I shrugged and pointed. “I didn’t. I’m following her!”
“Could have fooled me! You don’t look bad when you loosen up, Claire.” Sarah mimicked my moves, and before long, we were both sweating.
I felt a man’s hand slip around my waist. He pulled me to him, his lean body against my back. We moved to the music. Sensual and pulsating. He spun me around, and I caught a glimpse of his face: handsome, a tad older, dark skin, dark hair. I followed his lead, concentrating on my feet. He tightened his grip, and I lost my footing. He felt muscular in a way Greg never did—lean arms, firm chest, hard thighs. A dancer? Were there straight professional salsa dancers? I felt breathless. Most noticeably, I felt alive. The heady mixture of his cologne, sweat, and soap made my head spin. When the song ended, he kissed my hand, gave a little wave, and dissolved into the crowd. I turned to look for Sarah.
“Where’s your friend?” she teased.
I shrugged, and we made our way back to the table.
“Let’s go,” I said, reaching into my purse for my cell phone.
She knitted her eyebrows. “Where?”
“Where else?” I replied, giving her a small shrug and a wry smile. “Float.”
We found Will and Owen right where they said they’d be. They looked happy to see us, and I studied Will with new eyes, with new purpose. I saw the evening for what it would be before it happened. Will appraised me, smiling, probably sensing a different attitude. I was not the reserved, nervous, distracted Claire he had met the previous night. I flirted, fingertips resting lightly on his arm, and laughed at his jokes. As I drank more, I became bolder and touched his thigh, then his cheek. I leaned in to whisper in his ear and played with his hair.
He responded by softly trailing a hand down my arm, then my back. He kissed my bare neck, his lips pausing in the soft hollow of my collarbone, and I shuddered with barely contained anticipation. My insides twisted momentarily with guilt, not about Greg as a person, but for the vow I was going to break. And I was going to break it; I was sure of that. I’d known that since I’d stood on the street, hurling accusations at a man who had turned out not to be my husband. How am I different now? I wasn’t. I would be an adulterer, too.
Sarah gave a little wave and secured a spot on one of the plush satin couches with Owen, curled around him like a kitten.
I paid the bill and took Will’s hand. I led him to our room, where I hung the Do Not Disturb tag on the door, hoping Sarah would notice. We lay on my bed, and I kissed him fully, hard and insistent. Backing up, I slowly pulled my shirt up over my head, then shimmied my jeans down over my hips until I stood nude in front of him, shivering slightly from both the frosty hotel room air and the electrifying need to be touched.
I reached out and paused, tentative for a moment, at his belt buckle. He pulled his shirt over his head, and I leaned over to kiss his neck and bare shoulders. Teasingly, I ran my hand along the front of his zipper, feeling his response and hearing his guttural groan. His eyes rolled skyward, and a small grin formed on his lips. I smiled, my confidence restored. He ran his hands up my sides, grazing my breasts and burning my skin. I attempted to push him back onto the bed.
He smiled slyly, grasping my hips with his hands. “You can’t be in charge all the time, Claire.” He held my arms out, tracing his fingertips in excruciatingly slow circles down my torso and across my breasts. He bent his head close in an almost kiss. I could feel his breath on my skin, but he kept his palm low and warm on my belly, forcing me upright.
When his lips finally met my flesh just beneath my breast bone, I gasped. He tilted his head slightly, and I could see his smile of satisfaction. I ran my hands through his hair, my nails clawing gently at the back of his neck, as his mouth trailed hot and wet down my stomach and thighs. He paused, giving me a raised eyebrow.
I laughed self-consciously. The sound of my laughter echoing in the dim room had a clarifying effect. Time seemed to stop. I felt on the precipice of something profound; I felt alive, something I hadn’t felt in six months. Desired and desirable. How long had that been missing? Years, maybe?
When our lips met, his mouth tasted of vodka and peppermint. His lips moved in cadenced rhythm with mine, and I pulled him closer, needing the connection. I felt his nakedness under my palm, his light feathery chest hair so different than Greg’s, his smell, a woodsy, musky mixture that made my head spin. I kissed his neck, biting gently in the way Greg liked because I knew no other way to be with a man. He moaned softly, his breath coming in short bursts with a soft incantation, “Claire…” and for a second, I opened my eyes, startled. Greg had never said my name during sex, had barely said anything at all most of the time. And I couldn’t stop comparing. The feel of Will’s thick dark wavy hair in my fingers was a stark dichotomy to Greg’s short, soft buzz. Will’s leanness felt alien, his kisses foreign.