I kiss her then, deep and thorough and full of all the things I'm not ready to say out loud. She melts into me, her fingers threading through my hair, her body pressing close like she's trying to climb inside my skin.
We don't make it to the playroom. I lift her onto the kitchen counter and she wraps her legs around my waist and we fuck right there, slow and intense and nothing like the games we've been playing. Just two people trying to get as close as physically possible, chasing something that feels a lot like the beginning of forever.
She comes with my name on her lips. I follow her over the edge with my face buried in her neck, breathing her in like I can memorize her scent.
After, she laughs against my shoulder.
"I can't believe we just did that on your kitchen counter."
"I can't believe we waited this long to do it on my kitchen counter."
"It's been two days, Callum."
"Longest two days of my life."
She laughs again, and the sound burrows into my chest and makes a home there.
We spend the afternoon getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Nadia borrows my shower because she claims the water pressure is better, and I spend twenty minutes watching her through the glass door, making mental photographs I know I'll return to long after she's gone.
She's beautiful. Not just physically, though that's undeniable. But in the way she moves, confident and unselfconscious. In the way she hums off-key while she rinses her hair. In the way she catches me watching and doesn't look away, just smiles like being seen by me is exactly what she wanted.
"You're staring."
"I'm admiring. Huge distinction."
"Is that right?" She shuts off the water and reaches for a towel. "And what exactly are you admiring?"
"Everything." I hand her the towel before she can grab it herself. "The curve of your hip. The way you hold your shoulders. The little birthmark on the inside of your thigh that I spent a significant amount of time getting acquainted with last night."
"Significant amount of time." She wraps the towel around herself. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Would you prefer I be more specific? I can describe exactly what I did to that birthmark in great detail."
"Save it for later." She rises on her toes to kiss my cheek. "We have a rehearsal dinner to survive."
The drive down the mountain is easier than I expected. The county crews did good work, and the roads are clear if still slick in patches. Nadia spends the drive on her phone, texting her sister and fielding increasingly frantic questions about her mysterious plus-one.
"She wants to know your net worth."
"Tell her it's enough."
"She wants to know your political affiliation."
"Tell her I vote for whoever will leave me alone."
"She wants to know..." Nadia pauses, reading. "Oh god. She wants to know if you're good in bed. She says, and I quote, 'You've got that post-orgasm glow and I need details immediately.'"
"Tell her I'm adequate."
Nadia snorts. "I'm telling her you're exceptional. Which you are. False modesty doesn't suit you."
"Nothing false about it. I'm just aware that exceptional is subjective."
"Trust me." She reaches over and squeezes my thigh. "Not subjective. Objectively, verifiably, repeatedly exceptional."
I catch her hand before it can wander higher. "Save it for later. We have a rehearsal dinner to survive."
"Using my own words against me. Rude."
