Page 55 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Caleb."
For a terrifying second I expect her to roll out from under me, put her dress in place and pretend none of this ever happened. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer, lips on my ear.
"That was…" She laughs, husky and wild, like she can't believe it herself.
"Insane?" I finish for her, since my own head is still pure static.
She licks the corner of my mouth. "Insane."
I laugh, and it comes out in a rough, open-throated sound, bigger and better than anything I've felt in months. "My god. Insane is right. I don't think I can even feel my legs."
"Give it a minute." She stretches under me, then immediately winces. "OK, maybe two minutes."
There's no pretense left. Just the sweat cooling on our skin and the way her dress is completely rucked up to her waist, a debauched crimson puddle at the center of an immaculate white duvet. The overhead lights are still off. I can only see her by the sticky halo of bedside lamp, turning the satin red molten and her skin a shade of gold I never imagined.
She tucks a hand under my jaw, her thumb stroking the place she just finished biting. "Keep looking at me like that," she whispers, "and I'll jump your bones again."
I stroke back a lock of hair sticking to her cheek, my thumb tracing the flushed streak on her jaw. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I say, honestly, fully, so hard it almost hurts to admit. "Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise."
She makes a sound in her throat—equal parts disbelief and hope. "Even now? All… wrecked?"
"Especially now." I kiss her neck, taste the salty sweat, and make a path down to the curve of her shoulder. "You should always look like this. Barely held together, but fighting to stay on top anyway."
She laughs, then rolls me over fast enough that I nearly lose my balance. She straddles my hips, and for a minute I just look at her, all wild hair and bruised lips. Then I reach up, my fingers finding the bow at her waist.
"Take it off," I murmur, tugging gently at the tie. "I want to feel you naked against me."
She immediately stiffens and catches my hand, but instead of letting me pull the bow loose, she reaches down and tightens the sash, retying it with quick, practiced movements.
"I should shower," she says, climbing off me before I can respond. "I'm all... sticky."
"Serena—"
But she's already disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. Not slammed, but definitely closed. A barrier.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming from the best sex of my life while my brain tries to process what just happened. She let me inside her body but won't let me see it. She screamed my name loud enough to wake the dead but can't take off a dress.
The shower starts running, and I consider joining her, but something tells me that door is closed for a reason. Whatever she's hiding under that dress, whatever makes her need the lights low and the fabric between us—it's bigger than post-orgasm vulnerability.
I grab my boxers from the floor and pull them on, then grab a water from the mini bar, trying to piece together the puzzle of Serena Morgan. The woman who commands million-dollar campaign budgets without breaking a sweat but can't let me undress her. The woman who took control of my body like she owned it but tightened her dress like armor the second I asked for more.
The bathroom door opens fifteen minutes later. She emerges in one of the hotel robes, her hair wet, the red dress draped over her arm.
"Hi," she says, hovering in the doorway like she might bolt.
"Come here."
She does, cautiously, perching on the edge of the bed like she's ready to run. I pull her against me, ignoring her tension.
"We need to talk about?—"
"No," she interrupts. "We don't. Not tonight. Please."
I study her face in the low light—the vulnerability, the fear, the exhaustion. Whatever this is, pushing won't help.
"OK," I say finally. "Not tonight."
She relaxes against me, and I pull her down onto the bed, spooning her from behind. Through the terry cloth robe, I can feel her trembling slightly.
