As I laugh at his half-hearted attempt to once again revise the words of a song, he grabs my h*ps and a new hunger surfaces between us. He rolls on top of me, and I think this time we aren’t taking it slow.

Chapter Twelve

SAY

Don’t have any doubts

Don’t have any fears

Because in the end

It’s better to say too much

Then not to say anything at all.

Having stayed awake most of the night, and seeing a glimmer of light through the window from the rising dawn, we lie quietly together, entangled in a mess of sheets. My head is on his chest with one of my legs wrapped around his, and I’m trailing my fingers down his smooth body as he nuzzles his nose in my hair, caressing my lower back.

Never having had a one-night stand, I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect this. Plenty of my friends have experienced casual sex. They’ve always described it as a quick fuck, sometimes followed by a sleepover. Either way, they’ve usually said both people wanted out the door as soon as possible.

And yet, in this moment, I don’t want our time to end. Last night was amazing. River and I were together in a way I’ve never experienced before, not just the sex and the multiple orgasms, but also his constant tender touches, the heat I felt everywhere surging throughout my body, his softly spoken words, and just our utter awareness. I find myself hoping that he asks me for my phone number and we see each other again.

Wondering if all new sexual encounters are this satisfying, I try to keep in mind that Ben and I were together for so long that our lovemaking became routine; dare I say somewhat expected. I also remind myself I haven’t experienced a man’s touch in a long while, so of course my sexual re-awakening thrills me.

Knowing I shouldn’t be comparing Ben to River, I do it anyway. I thought my sex life with Ben was fulfilling, but after what I experienced last night, it seems like it may have been a little empty. I think about how wrong it is of me to compare this very much alive and breathing man to Ben, who is no longer here on earth living freely.

Am I always going to make comparisons to Ben? I already know the answer is yes. But usually anytime I compare anything to Ben, Ben is always better. If I make stir-fry, I think: Ben made it better. If I read an article in the paper, I think: Ben would have written it better. Now I’m comparing sex, and I know it’s wrong. I have to stop this wave of thinking. I have to remember Ben was my life, but is no longer here, but River is. I also have to remember River is someone I allowed to seduce me for the sheer pleasure of having amazing casual sex.

I’m failing miserably at trying to channel the casual sex, one-night stand mentality because continually scrolling through my head are all of River’s endearing qualities. Qualities that include: his sexiness, his charm, his concern, his playfulness, and his awareness—our awareness of each other, he of me, and me of him. Seems odd to feel this connected to someone who I may never see again. Even now in the lull of our aftermath, I’m absorbing the sensation of his calm and relaxed breathing, and I know he’s sensing my satisfaction.

Trying to make myself stay focused, I forcefully return my thoughts to the list of things I need to do this morning. Things that include: finishing the interview, saying goodbye to River, getting to the airport, and boarding the plane destined to take me to the place so far away from this bliss.

His attention is interfering with my plans. It’s challenging my ability to focus. Thinking about the way he reacts to me and interacts with me; the way he makes me feel like he really cares is clouding my judgment. But then I remember my Google search. River appearing just as attentive in picture after picture with different women on his arm and that brings me back to my original casual sex thought.

Sitting up, I attempt to slip out of bed but River pulls me down and crushes me to the mattress as he leans over me. “Where you going?” he asks, smirking, his voice sounding raspy, groggy from lack of sleep.

With an equally raspy-sounding morning voice, I smile at him and gaze into his eyes, while indicating first the bathroom, then the window. “To the bathroom and then to watch the sunrise from this beautiful view.”

As he nods his head in response, I wonder how it’s possible that someone can look even sexier in the morning. Then he kisses me softly on the nose and releases me. “Coffee or tea?”

Pouting my lips and furrowing my brows, I wave my finger from head to toe, pointing to my very disheveled self. “Do I look like a girl who drinks tea in the morning?” And for added drama I say, “And please God, don’t tell me you drink tea!”

Leaning back on the headboard, he puts his hands behind his head, his na**d body shadowed by the faint glow of the bathroom light. He’s shaking his head and chuckling as he responds. “I’m not sure you need to know that information. Right now I’m still trying to figure out if you’re a stalker.”

I slip on his button-down shirt. I laugh at the words he just spoke that mimic my own from so long ago. Shaking my head, I turn and see him laughing just as hard. Oh yeah, add makes me laugh often to my list of endearing River qualities.

Entering the bathroom with none of my toiletries in hand, I sit for a while and just think. Having decided to at least wash my face before going to get my bag, I look in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair. Then I see his toothbrush. Why not?

Coming out of the bathroom, I grab my phone and give Aerie a quick call.

“Why haven’t you called me back? I must have called you ten times,” Aerie answers the phone as her greeting, and I know a quick call is out the window. I was hoping she’d still be asleep and I’d just leave her a message.

In a low tone I answer, “I’m sorry. I’m calling you back now.”

“Dahlia, where are you? Why are you talking so low?”

“I’m in Las Vegas. You know that.”

“No. Where are you right now?”

Knowing it’s easier to just tell her, I whisper, “In his suite.”

“River’s?! You are? Really! And?”

“Umm . . . Well it’s kind of a long story and I will tell you later but,” I say, trying to choose my words carefully. Then I just blurt out the rest. “We went out to dinner and then I spent the night with him.”

In a cautious tone, she says, “Are you telling me you had sex with River Wilde?”

“Yes Aerie, that is what I’m telling you.”

“You’re shitting me,” she says, her voice full of skepticism.

“No I’m not. What? Is it that hard for you to believe he’d be interested in me?”

“Of course not Dahlia. Men are always interested in you. It’s you I’m surprised about. You’re not exactly a Miss One-night Stand. Were you drunk?”

“No Aerie. Can we talk about this later please? Like I said it’s a long story.”

“Well at least tell me how it was? Was it good?”

“Aerie I’m hanging up now.”

“No, Dahlia wait. Are you okay?”

“Aerie I had sex, not surgery. Of course I’m okay.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. We both know you had a crush on him. I just want to make sure you’re in the right frame of mind. Having sex with someone is one thing, but ha**g s*x with someone you already know gets around is another.”

“Aerie how do you know he gets around? And anyway it was one night. We’ll say goodbye, and I’ll never see him again I’m sure.” I decide not to tell her I haven’t even done the interview yet.

“Okay Dahlia girl I get it. And I don’t know he gets around, I’ve just heard he doesn’t keep a girlfriend for long.”

“Aerie I’m fine, and I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you later. Goodbye.”

“Bye Dahlia, and don’t forget to call me this time.”

I hang up the phone and ponder Aerie’s comments a moment before glancing over to the open sliding glass door where the sun is starting to rise. Pink and purple waves of color paint the horizon over the mountains and I really want to see the beauty of this new day, so I decide to get my toiletry bag later.

My pulse quickens as I see him sitting in a chair, wearing only his jeans; his leg over one knee. Walking toward him, I see a pot of coffee and croissants sitting on the table beside him. He grins at me and pours two cups of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

Standing at the door, watching him, and smiling larger than life I say, “Cream only, kind sir,” and then with my hand on my hip I continue, “And I’m so glad you’re a coffee-drinking kind of man, now that I know, I can stop stalking you.”

He winks at me while pouring cream into one of the cups and he quips, “Oddly enough, a sexy woman with stalking tendencies doesn’t seem to bother me.”

Crossing my arms and leaning a hip against the doorframe, I can’t help but laugh. “I just bet.”

He smirks and says, “And here I thought you’d be a cream and sugar kind of girl with all your sweetness in the morning.”

I move my hands to my h*ps and say, “What, I’m not sweet enough already?” Then throwing caution to the wind, feeling so comfortable with him, experiencing not an ounce of unease or pretense, I stroll over to him as he motions me to sit on his lap.

The early dawn turns into a hazy morning, light streams from the beautiful yellow glow to my east. I sit on his lap with my knees bent and feet resting on his knee. We drink our coffee as he feeds me pieces of a croissant since one of my hands is glued to my morning coffee and the other is wrapped around his neck.

We continue to kiss and talk even after the sun has fully risen. Dazzling beams of sunlight reflect in his tousled hair and it takes on a multitude of shades from blonde to brown. I look at this incredibly attractive man in awe. He catches my gaze and kisses me a little longer and a little deeper. His touches also become more intimate. I try to calm the overwhelming feeling of desire creeping throughout my body. As his fingers drift up my leg, I suddenly become fully aware that I’m pantiless. I grab his hand and say, “Come on, we have to do the interview,” then pull him through the door heading toward the living room.

Stopping in the bedroom, he grins and nods toward the bed. “You can interview me while we lay in bed.”

Looking at his gorgeous smiling face, his smooth chest, well-defined abdominal muscles, and gleaming green eyes now ablaze, I know I should say no, resist the temptation, but I can’t, so I shake my finger at him in warning. “Okay, but you better behave, I need to finish this interview.”

Walking into the living room to get my small portable notebook, I hear him mutter, “I promise nothing.”

I can’t help but smile at his remark as I reach for my things. I’m in awe of how his charming smile makes me smile. Before going back to the bedroom, I walk over to the kitchen counter, press play on the docking station, and hit the room change button directing the music to the bedroom. Immediately, I hear the band Fuel singing I Should Have Told You. I love this song.

When I walk into the bedroom, I see River lying on his side, leaning on an elbow that is propped on the pillow. His head resting on his hand, his other arm is slung loosely over his hip. His legs are slightly bent with one propped up, and he’s watching me intently. He is so hot. He starts to anxiously bite his thumbnail and I can’t look at this complete vision of perfection any longer, so I avert my eyes. I know I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m too close to him; I decide to sit at the foot of the bed.

Taking my portable notebook out of my bag, I turn it on and pull up the list of questions we started on yesterday. He takes the thumb he was just biting and starts rubbing circles up my legs. His still moist touch sends shivers up my spine. I can’t even think about focusing on my list of questions.

“Behave,” I admonish as I glance at him from my computer screen. Putting my hand over his wandering one, and in a more playful tone, I say, “Sound Music paid me to come to Las Vegas and do an interview, not do you, not to have a one-night stand and get on the plane empty-handed.” I say the last few words in a much more teasing tone to help lessen the blow of the truth in the reality.

Removing his hand from my hold, he quickly sits up and he grabs the notebook from my lap, placing it on the floor. Wrapping his fingers around my wrists he pulls me right up to him, face-to-face, eye-to-eye. He slides his nose across my cheek to my ear, and with a low, quiet, but almost harsh tone says, “Dahlia this is, was, in no way a one-night stand on my part. Is it to you? Because if so, I totally misread this, you, us.” As he says this, he continues resting his cheek and his lips against the side of my head.

His words momentarily take my breath away as emotions surge everywhere, in my mind, throughout my body, and within my soul. I’m not sure what to say or what to do, but I feel strangely at peace. So tugging my arms from his grip, I grab his face and look into his eyes, knowing I can make this better, that I can take the sting out of my words. Words only thought, only spoken, to protect myself, to guard myself from what I thought was only a night of casual sex.

With my heart beating faster than the music playing, I respond with only fragmented thoughts. “I’m sorry, I just thought… No not a one-night stand on my part. I wasn’t sure…” Then sitting up straighter, gently sweeping the hair from his eyes, I point between him and me. “I just thought you did this kind of thing all the time.”

A frown appears on his face. He shakes his head no as Coldplay’s song Yellow starts to play throughout the room.

Hovering his lips over mine, he lightly brushes them across each corner of my mouth. “No I don’t do this all the time,” he says while gliding his lips to my neck. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever spent the night in a hotel room with a girl and shared breakfast with her the next morning,” he continues as his lips start to make their descent. “And I’m glad we feel the same way,” he finally whispers before pausing his kisses and directing his gaze at me. Then with a huge grin, he finishes the conversation. “So now is it okay if I misbehave?”