Page 78 of Always the Bridesmaid

There’s no going back because I am in this. I’m insatiable with lust, taking his jacket down his arms, pulling out his shirt and feeling his warm skin.

He walks backward as we kiss, moving us toward the bed as I unbutton his trousers.

When he can walk backward no longer, he breaks our contact and my lips feel the loss. He encourages my shoulders to turn away from him, then he’s unclasping my halter neck and I pull down the zip at the side of the dress, allowing the garment to fall to the floor.

Standing in my heels, in the new red, lace panties I bought to match the dress, I know without doubt that I dressed with Charlie in mind tonight.

I dressed for this.

My chin falls when his now naked chest meets my back and my breathing quickens.

He runs his hands down my stomach, holding my hips as he presses his crotch against the small of my back, placing soft kisses on my neck.

‘I’ve never met anyone like you, Sarah,’ he whispers. ‘The way you make me feel…’

He leaves his words lingering there and I answer them with my own desire, turning to face him and kissing him greedily now.

He slips off his shoes and I push down his trousers to reveal Marvel boxer briefs and Marvel socks.

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I say, laughing. ‘You brought Spider-Man to bed with us?’

He shrugs. ‘I didn’t know this was going to happen.’

The bizarre thing is, I want him even more for being unpresumptuous, for being his true self. For wearing Marvel underwear.

29

CHARLIE

I roll onto my back, breathless, my heart racing. Not because what we just did was a cardio workout; it wasn’t. It was slow. Passionate. Incredible.

It’s the best time I’ve ever spent with a woman. From the touch of her hand in mine in the hotel lobby to the feel of her body under her silk dress. The way her hair fell into my face and the weight of her body on top of mine.

I roll onto my side, not sure how much of this I should say aloud. I want her to understand how much that meant to me but I know she was hesitant at first. I don’t want to overwhelm her.

She’s lying on her back but turns her head in my direction. Her eyes meet mine and silence me before I speak because I can tell she isn’t feeling the things I’m feeling.

I don’t know what to say. I can’t beg her to fall for me the way I have for her.

But I know her. I think. She wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t care about me.

The look in her eyes tells me otherwise. She looks… haunted. Regretful.

She looks away from me, casting her eyes to the ceiling. Then she flops one arm over her face and I see her mouth twist with sadness.

I don’t know how to fix this and I don’t get a chance to, because Sarah gets out of bed, heads into the ensuite, and locks the door behind her.

She turns on a tap and it sounds like she’s splashing water on her face.

How did this go so wrong? We just had the most amazing night, both before and when we got back here. Now I’m lying on a bed, wondering what I’m supposed to do. Do I comfort her in her clear distress, her horror over spending the night with me?

I don’t want her to hurt – not if it feels remotely as bad as I feel right now.

Taking a sheet with me – feeling too exposed to be entirely naked – I tap on the bathroom door.

‘Sarah?’

She’s crying, I can hear it now.

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