Connected (27 page)

My head falls back as I suck in a breath. The lyrics from Robin Thicke’s Sex Therapy echo from the other room and River sings me his own version of the song. “It’s your body, we’ll go slow if you want or as hard as you want to.”

Moving slowly, precisely, intently, he momentarily stops kissing my neck. “Dahlia, you feel so good.”

Gazing at me as his hips continue to slowly roll, he kisses one cheek then the other, kisses my nose, then my eyelids in turn. He moves toward my mouth, reaches under me, and pushes me upwards allowing himself to plunge deeper inside. It’s much more intense.

“
Oh God, don’t stop,” I cry as I wrap my legs around his waist, our bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. Moaning himself, he starts to pick up the pace as he grabs my hand and pulls it to his heart.

The moonlight is luminescing through the windows as I moan louder now, feeling the buildup approaching from within me again. And when I look into his face I know he’s there too.

Opening his mouth, halting his breathing, I feel him start to explode. Groaning low and intensely, he stills for a beat as I scream out in pleasure from the mind-blowing orgasm that rivets through my body. Cupping his chin with my free hand, I pull him to me as every fiber of my being tingles from my head to my toes. As the intensity of our kiss calms, our lips rest together. Panting against each other, he gently trails his fingers up my cheek and wipes my hair from my face before resting his forehead to mine. “You take my breath away.”

As our breathing becomes more controlled, he gently rolls off me and lies by my side. Removing the condom, he ties it in a knot, and tosses it to the floor alongside the unused one. Then he pulls me into his arms. Caressing my cheek, he turns to look at me with his gleaming green eyes. “That was amazing, definitely worth the wait.”

I nod my head and words momentarily escape me.
Oh my God, why didn’t we do that before?
But I remember why. Ben. I think about how glad I am that I didn’t succumb to my desire for River that night at the bar because I unequivocally know I would never have recovered from it, from him, and even now I’m not so sure I ever will.

Needing to rid my mind of my inability to see this for what it probably is, a one-night-stand, I stare back into his eyes and say, “If your definition of amazing is incredibly hot sex with an equally incredible partner, I definitely agree.”

He looks at me with a smirk on his face that says more than words possibly could.

With my arm draped over his chest, I lightly stroke his smooth skin as he rubs circles on my back. I glance up at him, wanting to clear the room of the throws of passion that are still knocking at my door and say, “Was that Robin Thicke I heard playing from your phone?”

Rolling onto his side, his eyes meet mine as he circles his finger around my ear lobe, tugging on it before leaning in to kiss just the corner of my lips. Then raising an eyebrow, the biggest grin crosses his face. “I’m willing to explore your naughty side. Are you willing to let me unleash mine?” He follows his own adorable lyrics with a wink.

As I laugh at his half-hearted attempt to once again revise the words of a song, he grabs my hips and a new hunger surfaces between us. He rolls on top of me, and I think this time we aren’t taking it slow
.

SAY

Don’t have any doubts

Don’t have any fears

Because in the end

It’s better to say too much

Then not to say anything at all.

Having stayed awake most of the night, and seeing a glimmer of light through the window from the rising dawn, we lie quietly together, entangled in a mess of sheets. My head is on his chest with one of my legs wrapped around his, and I’m trailing my fingers down his smooth body as he nuzzles his nose in my hair, caressing my lower back.

Never having had a one-night stand, I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect this. Plenty of my friends have experienced casual sex. They’ve always described it as a quick fuck, sometimes followed by a sleepover. Either way, they’ve usually said both people wanted out the door as soon as possible.

And yet, in this moment, I don’t want our time to end. Last night was amazing. River and I were together in a way I’ve never experienced before, not just the sex and the multiple orgasms, but also his constant tender touches, the heat I felt everywhere surging throughout my body, his softly spoken words, and just our utter awareness. I find myself hoping that he asks me for my phone number and we see each other again.

Wondering if all new sexual encounters are this satisfying, I try to keep in mind that Ben and I were together for so long that our lovemaking became routine; dare I say somewhat expected. I also remind myself I haven’t experienced a man’s touch in a long while, so of course my sexual re-awakening thrills me.

Knowing I shouldn’t be comparing Ben to River, I do it anyway. I thought my sex life with Ben was fulfilling, but after what I experienced last night, it seems like it may have been a little empty. I think about how wrong it is of me to compare this very much alive and breathing man to Ben, who is no longer here on earth living freely.

Am I always going to make comparisons to Ben? I already know the answer is yes. But usually anytime I compare anything to Ben, Ben is always better. If I make stir-fry, I think: Ben made it better. If I read an article in the paper, I think: Ben would have written it better. Now I’m comparing sex, and I know it’s wrong. I have to stop this wave of thinking. I have to remember Ben was my life, but is no longer here, but River is. I also have to remember River is someone I allowed to seduce me for the sheer pleasure of having amazing casual sex.

I’m failing miserably at trying to channel the casual sex, one-night stand mentality because continually scrolling through my head are all of River’s endearing qualities. Qualities that include: his sexiness, his charm, his concern, his playfulness, and his awareness—our awareness of each other, he of me, and me of him. Seems odd to feel this connected to someone who I may never see again. Even now in the lull of our aftermath, I’m absorbing the sensation of his calm and relaxed breathing, and I know he’s sensing my satisfaction.

Trying to make myself stay focused, I forcefully return my thoughts to the list of things I need to do this morning. Things that include: finishing the interview, saying goodbye to River, getting to the airport, and boarding the plane destined to take me to the place so far away from this bliss.

His attention is interfering with my plans. It’s challenging my ability to focus. Thinking about the way he reacts to me and interacts with me; the way he makes me feel like he really cares is clouding my judgment. But then I remember my Google search. River appearing just as attentive in picture after picture with different women on his arm and that brings me back to my original casual sex thought.

Sitting up, I attempt to slip out of bed but River pulls me down and crushes me to the mattress as he leans over me. “Where you going?” he asks, smirking, his voice sounding raspy, groggy from lack of sleep.

With an equally raspy-sounding morning voice, I smile at him and gaze into his eyes, while indicating first the bathroom, then the window. “To the bathroom and then to watch the sunrise from this beautiful view.”

As he nods his head in response, I wonder how it’s possible that someone can look even sexier in the morning. Then he kisses me softly on the nose and releases me. “Coffee or tea?”

Pouting my lips and furrowing my brows, I wave my finger from head to toe, pointing to my very disheveled self. “Do I look like a girl who drinks tea in the morning?” And for added drama I say, “And please God, don’t tell me you drink tea!”

Leaning back on the headboard, he puts his hands behind his head, his naked body shadowed by the faint glow of the bathroom light. He’s shaking his head and chuckling as he responds. “I’m not sure you need to know that information. Right now I’m still trying to figure out if you’re a stalker.”

I slip on his button-down shirt. I laugh at the words he just spoke that mimic my own from so long ago. Shaking my head, I turn and see him laughing just as hard. Oh yeah,
add makes me laugh often
to my list of endearing River qualities.

Entering the bathroom with none of my toiletries in hand, I sit for a while and just think. Having decided to at least wash my face before going to get my bag, I look in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair. Then I see his toothbrush.
Why not?

Coming out of the bathroom, I grab my phone and give Aerie a quick call.

“
Why haven’t you called me back? I must have called you ten times,” Aerie answers the phone as her greeting, and I know a quick call is out the window. I was hoping she’d still be asleep and I’d just leave her a message.

In a low tone I answer, “I’m sorry. I’m calling you back now.”

“
Dahlia, where are you? Why are you talking so low?”

“
I’m in Las Vegas. You know that.”

“
No. Where are you right now?”

Knowing it’s easier to just tell her, I whisper, “In his suite.”

“
River’s?! You are? Really! And?”

“
Umm . . . Well it’s kind of a long story and I will tell you later but,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully. Then I just blurt out the rest. “We went out to dinner and then I spent the night with him.”

In a cautious tone, she says, “Are you telling me you had sex with River Wilde?”

“
Yes Aerie, that is what I’m telling you.”

“
You’re shitting me,” she says, her voice full of skepticism.