Fifty-Four
Mark had been in the shower for nearly forty-five minutes. Alex tied her hair into a messy ponytail and chuckled—he was going to be so pruned-up when he climbed out of there.
His lengthy disappearance had gifted her the chance to let their conversation sink in while exchanging her scratchy blouse and skirt for a much cooler bra-less slip dress. She also dressed the king-sized mattress in one of the large, unused bedrooms with fresh sheets and laid a spare bathrobe on the end of the bed. In the kitchen, she adjusted the air con temperature, left a jar of Nutella on the counter—ready for Mark’s breakfast in the morning—and stuffed Simon’s leftover beer in the fridge. She wanted him to relax, feel comfortable. She wanted to relax and feel comfortable, too, but her mind—and body—had other ideas.
She couldn’t stop hoping: Does his naked presence in my shower mean he’ll end up naked in my bed? Seeing him—hearing his confession, holding him through his tears—made her want to go much further than just sharing a takeout dinner across the breakfast bar. But isn’t it a cheap play, making a move on him? He was so vulnerable earlier. Even if he was willing to climb into bed, he was probably too tired. With the long flight, New York’s heat, and the emotion of the afternoon, it was a miracle Mark was still vertical…
…and still lathering up in her shower.
Oh, God! She leaned on the bar, her thoughts drifting to visions of water trickling down his chest, down his thighs… She closed her eyes. Not helping! Her heart was racing even faster than when she recognized him on the street. The longer he splashed around in there, the greater her desire grew to yank open the shower’s glass door and join him…to feel his lips against hers, feel their softness, their intent as they rediscovered all of her… Lex, just stop!
Four words flashed in her mind—too late for us.
What if the emotional rollercoaster of the past eight months had erased her from his heart, romantically? What if he wanted—needed—to be on his own for a while? Could I blame him? Not really. But embracing him, crying with him, she could no longer avoid the truth: she didn’t want him to be on his own now, for a while, or ever. He said he didn’t want the hectic life he had been leading. He said he wanted his privacy back, to make time for his loved ones. Hopefully, he meant it. She had never stopped loving him and maybe, he still loved her, too, but…how would she survive this evening if he only wanted friendship? What to do?
Freddie’s words echoed in her head: “Today isn’t a dress rehearsal for tomorrow…live in the moment…there is no time for regrets.”
She smiled. Who knew? Freddie Ryan: YouTuber, cheese and onion obsessive…life coach? Cheers, Freddie.
Leaving the safety of the breakfast bar, Alex strode over to the bathroom door. She took a deep breath, and her hand lunged for the door handle as the taps abruptly stopped, plunging the loft into silence. She froze. CRAP! The metal hinges of the shower’s door creaked. Mark was finally on the move.
No, no, NO! What if he stepped out into the living room right then looking for more towels? She couldn’t be caught lurking there.
She tiptoed a few feet away to the bookcase and fumbled with her iPod, sending music to the loft’s sound system. Broods, a band from New Zealand she loved, filled the room with their trippy, indie pop. Make like you’re busy. She ran over to the breakfast bar, and with her back to the bathroom door, started organizing plates and cutlery.
A few minutes later, the door snapped open.
A wave of steam, imbued with the light scent of his cologne, swept into the kitchen. Damp bare feet padded across the hardwood.
Finally.
“Lex?”
Alex turned around.
Mark’s light purple shirt was half-open, exposing a glimpse of his chest. His messy beard? Gone, along with his moustache and sad brown eyes, which now smiled along with his mouth. A clean pair of jeans hung low from his hips. As his fingers buttoned up his shirt, its hem lifted, showing off the black band of his underwear.
Fuck…fuck fuck fuck… Alex caught her breath.
Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he took her in. He slicked his damp hair off his forehead. “Different outfit, Lex? You looked pretty before, but this dress…I might need another shower.”
She blushed, struggling for words. “Thanks.”
Mark caught her stare, his grin growing as he finished fastening his shirt.
The A/C is still on, right? Despite Alex’s slip of a dress, every inch of her was burning up.
“Food should be here any minute.” She turned back to the plates. Who was she kidding? Takeout wouldn’t satisfy her appetite.
Mark strolled over, standing behind her. He was so close. His breath caressed her neck in waves. “Lex…”
She glanced over her shoulder.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
They both flinched, but neither looked away.
Alex weaved on the spot, lost in his eyes…his familiar scent. Stupid food delivery.
“Be right there,” she hollered as she slipped past Mark, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and disappearing through the door. A minute later, she returned, toting a large paper bag with a menu stapled to its top edge.
“Thai?” Scratching his temple, Mark followed her. “Since when?”
“I don’t know, since…May, I guess?” She dropped her purse on the floor near the sofa and set the bag of food on the bar. She tore it open, placing several cartons of noodles, sticky rice, and chicken on the counter. “I’ve grown to like it.”
Mark nudged closer, checking out their food haul. The warmth of his arm pressed against her bare shoulder sparked tingles all down her spine. Spring rolls and chicken satays were the last things on her mind.
“It’s still your fave, isn’t it?” She turned to face him. “Or did your tastes change? Shit, sorry, I should’ve asked…”
He leaned in and swept her bangs to the side of her forehead. “It’s fine, Lex.” His intense gaze left her eyes to savour her mouth. His fingers flirted through her hair, down to her collarbone, towards the dip in her neck.
The gentle sweep of his fingers…she shivered, unable to speak.
His eyes crinkled at the corners again. “I wasn’t sure in the park. You’re still wearing it…”
Her hand grazed the silver chain necklace with its Vespa charm, meeting his fingers. She refused to let go. “I still love it. It means…everything to me.”
Mark licked his lips. “Hop on, hold tight, and remember to enjoy the ride.” He reached into his jeans’ pocket with his free hand, pulling out a slim silver keychain, free of keys.
Alex recognized it immediately and squeezed his hand—his keychain matched the one in her purse: June 5, 2015, their first date on his Vespa, zooming around London, flirting in the summer sunshine.
“I couldn’t bring myself to give it back to you, Lex. I always hoped…”
His words weakened her knees and hastened her heart. Enough of this dance, enough skirting around what she really wanted—Alex knew exactly what to do.
Abandoning her necklace, she grabbed his neck and pulled him in, covering his lips with hers. All the months of hurt, of pretending she had moved on, faded as she welcomed him in. His tongue was familiar and possessive, owning her mouth and proving that no one else mattered. Going deeper, Mark moaned, stuffing the keychain in his pocket and locking his fingers onto her waist, grasping tighter and tighter as he pressed her against the cold stainless-steel fridge.
Its chill stung Alex’s upper back, jolting her forward, firmly against him. She softly whimpered into his mouth, her hands roaming from his jaw into his damp hair and back down again, slipping along his neck and taking possession of his shirt. It didn’t stand a chance. Dragging it quickly from his shoulders, buttons popped as she worked it down his arms to his wrists. The shirt’s cuffs wouldn’t budge. Can’t get the damn thing off!
Mark laughed into their kiss and left her lips. “Looks like we’re gonna need a lot of practice, just sayin’.” He freed his hands from the cuffs and flung the shirt on the countertop with a knowing wink.
Alex’s eyes widened. Mark’s already fit body was leaner, more sculpted. All her fears that the crazy Full Throttle 3 fitness regime would bulk him up like The Rock fell to the floor along with his jeans and her dress, which Mark lifted over her head in one smooth move.
“Oh, Lex…” Dropping her dress, Mark’s hands drifted through her hair. He untied the elastic, releasing her soft waves. He sighed, his hands travelling down her curves, his eyes taking all of her in. “You’re so beautiful. God, what you’re doing to me right now…”
I’m not doing enough! Alex slid her fingers down his firm chest towards his stomach, a path she knew so well. Despite his familiarity, her excitement, she hesitated in the trail of dark hair above his boxer briefs, the soft material stretching with his arousal. “All this time, I’ve missed you…so much…”
“Christ, I’ve missed you.” His thumb grazed her hip, stopping to rest just inside the waistband of her panties. “I thought about you…all the time.”
She stared into his eyes as her hands skimmed downwards. Through the cotton, she felt him stir—hard and eager.
He gasped, his mouth invading hers without mercy, like her kiss held the secret to his survival. Teasing her, his tongue was warm and confident, coaxing Alex to fully trust him again.
She answered by grabbing his hand and leading him towards her bedroom. Memories rushed through her mind: how his body fit hers perfectly, how incredible he felt…would it be the same now? Different? Better? The ache to find out short-circuited all rational thought. So what if this is just a one-night stand? Even if they had no future, she wasn’t about to spoil the present. Decisions, writing, London—everything could wait. All that mattered was this moment, being with the man she loved. She wanted to enjoy Mark now, while he was there, while he was hers.
They barely made it out of the kitchen—it was like Mark read her mind. He swooped her up in his arms, laying her down on the sofa before pressing his whole body against hers. He kissed down her neck to her bare breasts, circling and taunting them with his tongue and fingers while she buried her hands in his hair, pulling, twisting. She inhaled him deeply, dizzy with his scent—with her desire for more. Her moans prompted Mark to break away.
“I love you, Lex,” he whispered between heavy breaths. “I never stopped…I never will.”
Her heart couldn’t soar any higher. It wasn’t too late. His love and the sincere twinkle in his eyes was all she needed. “Don’t fly to Dublin. Stay.”
He bit his lower lip like he was preventing words from escaping.
“Don’t leave tomorrow, or Sunday—don’t go at all. I love you, Mark. Stay here with me?”
A wide smile lit up his face. “Yes…the answer’s always yes!”
He lowered his mouth to meet her lips, but Alex took control, kissing him hard and deep while tugging his boxer briefs away from his hips. Mark grabbed hold of the material and finished what Alex had started, allowing her to shimmy out of her panties. She pulled him down against her, feeling his warm skin, his hardness against her hip, his thigh muscles tensed in anticipation.
“Lex…” Mark winced like Christmas had been cancelled. “I don’t have a condom. We could just—”
A quick kiss on the lips and her hand dove to her purse on the floor. A feverish rustle…and her fingers reappeared with the foil-wrapped prize. She smirked. “Always ‘Be Prepared’—once a Girl Scout…”
Mark grinned and made quick work, putting on the condom and easing himself gently back on top of her. He tenderly traced her lips with his thumb, the want in his eyes matching hers. “Lex, it’s always been you…”
Feeling his body weigh her down…wrapped in his warmth, immersed in his breath, Alex’s hands slipped down Mark’s back. A trembling breath left her lungs. “Thank you, for finding me…”
A warm tear trickled down her cheek. His finger lovingly swept it away.
Kissing her softly, Mark pushed inside her. Alex inhaled sharply, rocking with him, falling into a rhythm she knew so well and had desperately missed. Eight months of heartache, loneliness, and misunderstanding were released with each caress, each kiss, their movements as one. Alex, The Girl Who Waited…was waiting no more.