d thought about it, when he’d gone home from work to change for tonight. But he’d worried that might make him seem too sure of her (which he wasn’t) or too into her (which he was) and so he’d abandoned the idea. Now that felt ridiculous.
“I only live six blocks away,” he said. She looked disappointed when he said that, until he moved to the door. “Be right back.”
She looked confused for a second, and then laughed.
“Excellent idea. And you’d better mean that.”
He turned, his hand already on the front door, and smiled at her.
“My car can go very fast.”
Luckily, he didn’t have to run any red lights on the way to his apartment building, but he blew through a few yellows. He threw jeans, boxers, a shirt, and socks into his bag, along with a razor and a handful of condoms, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was back at Margot’s front door.
She opened the door almost as soon as he knocked, which was very gratifying.
“Hi,” she said.
He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped his bag.
She’d changed. She was wearing another silky robe, like the night before, but this one was a lot shorter, and a lot more sheer, than the one from last night. It was black, trimmed in lace, and was tied, very loosely, at her waist.
And it was very evident to him that she had nothing on underneath it.
“Wow,” was all he could say.
That put a very wide smile on her face.
“I hoped you would like this.”
He trailed a finger along the neckline of her robe.
“I honestly don’t think I could have lived another minute without seeing you in this.”
She laughed, that throaty laugh that had driven him wild, the times he’d overheard it at the winery. And he realized again that he didn’t have to hide his reaction to her anymore.
He let his hand move slowly down her body, from her neck to her waist, and then pulled her closer to him.
“Do you have any idea,” he said, “just how much I’ve wanted you? Every time I looked at you, all I could think of was just how fucking incredible you are. In many ways, but specifically right now I have to tell you how hot you are. And all I wanted was to be able to touch you like this.”
Her hands were on his chest, and a look he’d never seen before was in her eyes.
“And now you can,” she said.
“And now I can,” he said. And then he bent down to kiss her.
They stood there for a while, kissing, touching, whispering to each other, in the middle of her living room. Unlike last night,he didn’t want to rush this. They had all night. They had as much time as they wanted. He wanted to relax into this, linger in it, revel in it. He wanted her to enjoy this, thrill in it, the way he was.
“Let’s go in the bedroom,” she said, low in his ear, after they’d stood there together for a while. “I want you.”
He kissed her harder when she said that. When she’d said it the first time—in her office, with the two of them almost wild with pent-up desire—he’d thought he felt triumphant. But that was nothing compared to how he felt now. Now she said it with no prompting; now she said it just because she wanted him to know it. Before, he’d wondered after if she hadn’t really meant it, at least, not the way he meant it. Now he didn’t doubt her.
He took her hand.
“Yes. Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.