“Because you could have found it on the Internet. It would have saved me a lot of wooing.”
“I like the wooing.”
He was quiet for a moment, his fingers running over my ribs. “I like wooing you.”
The thought crossed my mind that this could be dangerous. Not the ill-advised sex with the just-out-of-his-teens pop star, but thecuddling. The lying there, drinking in his scent, watching his chest rise and fall, allowing myself to bask in my own happiness. I could fall in love this way.
“May I ask you a question?” he asked. It was not his usual starter. “Is Daniel the last person you slept with?”
His query threw me. “Are you lying here thinking of Daniel?”
“I’m lying here thinking of you.”
The sun was shifting, casting the room in a pale pink hue. Like being inside a shell, a watercolor. I wanted to hold on to the moment, paint it.
“Yes… Does that change things for you?”
He shook his head, his fingers moving over the material of my dress. “No. So long as you’re all right with this.”
I probably should have asked him to define “this” exactly. It might have saved us a lot of confusion and heartache.
“I’m all right with this,” I said instead.
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“Let me know if that changes,” he said.
He took his time peeling off my dress, untying my bikini top, kissing and caressing every inch of me. My shoulder blades, my breasts, the dip at the base of my back, my hip bones, my knees, the insides of my wrists. He was so tender, so complete in his lovemaking. Someone had taught him well.
“Is there anything you have that I should know about?” I asked. He had fetched a condom from the canvas bag and was opening the wrapper.
“Other than a few thousand psychotic fans?” He smiled. “No.”
“Only a few thousand?”
“Who are genuinely psychotic? Yes,” he laughed. “Anythingyouhave that I should know about?”
“A twelve-year-old daughter who will disown me when she finds out what I’m about to do,” I said, watching him roll on the condom. Condoms. Right. God, it had been a long time.
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
“Good. I won’t tell your fans.”
In that final minute, with Hayes above me, and my mind clear, I recalled an earlier conversation. “So this is just lunch. Right?”
He hesitated, and then smiled. “It might be more than lunch.”
That first moment of entry was everything. And after three years of nothing and ten years of Daniel—who was lovely, but definitelynotHayes—it was transcendent.
He was slow and gentle, and I knew immediately why he’d asked about my ex. Because he’d managed to make me feel like a virgin in his hands, in a way that I had not expected. I wanted to tell him that he need not be so delicate, but I was kind of enjoying it. I was kind of enjoying everything. The weight of him, the size of him, the smoothness of his back, the firmness of his ass… all of it. I didn’t even care that it hurt. Part of me wondered why I had waited so long. Perhaps what I had waited for was him.
We lay there, after, bathed in fractals of light, watching dust particles dance in the air, spent, happy.
“It’s a pity I don’t smoke,” I said eventually, “because I could really use a cigarette right now.”
“I have gum.”
