As we leave the restaurant, River takes me out to the terrace to watch the craziness below us. We talk about what we see and the beauty of the night. We are both leaning over the stone wall gazing below when he steps back and turns me to face him. He puts one hand on the small of my back and the other behind my neck. “You are so beautiful,” he says then he kisses me again, and just like before, it’s in a way that I have never been kissed. There is emotion, compassion, and lust all wrapped together in his kiss. The kiss is slow, full of passion. Our mouths move in sync with our tongues, but unlike before, he doesn’t press harder or move faster. He goes slower and the kisses turn into burning desire. As our lips part, he doesn’t stop. He whispers something I can’t hear. I think I might be purring. I know I am breathless. I am almost panting as he starts kissing my neck, nipping and gently biting his way up to my ear where he whispers, “I want you so much.”
I pull him to me, crushing my lips to his. He responds instantly. He licks my top lip then sucks on it; he does the same to my bottom lip before locking his mouth on mine. He moves his hands down my backside and presses me closer to him so I can feel his hard body on mine. He slides his tongue over the roof of my mouth, and I know I’m moaning as I step back.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I manage to say breathlessly.
He shakes his head, and his fully dimpled grin returns as he, just as breathless, responds. “I wasn’t just kissing you. I was also whispering in your mouth,” he says lightly laughing. “Do you want lessons? Because I might be able to swing something for you.”
Laughing together now, both out of breath and both panting, he laces our hands together and looks at me. “I want to tell you something before we go,” he says, pulling me back into his body. “Do you know my band’s song Once in a Lifetime?”
I nod my head because I know that song very well. It’s one of the ones I used to listen repeatedly on my iPod.
“I wrote that song about you. About meeting you that night.”
Smiling, while trying to swallow the emotion that was lumped in my throat, I manage to verbalize only a fraction of the feelings welling deep within me; the true appreciation of being someone’s muse and just the absolute awesomeness and gratitude that he wrote a song about me. My words are short and clipped, and I don’t care anything about a one-night stand or not. “You wrote a song about me? Really?” It’s all I can say before throwing my arms around his neck and crushing my lips to his. I kiss him hard before whispering, in my most seductive voice, “Take me back to your hotel. Now!”
River sighs as he stares at me for a few seconds, blinking his eyes before saying, “You’re just so beautiful.” He grabs my hand even tighter, if that is possible, and leads me quickly down the strip. In our haste, we abandon the idea of a cab because at this time of night, we can honestly walk to the hotel faster than a cab could get us there. As we walk, I notice he has lost that sway of a walk that I admire. Instead he’s walking fast, with purpose, and I’m following his lead, finding it hard to keep up as we stride into the night.
Reaching the hotel lobby, he sits me in a chair and tells me to stay put as he walks over to the front desk and has a short conversation with the clerk. The lobby is quiet with just a few people coming and going. I don’t even know what time it is. I watch him as I sit back in the chair and think, God he is so hot.
I see him hand the clerk a bunch of cash and wonder what the money is for; does he pay his bills in cash instead of credit card? As he walks back over to me, he’s smiling and I melt again. He reaches for my hand, pulling me out of the comfortable chair, and leads me through the lobby.
The closer we get to the elevator the more nervous I become. My breathing accelerates as memories of Ben flutter in and out of my head, and my stomach starts to flip-flop with thoughts of River.
My mind is shouting at me to proceed with caution, and I wonder if my thoughts are echoing off the walls. What am I doing with this man? I have slept with one person my whole life. Am I betraying Ben by consciously deciding to have a one-night stand, because this cannot possibly be more? I know that. He’s a player, I’ve read this, and I know this. God, how many women has he slept with? And even through all these warnings, the thought that is loudest in my head as I grip River’s hand as tightly as if we were walking down the street of a dark alley is, Am I ready to be with someone else, someone who isn’t Ben?