Page 26 of One Weekend in Quebec City

“Wow,”he chuckles softly.

My response is as witty. “Yup”

We lay there for a while, our bodies pressed together, our hearts beating in sync. The room is quiet except for the hum of nightlife outside the windows and the air conditioning. And now the weight of the coming morning hangs heavy between us, a silent reminder that our time together is quickly running out.

Eventually, Spencer stirs, his hand trailing gently up my back. “Are you hungry? I can order something from room service?”

As though on cue, my stomach rumbles. “That sounds perfect.”

“What do you feel like having?”

“Idon’t know. What does a billionaire from New York have for a late-night snack with his Canadian weekend hookup?”I’m trying to make light of the situation, but it feels anything but a laughing matter. However, I fear I’ll cry for the rest of the night if I don’t try to laugh.

Spencer stares longingly at me for a moment before he reaches for the phone beside the bed.

“Hello, I’d like to order a large pepperoni pizza to my room please. And some ice cream with chocolate sauce if you have any. Thank you.”He hangs up and turns back to me, his eyes liquid pools. “We still have time,”he says, his voice gentle. “We’ll indulge for a bit, replenish our energy, and then spend the rest of the night making love.”

My heart aches, as though torn in two, but I scrouge up the best smileI can. “I’d like that.”

When the food arrives, we eat slowly, wrapped in robes, sitting on the sofa, soft music in the background, feeding each other bites between kisses and laughter. The tension from earlier is gone, replaced by a tender intimacy that feels almost too good to be true.

After we finish eating, Spencer leads me back to the bed, his movements tender and deliberate. This time, there’s no rush, no urgency. Instead, there’s a deep, aching need to savor every moment, every touch, every whispered word.

He kisses me as though I’m a delicate flower, his hands tracing the curves of my body with a gentle reverence.

I melt into his touch, my body responding to his every caress. When he enters me this time, it’s with a slow, caring movement that speaks of deep emotion and longing for something lasting.

Our bodies move together in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. The pleasure builds gradually, a slow burn that consumes me from the inside out. We breathe in each other’s breath, taste each other’s lips, feel each other’s bodies, our moans soft and intimate murmurs.

When we find our release, it’s as one, our bodies trembling with the intensity of our connection. After we hold each other tightly, our skin slick, our heartbeats racing. Tears silently running down my cheeks.

As we lie in the dark room, wrapped in each other’s arms, the reality of the coming morning begins to sink in. The thought of leaving Spencer, of returning to my life in Kingston, fills me with a deep sadness.

I shift slightly, my eyes meeting his in the dim light offered through the windows where we kept the drapes open so we could see the stars. “I wish we could have more time.”

He brushes his thumb gently against my cheek, wiping away my tears. “Me too. More than anything.”

We hold each other tightly as if we can stop time from moving forward. But morning comes all too soon,andwith it, the inevitable goodbye.

As the first light of dawn begins to filter through the curtains, I slip quietly and stealthily out from beneath his arm. Spencer is sound asleep, his breaths soft and even.

My heart is heavy with indecision as I stand by the bed and stare down at him. He looks so peaceful in sleep, and I feela pang of regret. I know I have to leave, but the thought of walking away from him, from what we shared, is almost unbearable.

Easing down on the edge of the bed, I reach out to gently touch his cheek. He stirs slightly, and I quickly pull my hand away, afraid to wake him. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“I can’t do this,”I whisper, my voice trembling. “I can’t just walk away.”But I have to. I have to protect myself, protect my heart.

I stand up, my resolve strengthening, and silently grab a notepad and pen from the desk. I start to write, the words flowing from my heart. But then I stop and crumple up that sheet. With a fresh one, I start over, keeping it simple and to the point.

Spencer,

This weekend has been incredible, and I’ll never forget it. You made me feel so special.

I’ll send the completed article foryourreview in a few days.

Love,

Shelby

---