Bombshells

Long after daylight arrives, I lay stretched out in my bed, my eyes shut, fighting off the reality of morning.

My thighs ache, probably from yesterday’s workout. But I’m also deliciously sore in some places I didn’t know I could be sore.

Behind my shuttered eyelids, the night isn’t over yet. If I stay in this dreamlike place, I can relive each thrill that Anton gave me. Each stroke of his magic hands across my bare skin. 

As first times go, I realize I’ve hit the jackpot. His obvious skill and devotion to female pleasure make me a very lucky girl.

But that wasn’t last night’s biggest surprise. It wasn’t just the thrills and chills. It was the heady emotional journey that we seemed to take together. His kisses tasted as hungry as mine. His touch was reverent, his words desperate. 

Maybe it’s all in my head. A girl can imagine a deep connection that isn’t really there. 

I’m a pro at that, actually.

But it felt so real. Even after the last groan and gasp had passed, Anton’s kisses didn’t stop. As I floated down from the extreme high of sexual pleasure, his lips continued to trace my neck, and gentle hands smoothed over my hips and down my back.

That part—the aftermath—was just as beautiful to me. I’d never wanted it to end.

Eventually, he’d gotten up to visit my bathroom. I’d heard him running the sink and washing up. Then I’d braced myself for his departure. His team began an eight-day road trip this morning. It’s not like he had a lot of extra time to share. 

But he hadn’t thrown on his clothes and left. Instead, he’d come back to the bed, straightening out the covers we’d tossed around during our sex fest. 

Then he’d lifted the covers and slid in beside me.

Feeling blessed, I’d rolled to meet him in the middle, where strong arms wrapped me into the sweetest embrace. 

We hadn’t spoken much. I’d felt too dreamy for casual conversation. And I don’t know what I would have found to say besides wow and thank you and please feel free to do that again.

My silence had also prevented me from blurting out the news that the whole experience had been a first for me. That’s nobody’s business but mine. And Anton doesn’t need the burden of dealing with my strange life choices. 

I didn’t want him to know, because it would have changed everything. He didn’t baby me. His brand of aggressive, bossy, emotional lust was a real eye-opener. 

But only metaphorically, because I refuse to open my eyes. 

Although I’d already cheated once, when I’d rolled over to discover that Anton had left me a note—short and sweet and just as perfect as our night together.

Sylvie—you are a sleeping beauty. There aren’t words to describe last night. Except maybe “Wow.” I will call you tonight. —A.B.

And there was a smiley face. When I’d read the note, that smiley face had matched my own.

“Sylvie,” comes Fiona’s voice through the door, followed by a knock. “Are you still in bed?”

“Yes. So?” I cover my eyes with one arm, as if the extra barrier could prevent the day from arriving. 

“Get up. We have to go to brunch.”

I search my memory for anything related to brunch and come up empty. “Why? Shouldn’t you be at work?” I stretch lazily. 

“It’s Sunday. Get up. You have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed.”

“Or else?” I do not understand the urgency.

“Or else I will combust from all the questions I have for you.”

Uh-oh. Fiona seems to know that I wasn’t alone in my bedroom last night. Maybe she heard Anton leave. But I’m not about to tell the whole team about my wild night. “It’s just going to be you and me at brunch, right?”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll start inviting other people.”

“No!” I throw off the comforter. “Fine. I’m getting up.”