Mallory nodded and wiped at her ruined lip gloss before she whispered, “I know.”
“I almost… Fuck.”
“It’s okay. You stopped.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Barely.”
She eased herself off the desk and smoothed down her skirt. Though she made a solid effort to hide it, I could see her hands shaking as she did so and it felt like I took a solid punch to the gut.
“I could have pushed you away. I didn’t. You don’t have to—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t… act like I’m some sort of saint for regaining control at the last second. We both know I didn’t want to stop.”
“But you did.”
Her voice was small and so was the smile she gave me. I wanted to take comfort in it—in her—but I couldn’t. I was ashamed by how easily I lost myself over something so trivial.
“You should have lunch. I need to be alone.” Mallory opened her mouth to protest and I interrupted by pressing a finger to her lips. “Go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Feeling her lips form to press a kiss to my finger was the last blow. Guilt and shame swirled around in my stomach, completely killing my appetite—both for food and sex.
Hours later, the feeling still hadn’t gone away.
9
Mallory
He was avoiding me.
I completely understood the reason behind it. Whether he would admit it aloud or not, it was obvious that he felt guilty about pushing me so hard in his office.
I’d had days to mull over the entire experience over and over again and I still couldn’t believe I had come so close to losing my virginity on his desk. Because in that moment—nothing else had mattered to me except him.
I couldn’t say how I would’ve ended up feeling once it was over, but I imagined it was similar to how awful he must have felt now. That was the reason I forced myself to give him space when all I wanted to do every day was run to his office and beg him to take me on another date or at least kiss me again.
It was torture when Friday came to an end and he still hadn’t summoned me. During the ride to my apartment, I typed out several texts to him only to delete every single one.
It was nearly impossible for me to describe what I was thinking in words, let alone type them into a short, coherent text message.
In the shower, my frustration with the situation grew. Not only because he was avoiding me, but because I could no longer figure out what I wanted.
The truth was, I wanted him. I wanted Brian. What I felt when I was with him was everything I’d been hoping to find, only I wasn’t sure enough to call it love just yet.
Was the passion I felt when he touched me enough to be sure I wouldn’t regret letting him be my first? Could one even feel this level of passion without there being some sort of love underneath?
I had no experience to draw from and that made me more frustrated than anything else. I wanted to ask Brian how he felt, but I’d never get a chance to do it if he couldn’t get over what happened enough to actually speak to me again.
Just as I was about to twist off the knob to the shower, I was struck by an idea. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but it was the only thing I could think of that wouldn’t lead to me cleaning the entire apartment yet again in an anxiety-ridden panic.
On our second date, Brian had taken me to a small restaurant for lunch after our helicopter tour of the city. He mentioned stopping there frequently because he lived just down the road, pointing out his building when we passed it on the way back to my apartment.
If I could get to that restaurant, I could walk to his house. I still remembered the green awning and the glass door.
Instead of getting out, I reached for the razor and proceeded to shave off any stubble on my legs. Once I finished that, I moved up—hesitating with the blade over my bikini line.
Was I really going to do this? I had no idea how he would respond to me just showing up at his place out of the blue and preparing myself accordingly might turn out to be a fruitless endeavor.
The horrifying thought of being told to leave by his doorman popped into my head, but I shook it away with a huff. No. I couldn’t accept defeat before I even tried.
I carefully cleaned up my bikini line and got out of the shower. I toweled myself off on the way to my closet where I dug out the white dress I wore on our first date. It took me most of the night to realize it, but I knew how much Brian liked it.
Once I had almost perfectly recreated my appearance from that night, I pulled a few bills from the cab money collection I’d been building up and headed out.
Now or never.
10
Brian
For a man with no regrets, I certainly fell into the groove of sulking and beating myself up pretty fucking fast.