Tonight? You’ve been making me crazy for twenty years.
He moved to one side of me so he could reach inside the slit on my dress. I shivered as his fingers touched my skin and his palm slid up my inner thigh. At the first skim of his fingertips over my black lace panties, a sigh escaped me and I raised my knee toward the ceiling, tilting my hips toward him.
He caressed me gently through the silk before edging one finger beneath it, groaning as he slipped it easily inside me. I moved my hips against his hand, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt. He worked two fingers inside me, and I moaned against his lips. “That feels so good,” I panted.
“I want you so fucking badly tonight,” he growled, his other hand fisting in my hair.
There it was again. That word—tonight.
“Cole, wait.” I pushed against his chest slightly, just so I could look up at him. “What about tomorrow?” I asked breathlessly.
“Huh?” His hand went still.
Stop! screamed teenage me in my head. Don’t ruin this! We’ve waited long enough!
But I couldn’t help it. “What about tomorrow? Will you want me then? And what about yesterday?”
“I . . . I don’t understand.” He took his hand from my underwear.
“I don’t either. And I’m probably going to hate myself for this, but something doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t?”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to have the strength to say what needed to be said. “The first night you walked me home, you told me why you don’t date, and I understood. Last week, you explained to me in heart-wrenching detail why you and I should probably just be friends, and I agreed. Last night you said you wished things were different, and I did too . . . so are they?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” He sounded genuinely confused, and then he rolled onto his back. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just trying to let go and have some fun.”
I sat up, pushing my dress down and bringing my legs together. “I was too.”
“And I really do want you. Everything I said tonight is true.”
I pressed my lips together, knowing a but was coming.
“But you’re right. Nothing has changed. I’m still the same guy I was last week, with the same issues.” He flung his arm over his eyes, and I caught the shine of his wedding ring in the lamplight. “I can’t make you any promises. And I can’t lie to you.”
I nodded, knowing deep down this was wrong for me. While I wanted nothing more than to let him love me for the night, some gut, adult instinct told me to protect myself, even while teenage me threw a tantrum in the corner of my mind, my girl parts backing her up.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“No need for apology, Cole.” I took another deep breath. “I came up here willingly, and part of me is still desperately hoping tonight ends with me in your arms, because I can’t tell you how badly I’ve always wanted to be there.”
He looked over at me. “I want you there too.”
“But not enough,” I said, hearing the catch in my voice, even as I smiled. “And it’s okay. The truth is, Cole, I don’t want it enough either—not enough to invite the heartbreak that would follow. Because I won’t be able to just walk away from this and be okay. It will mean too much to me.”
He didn’t say anything. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “You can’t read my mind, and I’ve never been entirely honest about my feelings for you. So I’m sorry too, for leading you to believe I could be that girl who’s up for anything. It wasn’t fair.”
“Cheyenne.” He reached over and put a hand on my leg.
“I really thought I could be her tonight. I wanted to be her tonight. God knows I’ve been her every other night of my life.” My eyes blurred with tears. “The truth is, Cole, I’ve loved you hopelessly for so long that I don’t know any other way to do it. But being with you like that would give me hope, and that’s something I can’t afford right now.”
“Cheyenne, I—”
“No, don’t,” I said, sliding off the bed, away from his touch, his scent, his blue eyes looking at me with despair. I couldn’t bear to hear him explain why he couldn’t love me back. I’d always known. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just leave it be and do what we said, okay? Let’s be friends. My feelings will fade again.” Slipping my feet into my shoes, I heard myself laugh nervously. “They always do.”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t want you to go.”
I turned to him with a tearful smile. “I have to, Cole. I have to go to my room alone, where I will put myself in a timeout, curse myself for blowing my chance to sleep with you, and wallow in the humiliation of everything I’ve just confessed. But once I get over all that, I’m hoping to feel good about this.”
It took him a moment to reply. “I understand.”
“Thank you. Goodnight.” Aiming for a dignified exit, I headed for the door, but then turned around again. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could just forget everything I said to you tonight and pretend like this never happened?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’ll never forget the things you said to me tonight.”
So much for dignity. Cheeks burning, I moved for the door again.
“Cheyenne, wait!” He got out of bed and darted past me, reaching the door first, flattening his back against it.
Yes, Cole. Beg me to stay. Give me hope. Say you want me—not just for tonight.
“Yes?” I held my breath.
“I want you to know . . .” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I want you to know that I understand how you feel. And I hope you know how much I care about you. There hasn’t been anyone since Trisha that I—that I want this way.”
But not enough, I thought again, the lump rising in my throat. Not enough.
“I’m sorry if I messed up our friendship by saying one thing and doing another,” he went on. “I won’t do it again.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, wondering how the hell I was going to get through tomorrow. “Okay.”
He opened the door for me, and I held my head high as I walked through it.
At the sound of it closing behind me, I burst into tears.
After a near sleepless night, I dragged my ass out of bed at eight the next morning and knocked on the door of the bridal suite fifteen minutes later.
Blair took one look at my puffy face and bloodshot eyes the next morning and gasped. “Oh my God. What happened to you?”
“Do you have coffee?” I croaked.
“Yes. Come in, no one else is here yet.” She shut the door behind me and hurried over to a table where coffee, tea, and breakfast had been set out for the female wedding party. The entire room was big and bright, with lots of white everywhere—white carpet on the dark wood floor, white sheers on the windows, two white sofas facing each other, three white salon chairs facing three white-framed mirrors on walls painted a soft gray. In a couple hours, a hair and makeup team would arrive—they’d have a hell of a job whipping my sorry self into shape—and we were all due for a photo shoot at three.