The same heat I remember from all those years ago. The same heat that almost consumed us both the night before I left for Chicago.
"More wine?" Gia asks, and I realize she's been trying to get my attention.
"Please."
The rest of dinner passes in a haze. I make appropriate responses when spoken to, laugh at the right moments, play the part of the gracious guest of honor. But every cell in my body is attuned to the woman across from me, to every word she speaks and every move she makes.
When dessert is wrapping up and the guests begin to stand, I see Annie split off, heading down one of the hallways leading away from the dining room. I breathe in and out slowly, resisting the urge to follow immediately. Instead, I dab my lips with a napkin, take the last sips of the port served with dessert, and then finally stand as Gia does.
“I need to find a restroom,” I say quietly. “I’ll find you in the ballroom shortly for a dance.”
I see a flicker of reservation on her face, but she nods without arguing, her expression perfectly smooth. “I need to touch up my lipstick,” she says with a smile. “I’ll meet you after.”
As I slip out of the dining room, I hang back, merging with the flow of guests until I see that Ronan has disappeared toward the ballroom with Leila. And then I head down the hallway where I saw Annie go, my heart beating hard in my chest.
I swear I can smell the fresh, herbal scent of her perfume as I walk down the darkened hall, like an Irish breeze from the sea. I hear the click of heels from the right, and I turn to follow the sound, only to see her a moment later, silhouetted in the light coming from an arched window. Her hand is pressed against the wall next to it, and she’s looking out at the moonlit view.
“Annie,” I say her name when I’m a few paces away, and she jumps, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. I hear the squeak that she makes, and then she presses her hand against her chest as she sees me.
“Elio,” she breathes. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” The sound of my name on her lips, breathed out like that, has my cock swelling against my thigh. I hold myself rooted in place, knowing that if I move any closer to her, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching her. And if I touch her?—
A vision of her pinned to the wall, my hands caging her in, my lips lowering toward hers, crashes through my mind as blood flows straight to my cock. In an instant, I’m rock-hard, struggling to breathe as I look at the woman in front of me.
“What are you doing here, Elio?” Annie’s voice is cool, collected. I think I hear the smallest quiver in it, but it could just be my imagination. What Iwantto hear. “Do you need something?”
You. I need you.
“I—” I have no idea what to say. What excuse do I have for following her here, down this dark hallway, where if someone were to see us, there would be all kinds of explaining to do. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
I see her tense slightly, her hand dropping away from the wall. “I’m fine. I just needed a little quiet for a minute. Needed to clear my head before going back into the party.”
“I thought as much.” Against my better judgment, I take a step closer to her. “I remember that you don’t like crowds. Or parties. Or small talk with people you don’t know.”
“That was when we were kids.” Now I know I haven’t imagined the small quiver in her voice. The effort she’s expending to sound controlled.She feels it, too, still.
But what does that matter? It doesn’t change anything. Do I just want her to suffer, too? To feel the same pain I do?
“Has anything changed?” I meet her eyes, and I know the question I’m asking isn’t just about Annie’s social battery. From the way her expression shutters, she does, too.
Her lips press together. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“I know.”Fuck, I know. “But we can’t go forever without talking about it, can we? Now that I’m back, and you’re?—”
“What am I?” Annie’s gaze flashes slightly in the light from outside. “What, Elio? What do you want to say?”
Another step toward her.Stop. I know better.Don’t get closer. Don’t touch her. “I thought you’d be married by now. I thought you’d belong to someone else.”
She scoffs from somewhere deep in her throat, the sound bitter, hanging in the air between us. “And that would have made it easier? To come home?”
“I thought it would.” I swallow hard. “If there was no going back. But you’re not married. You’re not even with someone. Or at least, I didn’t think you were. But seeing you with Desmond the other night?—"
“That was none of your business.” Her voice hardens. “I’mnone of your business, Elio.”
"I saw him kiss you. I saw you let him." The words come out rougher than I intended. "And it nearly killed me."
"Elio, we can't?—"
