So why did she stop kissing her?
Riley blinks as if she’s waking up from a dream, and slides her hands out of Charlotte’s hair, landing back down on her hips.
Charlotte knits her eyebrows together in confusion—and a hint of rejection, maybe—and then bucks her hips forward to give the other woman a silent hint of what she wants. Riley lets out another breathy gasp, throws her chin up, and leans away.
“No,” she says softly, locking eyes with Charlotte again. At the betrayed look in her eyes, Riley digs her thumbs into her hips in a grounding, reassuring gesture, before she steps away completely, and wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
Charlotte feels a brief rush of anger that's quickly replaced by bewilderment. Riley catches it, shakes her head and reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hairbehind Charlotte’s ear. Her hand stays there, gently cupping Charlotte’s cheek.
“If we’re ever going to do this,” she says softly, motioning between them. “We’re not going to do it in a public bathroom. That’s not how I do things.”
When she sees Charlotte wants to say something but no words come out, she leans in and continues softly: “If we’re ever going to do this, it’s going to be in a large, comfortable bed,” she draws out the words, her voice barely a whisper now. “If you are ever ready for this, you say the word, and I’m going to take my time with you. I will teach you things about yourself that even you didn’t know. You will feel like a fucking queen. I’m going to make you see stars.”
There is barely any time to progress Riley’s words. Charlotte closes her eyes and shivers. When she opens them again, Riley is already by the door.
“Cuídate, Charlotte,” she says, and disappears from view.
That night, in the safety and comfort of her own bed, is the very first time Charlotte ever touches herself to the idea of a woman—which she knows every woman does at least once in her life.
And when she comes, it’s to the memory of hands in her hair, a body pressed against hers, and Riley’s delicious, beautiful gasps.
As her back arches, she reaches for those promised stars.
4
When Charlotte wakes up the next morning, the memories of last night come crashing down on her right away. Her body doesn’t give her much time to process them as her stomach clenches and her temples throb.
She didn’t have that much to drink, but she hasn’t gotten any younger lately. She reaches for her sleeping mask in the drawer of her night stand, puts it on, and tries to go back to sleep.
It’s 4:00 PM when she opens her eyes again. She pulls the sleeping mask up, lets it sit on her forehead, and winces at the daylight hitting her face. With closed eyes she feels around for her phone and finds it by her pillow. There’s a text from Gabi:
'Thank you soooooo much. Had THE BEST time. You?'
Charlotte grimaces and wants to start typing something, but as it dawns on her that she has no idea how to answer the question, she pauses. Dropping her phone for a second, she presses her knuckles into her eyeballs for a sense of relief, but her stinging headacheonly gets worse.Potent margaritas.She scoffs, and lets her head fall back on the pillow.
The next time she wakes up, it’s already dark outside and her body feels clammy. The covers are twisted around her legs so she kicks herself free, needing some space and air. Shit, has she really slept through the entire day?
She pushes herself up to fetch a glass of water and take care of her dry mouth, but the room starts spinning. She grips onto the mattress to ground herself, breathes in and out, and gets up slowly. Keeping one eye closed, she walks to the ensuite and fills her glass in the sink, downs it in one go, and fills it up again.
Stumbling back toward her bed, she finally allows herself to replay the events of last night. It’s an overwhelming amount of information and another bolt of lightning strikes her right between the eyes.
This isn’t working. She decides to kill it with an ibuprofen that she keeps in her night stand, and after shuffling back onto the mattress, she sits back against the headboard, knees up, clinging to her glass of water for dear life.Okay,she says to herself,so what has happened exactly?
She’d kissed Riley. Let’s start there. Or Riley kissed her—it doesn’t really matter, but she figures it was bound to happen at some point, with all their taunting and flirting. Big fucking deal.
Up next; the way she’d felt during the kiss, the way her mind and her soul had responded to Riley’s touches, the way her body knew exactly what it wanted… nope.
Nope, she’s not going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. She’ll get back to that later.
Then; Riley’s rejection. Was it a rejection? Things had heated up quickly and Riley had hardly been unfazed, judging by the want dripping from her eyes and her rapid breathing. She could’ve had Charlotte right then and there, but she’d tapped out. Why?
The words slowly drift back to her.'That’s not how I do things.'Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut, but Riley materializes in her imagination; she can’t walk away.'I will teach you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.'
As the memory reminds her of what she’d done next, when she’d gotten home, she’s in a sudden dire need of fresh air. She crawls toward her bedroom window and all but yanks it open. Despite the cool air hitting her face, she feels dirty. She hasn’t showered all day, which definitely doesn’t help, but the idea that Riley had wound her up so much she couldn’t stop herself from masturbating, thinking of her… It leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
She leaves the window open as she strides back to the bathroom, determined to wash it all away. She takes her toothbrush with her in the shower, where she stays for nearly twenty minutes.
When she feels clean enough, she steps out and dries herself off, frustrated that the shower hasn’t done anything to subdue her raging headache. Wrapped in a towel, she walks back to the bedroom, now pleasantly cooled down by the open window.
