Chapter 23
We get back to the hotel in the middle of the afternoon and mutually agree to rest for a couple of hours.
I get a bottle of sparkling water and a book and settle on one of the lounges on the balcony since it’s both warm and shady out there.
I can’t help but be happy when, a few minutes later, Wes appears to stretch out on the lounge beside me.
He also has a bottle of water plus his Kindle instead of a paperback book.
“What are you reading?” I ask, leaning over to look at the screen with no shame at all.
As far as I’m concerned, books are fair game for snooping.
I would have guessed some pretentious literary tome, but he’s reading a recent epic fantasy book, one in a long series. I’m reading a cute cozy mystery, so we chat for a while about our books.
Then we start reading.
I make it about thirty minutes before I fall asleep again.
I sleep for over an hour, which is very unusual for me. I’ve never been a napper, and usually I can’t manage more than a five-minute doze.
But today it feels like the day has moved on without me when I finally open my eyes.
Wes is no longer in the lounge beside me, which gives me an anxious flutter, like I’ve been lazing about while he’s been out and about and doing things.
“I’m awake!” I call out even though the balcony door is closed.
“What?” The voice is muffled until Wes opens the door. “Hold on a minute. I’m on the phone.”
Of course he is.
Wes would never accidentally fall asleep on his wedding weekend like me.
He’s probably been busy the whole time, doing business in there.
It doesn’t occur to me that it’s Sunday and there’s not much business he could be doing until I gather my stuff and go inside.
He is on the phone but not his cell phone. The hotel phone. And he’s standing next to the desk with his empty water bottle and Kindle next to him.
He’s still dressed in the khakis and camp shirt he’s been wearing all day.
Listening to the call, I realize he’s called down to the spa and is asking about whether they can fit us in again today.
They can.
I’m sure they’re giving us special treatment because it wouldn’t normally be so easy to reserve spots at a place like this.
I’m standing right in front of him when Wes hangs up the phone. “They can work us in if you want. Massages or something fancier if you prefer.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks for checking. What have you been doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I fell asleep for ages!”
“It wasn’t that long. I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You weren’t?”
He cocks his head to the side. “No. I read and then dozed off a little while too.”
I perk up. “You did?”
“Yes, I did.” He laughs and pulls me into a half hug. “Only you, Ella, would get all anxious and guilty about taking a nap.”
The spa and dinner are just as good as they were yesterday. Once again, we eat at the dining table on the balcony, and the view and the evening air are incredible.
Tonight I feel a lot more rested.
I’m not going to fall asleep.
We finally get to have sex.
We sure as hell better, as far as I’m concerned.
I take another bath since it’s relaxing and I can make sure I’m fully clean, shaved, and fresh-smelling.
Then I put on another pretty nightgown—just as unsexy as the one I wore yesterday. Except this one is white with a little ruffle on the neckline and hem.
I don’t put on my bathrobe this evening.
Wes is on the couch again, working on his laptop, so I walk out so he can see me.
He glances over once and then focuses back on his laptop.
After a moment, as if his mind has caught up, he looks again.
Then again.
Then he stares.
He’s flushed slightly, and so am I.
I have no idea what to say, so I don’t say anything.
“So it’s on?” he asks.
Amusement bubbles out of me. “It’s on.”
He closes his laptop and jumps off the couch with remarkable speed. “I’m going to take a quick shower so I don’t stink. If you haven’t changed your mind by the time I come out, it’s definitely on.”
I don’t change my mind.
But I’m nervous and excited and jittery with a momentum that’s both emotional and physical, so I can’t stay still enough to get into bed. I pace from the mirror—to make sure my reflection is still pretty—to the window and then back again. Over and over again until I hear the shower turn off.
He definitely rushes through the process in there. It’s only six minutes before he’s coming out.
He’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs. His body is lean and firm and attractive—long arms and legs, a mostly flat belly, and a scattering of hair on his chest and leading down beneath his waistband.
I take a ragged breath.
“Still good to go?” he asks, holding himself motionless.
“I’m good to go.”
“Thank God. I might have exploded with lust if you’d said no.”
That makes me laugh, which is a relief.
Maybe we can do this while still feeling like ourselves.
Because that’s what I want. It’s not just his body I want. It’s him.
All of him.
“So do you want me to try to be romantic?” he asks. “Do you want me to go slow and gentle? Or I could research some creative moves or dirty talk? If that kind of thing turns you on.”
He’s making me laugh on purpose. I walk toward where he’s standing. “I don’t want any of that.”
“So what do you want?”
“I want it to feel… natural between us.”
“Ah. Got it. So you’ll be snippy with nerves and I’ll be clammed up and tense?”
“No!” I’m smiling as I reach up to his face. “Why don’t we kiss, and then we’ll see how we feel about the rest of it.”
He takes my head in both hands. “Good plan.”
Then he kisses me.
And I kiss him back.
I believed there was a chance, after anticipating and secretly yearning for so long, that the real thing might be disappointing. Good, sure, but maybe not quite as mind-blowing as it always was in my imagination.
After all, real life isn’t fantasy, and it’s not supposed to be.
So maybe having sex with Wes might be a minor letdown.
But no need to worry.
It’s not.