My breasts are heavy, full, and then his hands are there, sliding from my back to cup one and then the other from the outside of my gown. I can feel the warmth of his palms radiate through the material. His hands are so big. Confident. He rolls over my nipples and I arch against him like a greedy cat. He’s patient, practiced. Better than I imagined he could be.
The fact that we’re silent doesn’t shock me. We’re walking a tightrope. We’re holding our breaths. Our weaponized words will only upset the delicate peace we’ve built.
I won’t tell if you won’t, I signal with a roll of my hips.
His groan is a legal contract, signed at the dotted line.
My gown is like a bikini, and by undoing two simple ties behind my neck and behind my back, I could be naked from the waist up.
He goes for the loose knot around my back first. With a flick of his wrist, the bow is gone, and the present is nearly unwrapped. He revels in the anticipation, gliding his hands across my naked back, up around my ribs, and then he’s cupping my breasts from behind the drape of fabric. Skin to skin, finally. He brushes the center of his palms across my nipples, back and forth, gently teasing. It’s an erotic little game, the way he leaves the tie around my neck. He gets to feel, but not see. Touch, but not taste.
I sit back and press my hand to his chest. He’s hard muscle beneath warm, golden skin—and all this time, I thought he was cold-blooded. His eyes meet mine and they are a shade of brown I’ve never seen. I shiver and he grows harder beneath me.
How far will you go? I ask with an arch of my brow. How much can you take?
His hands drift up to my neck and he yanks the last tie free. Yes, I think, diving into the lion’s den. God yes. I want Lucas to see me. Everything. Loose material gathers around my waist and whatever peace there was is gone. There is danger in his eyes, not from malice but from hunger. He takes me in, from flushed cheeks to quivering stomach. It’s all there for him to see. Every invisible scar from our war.
“Daisy,” he whispers, hoarse.
Suddenly, I feel like a toy that’s been wound and wound and wound.
I’m ready to be set free.
I need to be.
I reach down, take his hand from around my waist, and slide it right over the middle of my belly. With my guidance, it slips down inside the loose gown, just over the damp material of my panties. My thighs are spread over his and silk separates his fingers from me. My eyes squeeze close. My mouth drops open. There’s a low gasp, and it’s me, shocked by how good it feels to have his thumb circle there. Gently at first, just a hint of what’s to come. Soft circles that tease, around and around the exact spot where I need him to be. He’s getting closer and with a smirk, I realize Lucas somehow knows exactly how to touch me. Know thy enemy takes on new meaning for me. I tilt my head back and the pressure builds, the steam rises, and in my mind I’m reaching for the release valve. I stretch, I’m almost there, I…
A sharp, loud knock on the door is a pinprick to our balloon.
I shriek and leap off him, stumbling. I yank my gown back to cover my chest, only then remembering we covered the window to block the hallway light. We’re hidden.
“Hey! Are you two okay in there?” the CDC official asks. Apparently now he has time for questions. “Did you get the cot set up?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Lucas hisses under his breath, sitting up and yanking his hands through his hair.
Another knock indicates that we’re supposed to answer.
“Fine!” Lucas shouts. “Sleeping!”
“Oh, sorry about that. Night.”
My sympathetic nervous system, reacting to a cocktail of stress and excitement, has flooded my bloodstream with adrenaline. As a result, my heart rate and blood pressure are through the roof, my pupils are saucers, my lungs have expanded. It’s my body’s way of asking fight or flight, but from the way things were headed with Lucas, I know I was gearing up for a different f-word entirely.
I begin to normalize, but remember I have nowhere to go. I’m in a 10x12 cage, with Lucas, who is currently looking at me, waiting for me to speak.
“Daisy? Should we—”
I turn before he can finish and scurry back into the bathroom to retie my gown. Then I think better of it and put another one on over it, backward. I’m a teenager, doubling up on protection because I think it will safeguard me. It won’t.
When I walk back into the room, Lucas is on his side, facing away from me.
Apparently, there’s nothing left to say. With fuck gone and flight off the table, there is only one option left for us to turn to.
I climb onto the exam table, trying to be as quiet as possible, like maybe I can trick Lucas into thinking I’m not in the room anymore. I really don’t want to talk about what just happened, but the air didn’t get that memo.
The room is electrified and every movement Lucas makes sparks through me.
I don’t fall asleep. I lie there on tenterhooks, waiting for him to speak, yell—anything. We’ve never been closer, but in this moment I feel a gulf between us larger than the 11 years we spent apart.
HOUR 18
In the morning, Lucas is in a sour mood, probably upset that he had to go to sleep with a hard-on. BFD. We all thought the night would end better than it did.