Page 2 of Tonight's the Night
The light from the living room clicks off when I reach the end of the length of kitchen counter. I put my shoulder to the frame of the grand white arch leading into the living room to peekaround.
Nothing. He isn’t here. I tip-toe toward the stairs because there’s a sliver of light slicing through the banister. There’s no harm in me just popping upstairs and seeing what he’s up to. I pace up the stairs carefully and feel mildly as though I am an intruder. When I get to the landing at the top of the flight of the grand staircase, I freeze when my eye catches a glimpse of Mr.Stevens.
His door is open slightly but what’s going on beyond it is not slight. It’s his back, and his shirt is untucked, and his ass is clenched inside his gray slim pants. One of his hands is holding onto the edge of his dresser, and when I take another step forward, I catch his eyes in themirror.
And he catches me, too. That’s when I see what he’s doing. He’s rubbing himself, fast, and the head of his cock is visible in the mirror. He groans and the sound pins me in place, and for a split second a beat of recognition passes over hiseyes.
“Get out of here,” he growls, turning around to face me. Still I am immobile at the top of the stairs, and when he turns around to cross his room and shut the door, I see him in all hisglory.
His hair is pushed back from his forehead and the five-o’clock shadow that always peppers his jaw looks thicker now that I’m closer. His crisp white shirt is unbuttoned and hanging out of his pants to reveal a broad, rippling mass of a wide chest and narrow hips. I force myself to not look lower, and my will prevails over my desire. But what I can’t will my body to do is not become alive for the first time, lit up and bright, with a thundering roll colliding against my belly and a flicking pulse between my legs. He finishes crossing the room and even though it’s only been a second, it feels like a decade passes before he shuts thedoor.
But not before he casts me a long, cool glance, a look to tell me that everything’s allright.
I turn around and race down thestairs.
Emily meets me at the back door and shoves my party dress into my arms, layers of black tulle and silk that I thought would look cute with a little silk bowtie instead of anecklace.
“We should start to get ready, no?” she whispers. “I got everyone to leave. Does heknow?”
I shake myhead.
“Let’s get ready in the guest house instead,” I say, pulling the door closed behind me, stone cold sobriety flashing through my veins. I don’t think she would take well to what just happened, even though it was just anaccident.
What I don’t know now is that my heart will not stop pounding for the next twelvemonths.
