She supposed this wasn’t the kind of party where you made small talk, anyway. It was the kind where you passed out on one of the dusty couches, or threw yourself into a sweaty mass of dancers-or you did what she’d come here to do.
She could always go home, she guessed. Call a taxi, get out of here, escape. Forget this night had ever happened, forget about the supposed fresh start, about what she’d been planning to do. Save it for some other time.
The place was a skanky mess.
Adam had morphed into a drunken idiot.
But Beth had waited long enough to know that perfection wasn’t coming-tonight was just going to have to do.
And maybe finding the keg first wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Think we can go somewhere a bit more… private?” Kaia whispered to Kane, running a hand down the small of his back.
“Say no more.”
They threaded their way through the crowd in the lobby, away from the flickering light and the echoing music. Up the stairs, down a long, dark, narrow hallway, ignoring the shadowy shapes pressed against the walls, the bodies writhing together. Into a small, dark room at the end of the hall, the faded drapes drawn, allowing a slash of moonlight to cut through the room. It lit Kaia’s hands as she slowly unbuttoned Kane’s shirt. Their bodies remained in shadow, figures silhouetted against the night.
“Not quite the penthouse suite,” Kane admitted ruefully, his fingers expertly unhooking her bra as they stumbled together toward the bed.
“Not quite.” Kaia lay back and pulled him down on top of her, pressing herself against his tight body, relishing the heavy weight bearing down on her. “But it’ll do.” And so would Kane. He wasn’t the catch he imagined himself to be-but he was hot, he was cocky, and, most importantly, he was there. Sometimes Kaia needed a challenge-but sometimes she just needed a break.
She pulled him toward her, closed her eyes, and let herself go.
Along with copious amounts of alcohol, Kane had also supplied the party with two wooden barrels filled with condoms, positioned considerately just inside the door.
As Adam blundered off in search of more to drink, Beth had surreptitiously grabbed one and slipped it into her purse-and then, on second thought, she’d grabbed a handful more.
Now, an hour further into the night, her bold act was beginning to seem like a total waste. They were still down in the lobby amidst a group of Adam’s drunken teammates; Beth’s head was throbbing, and as Adam regaled a cluster of admirers with a story of last year’s basketball triumph, he leaned against her heavily, as if without her support he would drop to the ground.
“Adam, let’s take off,” she whispered urgently, when he finally stopped talking.
“You wanna go home?” he slurred. “Party’s just starting. Right, guys?”
The “guys,” whose shunted-aside dates all looked about as nonplussed as Beth felt, let out a hearty cheer of support.
“Not home,” she explained in a low voice. “Upstairs.”
“She wants to go upstairs!” he crowed to the crowd. “Lez go, honey. You want me, you got me.”
Irritated and humiliated-but knowing how hard it had been to prepare herself for this night and determined to finally go through with it-Beth allowed Adam to shepherd her into the dark bowels of the hotel, where they finally found an unoccupied room and slipped inside.
“Beth,” he said, seeming to sober up a bit now that he was away from the noise and the people and the stench of beer, “I feel like shit. Maybe we should just head home.”
“I don’t think you want to go home yet, Adam. This is your lucky day,” she said, trying to sound more brazen than she felt. Beth had never had to make a first move in her life, and she had no idea what to do. But how hard could it be? All guys ever wanted was sex, any time, all the time, right? So she just needed to let him know that a new option had been added to the menu, and hopefully he’d do the rest.
“I want you, Adam,” she said in what she hoped was a sexy voice. “Now.”
She pushed him down on the bed, and he landed with a thud, knocking his head against the wooden headboard.
Oops.
“Jesus, are you trying to kill me?” he shouted, rubbing the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She hopped into the bed, kissing the bruise gently. “This isn’t going the way I wanted it to.”
“What isn’t?” he asked in confusion.
“This. Tonight. Right now,” she told him, kissing him again, more urgently.
“What’s right now?”
Why couldn’t he just get it? Why was he making this so hard for her?
“Right now is when-when I tell you that I’m finally ready,” Beth admitted. She bit the inside of her cheek and nervously waited for him to say something. Who knows-maybe he didn’t even want her anymore. Maybe that’s what all this had been about.
He sat up, couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but reached out a hand to touch her cheek, as if trying to read her expression.
“Ready? For…?”
She nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” And she kissed him, and he kissed her back, eagerly, hungrily, and they rolled over on the bed together, drinking each other in, their bodies lost in each other, and then-they stopped.
Beth tensed, her back clenched and her muscles stiffening, as they always did, just before she reached the point of no return. He pulled away, and she lay on her back, breathing quickly, glad it was too dark for him to see the tears that were leaking from her tightly closed eyes.
“Beth?” came his warm voice in the darkness. “Beth, are you sure you’re ready for this?”
No.
No.
“Yes.”
She groped for her purse on the night table, pulled out one of the condoms, and tossed it to him.
“I mean, we’re in love, right?” she asked. “I love you, you love me, we’re adults. This is the right thing to do.” It came out sounding like a question.
There was a long pause, and then, “Yeah, we’re in love,” he agreed. And he sounded almost sure.
“I just-I just need a minute,” she promised him. “Then I’ll be ready.”
He reached over and found her hand, and she clenched it tightly, and they lay side by side on the musty bed. She stared up at the cracked ceiling and breathed deeply, in and out, picturing his body lying next to hers, so close, and how it would be to have him inside of her, to be with him, to lose herself in him. To finally let herself go.
She tried to unclench her muscles, reminded herself that she loved him, she wanted him-and she did, so much that it terrified her. For if she let that wave of emotion, of pleasure, sweep her away, how would she ever find her way back?
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She had to do this, and she had to do it now-because one thing she knew, one thing was certain: She didn’t want to lose him.
“I’m ready,” she whispered to herself. “Adam? I’m ready,” she said louder.
There was no response, and his hand was still.
“Adam?”
She rolled over on her side, kissed his cheek, his lips, then propped herself up, her face suspended a few inches from his. His still, peaceful face. Eyes closed. Breath slow and even.
And then-a snore.
Beth flopped down again on her back, next to him.
Unbelievable.
She had been dressed like a fairy-tale princess-and was trapped in the wrong story. In her story, Prince Charming decorated the room with a thousand candles, took her in his arms, and sweetly, gently, took her away with him. In her story, a handsome boy and a beautiful girl danced the night away at the ball and swept off into the sunset. They swore their everlasting love to each other. They lived happily ever after.