Seven. Maisie
Seven
Maisie
After the first time, Maisie was certain nothing could ever be better than sex with Nick King. She’d never felt so aware of every nerve in her body, every pulse and pleasure point. After the second time, she decided that the only thing that could be better than sex with him was more sex with him. And then he’d held her and talked to her, made her laugh, and made her feel cherished. They fell asleep like two longtime lovers who could only truly rest when they were wrapped up in each other. Every bit of it, on its own and all together, was an experience Maisie had never had.
Nick’s soft breaths warmed her shoulder. He had curled himself around her body, his hand resting on her stomach. She felt every inch of him and wanted to memorize all of it. The feel, the sounds, the cadence of his breathing. The moments played like a slideshow in her head and even though she was tired, she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t want it to be over.
Nick’s hand twitched; Maisie held her breath. She felt his lips against her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered.
Please don’t say you should go back to your room. Or maybe it would be for the best.
Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, he shifted against her, his hands smoothing up and down over her skin, awakening her all over again. Maisie leaned forward, let herself rest on her stomach, her face turned to the side as Nick explored her neck and her back with his lips and his hands.
She felt like she was dreaming, and she never wanted to wake up.
Maisie stirred hours later when soft rays of predawn light snuck between the almost-closed curtains. She shifted and turned so she could lay her head on Nick’s chest and was surprised to see his eyes half open, a sleepy smile on his sexy face.
“There’s officially no hour of the day that you aren’t beautiful,” he whispered, pulling her close.
The second she was alone, she planned to write down every word he said that flipped her heart upside down so she could remember them always.
“I could say the same about you,” she said, kissing the underside of his chin, inhaling the scent of hotel soap they’d both used in the shower.
“Men aren’t beautiful,” he said gruffly.
Maisie smiled against him. “Of course they are. In a hundred different ways.”
“I like your brain, Maisie,” Nick whispered, the words drifting off as he fell back asleep.
“Maisie,” Nick whispered.
Her eyelids fluttered open. Nick’s face was close to hers, their bodies entwined.
“What makes you happy?”
She smiled at him through half-closed lids. “Capturing a perfect moment, a sunny, fall day, and this moment. This night.”
His breath and his facial hair tickled her awake as he kissed her with a softness she’d never imagined. She had no concept of time. It didn’t matter. There was only him.
“What makes you happy?” She asked between kisses.
“Hockey. My sister and her kid. This night. Your smile.”
Her heart sighed even as it beat harder.
“What makes you sad?” She didn’t know why she asked but it felt important to know.
Leaning back, he cupped her cheek. “My relationship with my mom, being away for long periods of time, and the thought of leaving you.”
Her heart lurched toward his. “Don’t go.”
His smile was quiet, just a glimpse between his mustache and beard. “What if you don’t like who I am outside of this night?”
Maisie pulled his face closer with a hand on the back of his head. Their noses touched. “What if I do?”
“I’m gone a lot,” he whispered.
She didn’t remember why. Had he told her? Did it matter? She thought of how often her parents were apart. They were in love and had a family; they made it work.
“I stay in one place. You’ll always be able to find me.”
Closing the tiny space between them, he kissed her like he believed her, like he wanted that too. Like maybe their forever didn’t have to start and end tonight.
He whispered her name, stroked her hair away from her face, then lifted his head to stare down at her.
“I have some time off. I want to get to know you. Really know you. Outside this room, outside of this night.”
Happiness burst inside of her like multicolored mini explosions. “I want that too. More than I can tell you.”
Though his gaze was still sleepy, his smile was wide. “You just did.”
Maisie laughed, pulled him down to her mouth again, whispering against his, “Then let me show you.”
Maisie shifted in the bed, realizing that at some point over the course of the night, she’d disentangled herself from Nick’s warm embrace. She shivered in the early morning chill, debating whether or not she had the energy to get up and shut the air conditioner off. It hummed in the quiet.
Turning to use Nick’s body to warm her own, she found empty space. Smiling against her pillow, she glanced toward the bathroom door. It stood open, the light out. Lifting up on one elbow, she glanced back at the hotel alarm clock. Still early.
“Nick,” she whispered. Her throat was dry.
Her gaze wandered the room, her mind still trapped in memories of the entire night and the fog of waking up. Something didn’t feel right. Maisie shifted, sat up, holding the sheets to her chest.
Her dress lay over the arm of the chair. They’d left it on the floor, right next to Nick’s clothes. Her pulse scrambled. The floor was bare but for the dizzying geometric shapes on the rug. Maisie sucked in a breath; said his name louder. The word didn’t have to echo for her to know she was alone. She looked to the bedside table where he’d set his phone. It was gone.
Another look around the room and it was like he’d never really been here. All traces had vanished like the entire evening had, in fact, been a dream. Except, she could still feel his arms around her, taste the hint of chocolate cake on his lips, and smell his cologne mingling with the hotel soap. Her body ached in new places and her lips felt deliciously tender from his mouth. His words still whispered through her head.
But he was gone. Not the went-out-for-coffee kind of gone; the kind where she’d never know why. Tears trickled down her cheeks as Maisie lay back in the bed, Nick’s scent still on the sheets and pillowcase.
Tears pooled and spilled over. Maisie closed her eyes tightly against them.
He hadn’t even said goodbye.