“I want to—” He stops. “No, start again.” There’s silence, and I see his eyes flicker a few times. “Sorry. Mind’s blank. OK, I’ll take my inspiration from Terry.”
“Always a good idea,” I say, a bit nervously.
“ ‘Don’t doubt around all day.’ Remember that?”
“Yes!” I nod. “Don’t doubt around all day. Seize the wave.”
“Exactly. Seize the moment, I guess. Don’t screw yourself up in a ball, thinking … hesitating—” He breaks off, his gaze directly on mine, then continues in a lower tone. “I know what you were saying on the beach yesterday. But I dodged it. I avoided replying. Because … Anyway.” He draws breath. “Sasha, you’re beautiful.”
The compliment comes out of nowhere, woomph, like a tidal wave.
“I … thank you,” I manage. “You’re—”
“No.” He lifts a hand. “Let me finish. Beautiful inside and out. So strong. So inspirational. So funny. Such a good person. And so hot.” He pauses for a while, his eyes darkening, while I gaze back, transfixed. “I missed the wave yesterday. I doubted around. Terry would give me hell.”
“Right.” I can barely speak. “Well. Sometimes it’s hard to judge the wave.”
“Am I judging this one right?” He gently touches my chin, and the world swirls around me.
“Yes,” I whisper, my whole face tingling. “Although I took on board what you said on the beach. And I was wondering what the opposite of ‘casual sex’ is. So I looked it up.”
“You looked it up.” Finn’s face creases. “Of course you did. What did it say?”
“I found ‘platonic love’ and ‘dream crush’ and ‘love without sexual desire.’ ”
Finn’s hand moves to my neck, finding the nape, caressing my skin. The sensation is so intense, I close my eyes. My body cannot believe this. My body is yearning for this.
“None of those,” I hear him say, and I force myself to open my eyes.
“Then I found a different site, and it said, ‘intimate sex.’ ”
“Intimate sex.” Finn gazes at me a moment. “Oh yes.” And then he lowers his lips to mine.
Oh my God. Stars are alive in my brain. I’m overwhelmed. I’m nothing but 100 percent sexual craving. His mouth, his skin, the smell of him, the touch of him … I needed this. I need him, I want all of him.
Finn breaks away from me, heads to the door and closes it, then jams a chair under the handle.
“Here?” I say.
“Here.” I can see him eyeing up a velvet sofa and feel a squirm of anticipation. “Now.”
“But what if someone comes in?” I can’t help an incredulous laugh.
“Then we jammed the door by mistake. We’re the not-couple, remember?”
He turns to face me and I can see he’s hard （thank you, universe）， and for a few moments we just stare at each other.
I get to have him. A disbelieving, giddy voice is singing in my head. I get to have this man. This body. This experience.
He takes me by the waist and presses his body into mine, and at the feel of him I make a noise I don’t quite recognize. This is a kind of exquisite agony. I’m on the brink and we haven’t even begun.
“A bar isn’t intimate,” I say, as his mouth runs down my neck. My dress buttons are already slipping out of their buttonholes, the silky fabric is falling open, and Finn makes a kind of guttural sound, his mouth finding my skin instantly. Then his hands are inside my underwear and I’m already riding the first wave, the waves I’d forgotten existed but now I’m catching again and again, shuddering against his chest.
At last I open my eyes and draw back to see Finn watching me, a tiny half smile on his face. His shirt is damp and I peel it off him.
“That intimate enough for you?” he says.
“Not nearly.” I reach down for him, and at my touch he inhales sharply, his eyes briefly closing.
“Me neither.” His face has a distorted, almost drunk expression.
Applause breaks out from the adjoining dining room, and we meet eyes with silent smiles as we peel off our remaining clothes and head to the sofa. As I see the full glory of him, I send another message to the universe. （Thank you. You have gone above and beyond.）
He’s brought protection, and as he’s sorting himself out, I wonder if he had it all along or if he didn’t because of the casual-sex thing? But then, what is this? Casual? Not casual?
It’s sex! my brain screams. Shut up with the overthinking! It’s sex!
Meanwhile, I’ve draped a tablecloth over the sofa, for the full wedding-night look, and I arrange myself on it in what might possibly be an alluring position. Or not. But who cares? I’m just desperate for the real deal now.
“Come.” I reach out my hands as he turns. “Come.”
The sofa creaks under Finn’s weight, and I pull him to me, breathing in the heady scent of him, nuzzling his chest, listening to his breathing intensify as his hands run down my body.
“Sasha … this is OK?” He says the words as though with monumental effort, and I pull him in for a kiss, cupping his face, running my fingers through his hair, loving him.
No. Wait. Not loving him.
Oh God. Loving him. That’s the truth.
Tears suddenly edge my closed eyes. I love him. The universe sent him to me and thought, Let’s give her one she’ll fall desperately in love with.
Deal with that tomorrow. Finn’s still waiting for my answer, beloved Finn.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes. Yes.”
And then my mind is a blur and we’re everything. All of it. Together.
Twenty
When Nikolai sees us in bed together the next morning, he nearly collapses. His face drains of color, he staggers, and the tray he’s carrying wobbles precariously.
“Hi, Nikolai,” says Finn in an unconcerned voice. “Put the coffee on the bedside table, thanks. And I forgot to mention, could you bring another cup for my guest? You know Sasha, don’t you?”
“Morning, Nikolai,” I say, from the comfortable depths of Finn’s bed.
Nikolai seems unable to reply. He opens his mouth three times, then appears to give up. Eyeing me warily, he makes his way to the bedside table, places the tray on it, then retreats.
“I can’t believe you’ve been having room-service coffee all this time,” I say, as the door shuts. “It never even occurred to me.”
“Live a little,” says Finn, grinning. “This is the Rilston Hotel, don’t you know?”
He pours a cup of coffee and hands it to me.
“That’s yours,” I protest.
“Yours now.” He grins again. “Maybe we’ll have to share. I’m not sure Nikolai can face us a second time.”
Sure enough, when there’s a knock at the door a few minutes later and Finn calls, “Come in,” it’s Herbert who totters in, bearing a single cup and saucer on a tarnished salver with a price tag dangling from it.
“Herbert!” exclaims Finn. “Good to see you. Shall I take that?”
Herbert is silent for a few moments, his eyes shifting constantly between Finn and me, then he offers the salver to Finn, who removes the cup.