5. The Day Before #2
The words hit Margot somewhere deep, somewhere she'd been keeping locked for years. Her defenses trembled, the careful architecture threatening to collapse.
She should pull back. Should make an excuse, retreat to the safety of her binder and her schedules and the comfortable distance she'd maintained for so long.
Instead, she said: "What if I'm tired of being afraid?"
"Then stop." Becca's voice was barely a whisper.
They walked back to the cottage in charged silence.
The wedding party dinner was still hours away. They had time. Time Margot didn't know what to do with, time that stretched before them like an invitation.
The cottage door closed behind them, and suddenly the small space felt even smaller. Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears. Becca's presence behind her filled the room.
"Margot."
She turned.
Becca was standing three feet away, hands at her sides, looking at her with an expression that was equal parts determination and vulnerability.
"I'm going to kiss you now," Becca said. "Unless you tell me not to."
Margot's heart was pounding. Her hands were shaking. Every instinct she'd cultivated over years of emotional self-preservation was screaming at her to stop this, to pull back, to protect herself.
She took a step forward.
And then she was the one doing the kissing.
Her hands came up to frame Becca's face, pulling her in.
Their mouths met, soft at first, questioning, a brush of lips that asked is this okay?
And then Becca made a sound against her mouth, something between a gasp and a moan, and her hands fisted in the front of Margot's dress, and the question was answered.
This, Margot thought. This is what I've been afraid of.
Not the kiss itself, but what it meant. The surrendering. The letting someone in. The terrifying exhilaration of wanting something she might not get to keep.
Becca's mouth was soft and warm and tasted faintly of the wine they'd had at lunch.
Margot kissed her deeper, tongue sliding against Becca's, learning the shape of her.
Becca responded with a hunger that made Margot's knees weak, pulling her closer, rising up on her toes to change the angle, one hand sliding into Margot's hair and gripping.
They stumbled backward until Becca hit the door, and Margot pressed into her, pinning her there with her body. The full-length contact was overwhelming. Becca's breasts against hers, Becca's hips cradled between her thighs, Becca's warmth seeping through the thin fabric of both their dresses.
"God," Becca breathed against her mouth. "Margot—"
Margot kissed down her jaw, her neck, finding the spot where her pulse hammered beneath the skin. She sucked gently, then harder when Becca's head fell back against the door with a thunk.
"That's—yes, right there—"
Becca's fingers were in her hair now, pulling it loose from its careful style, pins scattering on the floor. Margot didn't care. Couldn't care. Not when Becca was making these small sounds against her ear, not when her own body was thrumming with a need she hadn't let herself feel in years.
"Wait," Becca gasped, pulling back just enough to speak. "Wait, I need to—"
"What?" Margot's voice came out rough, barely recognizable. "What do you need?"
"I need to know this is real. That you're not going to—" Becca's eyes searched her face, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from kissing. "That you're not going to regret this. I can't be someone's experiment, Margot. I've been that before and it—"
"This isn't an experiment."
"How do you know?"
Margot cupped her face, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. She made herself hold Becca's gaze, made herself be present in a way she usually avoided.
"Because I've been thinking about this since that first night. Because I can't stop looking at you. Because every time you touch me, even accidentally, I forget how to breathe." She swallowed hard. "Because I'm terrified, and I'm doing it anyway. That's not an experiment. That's…"
She didn't have a word for what it was. So she kissed Becca instead, slower this time, more deliberate. She tried to put everything she couldn't say into it: I want you and I see you and please don't let this be a mistake.
When they broke apart, Becca was breathing hard. Her hands had found their way under Margot's dress, palms flat against her bare back, and the skin-to-skin contact was making it difficult to think.
"Okay," Becca whispered. "Okay. That was—okay."
"Yeah?"
"Very okay." Her fingers traced up Margot's spine, leaving trails of heat. "Bedroom?"
"Bedroom."
They made it there in a tangle of limbs and stolen kisses. Margot's dress disappeared somewhere in the hallway, pushed down her body without either of them breaking the kiss. The cool air hit Margot's skin and she shivered, but Becca's hands were there immediately, warming her, mapping her.
Becca's dress had a zipper down the back.
Margot found it blindly, tugging it down inch by inch, revealing smooth brown skin that she immediately wanted to taste.
The dress caught on something, Becca's hip, maybe, and they had to stop kissing long enough to untangle it, both of them laughing breathlessly.
"Very smooth," Becca teased.
"Shut up."
Becca laughed and said, "Make me."
Margot did, kissing her hard enough to make them both stumble through the bedroom archway. She walked Becca backward until her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then Becca was falling, pulling Margot down on top of her.
The bed was soft beneath them. Becca's body was softer still, all curves and warmth, her bra a deep burgundy that made her skin glow. Margot braced herself on her elbows and just looked for a moment, drinking her in.
"You're staring," Becca said.
"You're beautiful."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm not flattering you. I'm stating facts." Margot traced a finger along the edge of Becca's bra, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. "You're the most stunning thing I've seen in years. Possibly ever."
"Margot…" Becca's voice trembled.
"I mean it." She lowered her head and kissed the swell of Becca's breast, just above the lace. "Every word."
Becca arched into her, hands finding Margot's hips and pulling her down. The pressure between them made them both gasp. Margot could feel Becca's heart racing against her chest, could feel the heat of her even through their remaining clothes.
"I haven't done this in a while," Margot admitted, lifting her head to meet Becca's eyes. "I might be…"
"It's okay." Becca reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Margot's ear, the gesture unbearably tender. "We'll figure it out. Just tell me what you like."
"I like…" Margot hesitated. She didn't know how to do this part. The asking. The being vulnerable. "I like being in control. Usually. But with you, I think I might like…"
"Letting go?"
The words hit something deep in Margot's chest. "Yes."
Becca's smile was soft, understanding. "Then let go. I've got you."
She sat up, unclasping her own bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. Margot's breath caught. Becca was gorgeous. Full breasts with dark nipples already peaked, warm brown skin that glowed in the afternoon light filtering through the curtains.
"Your turn," Becca said, reaching for the clasp of Margot's bra.
Margot let her. Let her strip away the last barriers, let her look with an appreciation that made Margot feel desired instead of exposed. Then Becca was pulling her down again, and the sensation of skin against skin was electric. Soft and warm and overwhelming.
"God," Becca breathed. "You feel incredible."
They kissed again, deeper now, hands exploring.
Margot learned that Becca liked having her nipples teased: light touches that made her squirm, followed by firmer pressure that made her moan.
Becca learned that Margot's neck was sensitive, that she gasped when Becca bit gently at her collarbone, that she liked having her hair pulled.
They moved by instinct, finding a rhythm that built and built. Becca's thigh pressed between Margot's legs. A sound escaped her, needy and desperate, barely recognizable as her own voice. She ground down against the pressure, and Becca shuddered in answer.
"Margot…" Becca's voice was ragged. "I need… can I…"
"Yes." Margot didn't even know what she was agreeing to. It didn't matter. "Yes, whatever you want, yes."
Becca rolled them over, settling on top with a grace that spoke to experience Margot hadn't expected. She kissed down Margot's body: throat, collarbone, the curve of each breast. She took one nipple into her mouth and sucked, and Margot's back arched off the bed.
"Sensitive," Becca murmured against her skin, and did it again.
By the time Becca's mouth reached her stomach, Margot was trembling. Her hands were fisted in the sheets. She felt like she might fly apart at any moment. Too much sensation, too much want, too much of everything she'd been denying herself.
Becca's fingers hooked into the waistband of Margot's underwear. She looked up, eyes dark with desire.
"Can I?"
"Please."
The fabric slid down her legs and disappeared. Margot was fully naked now, spread out beneath Becca's gaze, more vulnerable than she'd been in years. She should feel exposed. Instead, she was seen. Really seen, in a way that made her chest ache with gratitude so sharp it stung.
Becca kissed her hip bone. Her inner thigh. The sensitive crease where her leg met her body. She was taking her time, building anticipation, and Margot was going to die. She was actually going to die from wanting.
"Becca—"
"I've got you." Becca's breath was hot against her center. "Just feel."
And then her mouth was there, and Margot stopped thinking entirely.
Becca was good at this. Better than good.
She was devastating. She started slow, exploring, learning what made Margot gasp and what made her moan and what made her grab Becca's hair and hold on for dear life.
She genuinely enjoyed it, making sounds of pleasure that vibrated against Margot's sensitive flesh.