Unveiled (One Fairy Tale Wedding Book 3) Page 7
She let out a breath of relief. “Well, at least I’m not the only one. It might be just that I’m not any good at casual sex. I don’t… I don’t usually have it.”
“Me either. I’m not good at it either.”
She twisted her hands together until she realized what she was doing. Then she released them. “And the truth is… the truth is…”
He leaned forward. “What’s the truth, honey?”
She sucked in a breath at the endearment. And it gave her courage enough to admit in a hoarse whisper, “It didn’t really feel casual to me.”
Timothy’s face relaxed. “Me either. It didn’t feel casual to me either. And honestly…”
When he didn’t finish, she prompted, “Honestly what?” Her heart was racing now—with excitement rather than fear.
“I really want to do it again,” he rasped.
“You do?” Her voice squeaked embarrassingly, but she was too thrilled to care.
“Oh yeah.”
“Me too.”
He groaned softly as he pulled her toward him, kissing her hard and deep. He stepped her back until she was up against the desk, the edge of it poking into her from behind. In almost no time, she was opening her mouth to his tongue and clawing at the jacket to his tux.
Desire seemed to have overtaken both of them without warning because he was just as hot and urgent as she was. He was already hard against her, pushing the bulge of his erection against her middle as he kissed her.
“Do you want to do this right now?” he mumbled against her lips after a minute.
“Yes. Yes, please. Just don’t mess up my hair.”
He laughed low and husky as he helped her pull up her skirt and prop up on the desk. The height was just about right for him, so she fumbled with undoing his pants and pulling out his erection.
“Do you have another condom in there?” he asked, indicating the clutch she’d brought with her.
“Yeah.” She pulled it out, and he took it from her hand, and together they freed his erection and rolled the condom on.
It took less than a minute before he was nudging against her entrance. She wasn’t as wet as she’d been last night, but she was already deeply aroused. She wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her, and she moaned in satisfaction as he edged his way in.
They stayed still for a moment, her legs wrapped around him, their foreheads leaning against each other’s, him sheathed inside her.
“I love this,” she whispered, surprised by the breathy admission.
“Me too,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against her mouth. “Me too, honey.”
He started to move then, thrusting in short, choppy rolls of his hips. She held on with her arms and legs and was soon swept away by the sensations. Her gasps turned to whimpers and then to little sobs as the pleasure tightened inside her.
Timothy was losing control quickly. She could feel it in the tension, the urgency of his body. She didn’t want him to come before she did, so she slid a hand down under her panties—which he’d just moved aside to enter her—and rubbed her clit as he pushed against her.
That was all it took. An orgasm broke inside her, and she moaned uninhibitedly as it washed over her.
Timothy came almost immediately afterward, huffing until he froze on a choked exclamation, his face twisting with pleasure.
They stayed wrapped up together until the tremors had worked through them, and then he finally eased himself out of her and stepped back.
She was panting as she lowered her feet back to the floor. Her knees buckled, so she leaned against the desk for support as he took care of the condom.
He gave her a naughty little smile as he fastened his pants, and she couldn’t help but return it as she smoothed down her skirt.
It was a little wrinkled. No help for it. But she didn’t think it looked too bad.
Her lipstick would have to be reapplied, but otherwise she was in a decent shape.
“That was… unexpected.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But good.”
“Definitely good.” He looked warm and relaxed and as sexy as anything she’d ever seen in his tux and slightly flushed cheeks.
“I’m glad I came over then.”
“Me too.”
She fixed her lipstick, and he smoothed down his hair and buttoned his jacket. Then they were ready to go down.
The wedding ceremony was lovely, and the reception was extravagant and beautiful. Madison tried to focus on the celebration, but mostly her mind kept screaming at her that she’d just had sex again with Timothy.
It had been amazing.
Better than amazing.
It was nice that he wanted to have sex with her again.
But she still didn’t know how he felt.
Five
At the reception, Madison was briefly distracted from her own confusion by talking to Charlie about her romantic turmoil. It made her feel strangely better—that she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t work things out.
Charlie was planning to try, however, so that meant Madison needed to try too. She’d made a little progress earlier, but she still hadn’t confronted what was bothering her head-on.
When the dancing at the reception started, Timothy got up to lead her to the floor without saying a word. She couldn’t help but love how it felt in his arms, swaying against him, knowing that everyone could see them like this, would assume that they were together.
She felt like she was his, but she wasn’t.
The reality kept nagging at her as they danced until she couldn’t think of anything else.
She needed to say something, do something. Timothy was right about her. Her friends were right. She’d lived too long hiding behind other people’s needs, veiling her own wants and needs from the world—and from herself.
She didn’t want to do that anymore.
But how was she supposed to address this particular issue without just blurting out that she was crazy about Timothy.
They’d only had sex twice. It was far too early to admit to having feelings. Most guys would run away terrified if a woman did something like that to them, and Timothy had more reason than most to be hesitant.
She felt emotionally trapped, and it made her feel restless and jittery. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist that evening, but Timothy was unusually quiet himself, so he didn’t appear to mind.
When the reception petered out, she and Timothy seemed to decide at the same time that it was time to go. They went up to their floor together, and when they reached the room, Madison opened her mouth to say something, address the jumble of feelings in her chest.
No words came out.
Timothy had stopped too, his eyes soft on her face. Without speaking, he reached out to take her hand and gently pulled her into his room.
They didn’t have sex. They just went to bed together. He held her in his arms until she fell asleep.
She loved it. She loved all of it.
But she still wanted to say something, ask something, that she couldn’t get out.
***
The next morning, Madison slept in later than the day before. She’d had two very late nights and extremely emotional days, and it finally caught up with her. It was almost nine when she opened her eyes to discover she was still in Timothy’s bed.
She was wearing one of his T-shirts and her panties, and her pretty dress was draped over a chair. She felt groggy and befuddled and so confused she sat up straight in bed.
Timothy was sitting at the desk with his laptop, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. They were blue flannel with purple, big-eyed sheep on them because Jenny had picked them out for him.
He looked over at her when she sat up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You popped up like something bit you. Did you have one of those memories that attack you?”
“No. I was just… disoriented. I can’t believe I slept so late. I never sleep late.”
“Are you grading papers over there?”
He chuckled. “Just finishing up the last one.”
“Oh. Good.”
“We’ve got a couple of hours before we need to check out.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I can order us some room service if you’re hungry.”
“Oh.”
“Good?” His eyebrows arched dryly.
She gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”
He reached for the phone. “What do you want?”
“Oh anything is fine. It doesn’t matter.”
He frowned. “Are we really going to have to have this conversation about breakfast?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about and exactly why he was giving her that disapproving look. She was doing it again—acting like what she wanted didn’t really matter. “Waffle,” she said with a little smile. “I might go over to my room to take a shower before it comes.”
“You can use my shower if you want,” he said, starting to dial the phone.
That seemed reasonable to her since she didn’t really want to walk across the hall in his T-shirt. She went to the bathroom, found the pleasant-smelling body wash, shampoo and conditioner in little bottles that Timothy hadn’t touched, and took them into the shower with her.
It had been a perfectly fine morning. Unusual for her, but nothing bad or upsetting or even particularly emotional. It was all fine, and she thought she was in a more reasonable mood than she’d been the evening before.
But as the hot water sprayed down on her, she burst into tears.
It took her a while to figure out why, but she did eventually. This was so close to what she wanted—so close to the way she wanted to be with Timothy. It was almost what she wanted.
But not quite. Not everything.
Maybe it was unreasonable to expect to be in a full-fledged relationship after one weekend together, but she’d known Timothy most of her life, and she’d loved him for almost a year.
She couldn’t do this partway. It wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t what she wanted.
And Timothy wasn’t offering her everything.
All he’d offered her was sex, and he hadn’t even clarified whether it would last past this weekend.
She managed to pull herself together before she turned off the water, but she was tired and drained as she dried off.
She put on the white robe the hotel provided and wrapped the towel around her wet hair. She checked her eyes in the mirror, but they didn’t look bloodshot or anything. Pasting a smile on her face, she opened the door and went back into the room.
Timothy had closed his laptop and was just sitting in the chair at the desk, staring at a blank space in the air.
“There’s great water pressure here,” she said cheerfully.
He blinked and raised his eyes to look at her. “Yeah.”
His expression was strangely blank, and it unnerved her, so she distracted herself by saying, “I’m going to dry my hair.”
She found the hair dryer under the sink in a fabric pouch, plugged it in, and finger combed her hair as she dried.
She couldn’t do a real blowout without her brush, but she was mostly just wanting something to do.
Irrationally, she felt tears welling up behind her eyes again as she worked on her hair. She fought them back, focusing on the motion of her hands.
She was focusing so much she gave a little shriek when someone was suddenly behind her, reaching over to unplug the hairdryer. “What are you doing?” she demanded, turning to look at Timothy with a jerk of her body.
“You’re not happy.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was sharper than normal because she’d been surprised and because his question had hit so close to the truth.
His eyes were knowing, very sober. “You’re not happy.”
“I am too happy.” She was arguing just to argue, and she heard it as she said the words. So she corrected, “I’m really fine.”
“Are you?”
“What about you? Are you happy? Are you fine?”
“No,” he said, a rough texture in his voice. “I’m not either of those things.”
Her heart dropped at his admission, and she suddenly saw what was going to happen. He wasn’t happy, and he knew she wasn’t either. He was going to call their fling a huge mistake and say they had to go back to the way they’d been.
And she didn’t want that.
She didn’t want it at all.
She opened her mouth to say exactly that when a phone rang across the room.
It was Timothy’s ringtone, and he walked over to look at the screen. “It’s Jenny.”
“Answer it,” Madison said immediately. What she’d been going to say could wait.
With a sigh, Timothy connected the call and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was still wearing his big-eyed sheep pajama pants. His feet were bare, and his hair was mussed, and Madison had never wanted anyone in the world as much as she wanted him right now.
“Hey, Jenny,” he said, a smile in his voice but not on his face. “How are you?”
Madison couldn’t hear the other end of the call, but Jenny evidently asked him a whole series of questions because Timothy mostly answered with “yes” and “of course” and “That’s right.”
Madison waited it out, hoping the girl was having a good weekend and that nothing that happened between her and Timothy would hurt Jenny in even the slightest of ways.
After a few minutes, Timothy stood up and walked over to where Madison was standing. He handed her the phone without speaking.
Madison made sure she had a smile on her face before she spoke her greeting. “Hi, sweetie! How are you?”
Jenny didn’t answer the question. Instead, she asked, “Why is Daddy not happy?”
“He is, Jenny. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“He doesn’t sound happy. He sounds like he’s pretending.”
“I don’t think he’s pretending.”
“Yes, he is. I know Daddy. Did something bad happen?”
“No, nothing bad happened at all. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“He’s not happy, and I’m not there to help him. Would you please help him, Madison?”
The sweet, earnest question nearly did Madison in. She swallowed hard and managed to say, “Of course I will. But there’s really nothing for you to worry about.”
“You’re coming home later today?”
“Yes. Later today. We’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too, Jenny. So much.”
Timothy’s eyes had that urgent look again when Madison handed him back the phone. He said his own goodbyes to Jenny, and then he ended the call.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“She’s worried,” Timothy said at last.
“She thinks you’re unhappy.”
“And I know you’re unhappy.”
Madison took a little breath. “I guess having a fling doesn’t really work when you’re in our situation.”
“No,” he agreed. “It really doesn’t.”
She nodded and swallowed again. “I don’t want things to get messed up between us.”
“We won’t let that happen. What do you… what do you need me to do?”
The question hurt—a lot. He was being his kind, considerate self—and making it clear they could never be together.
She couldn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t answer at all.
Timothy made a frustrated sound in his throat. “You’re really not going to tell me what you want, even now?”
Madison jerked her head up, gasping in indignation. “What? What? You’re exasperated with me?”
“Yes, I’m exasperated. You’re not happy, but you’re not going to tell me what it would take to make you happy.”
“You didn’t ask what would
make me happy. You asked what I needed you to do.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Don’t you know the difference? What the hell do you expect me to say?”
“The truth. I expect you to tell me the truth. I expect you to tell me what you want. I expect you to finally pull back the veil and show me who you really are, what’s really in your heart.”
“What’s the point of pulling the veil, of saying the truth if I can never have what I want?” She bit the question out, at the end of her patience.
He stared at her silently for a moment. Then, “Why do you think you can’t have it?”
“Because I can’t!” she burst out. “I can’t. You don’t understand. You’ve never understood what the problem really is. I don’t want a fling. I don’t just want to feel good. I want your heart. Your heart. And you’ve already given it away.”
To her horror, she was crying again, tears streaming down her cheeks. She brushed them away only to see Timothy staring at her in obvious shock.
He couldn’t believe what she’d just said.
She couldn’t believe it either.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I know things can never go back to the way they were now. I know it’s always going to be awkward. But you asked. You kept asking. And that’s the truth I could never say.”
Since she couldn’t seem to stop crying, she had no choice but to leave the room.
She hurried to the door and then closed it behind her. She’d reached her own door when Timothy caught her.
He’d evidently followed her, and he must have run to catch her so fast.
When he grabbed her shoulder to turn her around, she gasped. “What are you doing?”
He stepped her back against the wall to the hallway. “Exactly how blind can you be?”
“What?” she breathed, baffled and disoriented and suddenly realizing she was still wearing nothing but his T-shirt and her panties.
“How can you not see—how can you not know that I’m completely in love with you?”
“What?” she breathed again, more urgent this time. She heard the words he’d said, but they didn’t make sense.
Nothing made sense.
Timothy cupped her cheek with one of his hands. “I’ve been in love with you for months now. Completely head over heels for you. But I’ve been trying to make myself hold back because you didn’t seem to feel the same way.”