Love Confessed Read online

  Friday. It’s finally Friday.

  God, I can’t tell if I’m excited or anxious, or maybe a little bit of both. I feel like I do the morning of a flight. I’ve flown a thousand times, I love flying, but until the wheels tuck into the bottom of the plane I also feel this inexplicable jitter of nerves. Stomach a little twisty. Hands a little shaky. Hoping I get to the airport lounge early enough for a quick cocktail before I have to board the plane. After a fitful night of sleep, that’s exactly how I feel when I wake up this morning.

  Unfortunately for me though, there is no airport lounge in my near future, and I’m pretty sure sneaking a mimosa into my travel mug before I take Ethan to school will take me out of the running for mom of the year. So hopefully coffee will be enough to calm my nerves this morning. Aaaand with this internal struggle playing out in my head, my alarm goes off so I begrudgingly roll myself out of bed. My alarm going off is honestly just kind of a cruel joke at this point – a reminder that in some sort of alternate universe I maybe could have stayed asleep until this point.

  What the hell is wrong with me?!? Why am I freaking out like this? I’m attractive, intelligent, successful, witty, twenty-nine year old lawyer. I’m not suffering from any lack of male attention. So why did I toss and turn all night, in and out of sleep, with fantasies of feeling that strong, firm chest I want to feel so badly again? The chest of one of my firm’s clients. A chest that I quite literally ran into in the office halls on Monday. Actually, my fantasies involve feeling much more than his chest but my fortunately for my sanity, my thoughts are derailed again – this time as my son Ethan comes running into my room with his backpack on.

  “Mom, I’m ready! Can I go to auntie’s now?”

  “No buddy, not yet. You have to go to school first and then you’ll go to auntie’s Em’s house to stay the night.”

  “But mooommmmm. Why? Can’t I skip school just this once? Please?”

  “Ethan, I’m pretty sure you know the answer to this already…”

  “But I’m not feeling very well,” he moans, followed by the fakest cough I’ve ever heard. Ha. This kid.

  “Well honey, maybe I should call your aunt and let her know that she can’t take you to the pier tomorrow morning since you’re not feeling well…”

  “Ugh, fine mom. I guess I’ll go to school!” He stomps away.

  I can never figure out when six became the new thirteen, but at least this mild altercation with my son has me laughing. My morning is now underway and once I’m into the swing of things, I’m much too busy for shaky hands or turning stomachs.

  After dropping Ethan off at school, I run into work five minutes late because I was in dire need of a caramel macchiato. A need that more than justified my tardiness. Before I know it, my Friday of consults is underway and I manage to also pull off the last minute plans for next weeks’ vacation. My sister Emily just came back into Chicago last night, so next week I am taking a long overdue vacation to spend time with her and help her settle back into life in the city I feel bad taking a vacation without Ethan, but Emily has been finishing her master’s in France for the last two years and we’ve only been able to see each other a handful of times.

  Needless to say, we are long overdue in catching up in all things sisterly. She has a few interviews and I’m hoping she’ll be up for apartment hunting next week too. She landed late last night and will likely sleep the day away adjusting to time zones before she braves taking Ethan out for whatever fun plans they have tonight followed by a pier excursion tomorrow morning. As much as she can’t wait to see him (they’re thick as thieves, often I think in some sort of conspiratorial pact to drive me crazy), I’m glad she was smart enough to spend the night at a hotel because we both know there is no way Ethan would have let her sleep if she was at our apartment.

  Also, I’m looking forward to a lazy morning sobering up after a party where I’m certain I’ll drink too much. Too much, in all fairness, doesn’t mean much since I now have a strict mom/three-drinks-and-I’m-21-again tolerance. I’m sure I’ll need AT LEAST a morning to recover before I join Emily and Ethan for a round of laser tag and a movie tomorrow night. At least, Em and I have a relaxing week of spa dates, museum touring, and getting to be foodies without Ethan sitting across the table rolling his eyes at his food and asking why we couldn’t just get pizza. Yes, mom time is definitely something I need. My grandma is even coming down for the second half of the week and I can’t wait to see her either!

  I’m working as quickly as I can to tie up my loose ends before vacation when I hear a quick rap on my door. Surprised to find that it’s 4 o’clock, I look up to see my boss leaning in my door. Scott Sanders looks as dashing as ever in his perfectly fitted tux. He is still very attractive at his age and there’s no question that he knows it. My charming womanizer of a boss is tall with a muscular but lean build, salt and pepper hair and the deepest blue eyes. When I first started working here we developed a mild flirtation but he was so arrogant I couldn’t imagine actually dating him. That being said, we’ve still managed to uphold our friendly banter and it hasn’t become any less flirtatious or entertaining over the year.

  “Hey Leah,” he says. “When were you planning on heading over? Want to cut out early with me and get our drink on?”

  “Actually, that sounds perfect. I’m just going to get ready here. Give me half an hour?” The party doesn’t start until seven but I’d definitely rather be a couple of drinks in when I see Steve again.

  “Fair enough but I need a healthy buzz before this show starts so don’t take too long,” he winks and walks out.

  I quickly finish the last email I’m working on, grab my bag and dress, and head down to the small ladies locker room just through the in office gym. I rinse off, then re-straighten the mess of curls I’d already managed to tame this morning. While it would have been nice to get ready while relaxing and being pampered, time was a luxury I wasn’t afforded this week. I also wasn’t entirely sure I trusted myself alone with my thoughts for that long, given their wayward direction since Steve caught me. So with my hair pinned up in a tasteful chignon and makeup that is simple and elegant - light blush, shimmery eyes, pale pink lips - I slip into my blue silk chiffon dress.

  Oh and this dress, I’m in love. I have more than enough chances to dress up…I attend my fair share of black tie events, charity balls, fundraising galas and such, but I absolutely fell in love with this dress when I tried it on. It has a strapless sweetheart neckline drawing attention to the criss-cross softly touched bodice below. The dress cinches tightly around my waist and falls simply and beautifully to the floor. God, do I look good in it. Like most women, I’ve struggled with insecurities over different parts of my body through the years. It hasn’t always been easy. I am busty, and have more curves than a lot of the women I know, I am soft but fit and, for the most part, have learned to love every inch of myself. Even after I had Ethan, the amount of stress I was under as a law student and a new single mom had me coming out even thinner than before I got pregnant. Of course, over the years I’ve learned that I have to put more and more time in at the gym to maintain said figure. Even though I’m fairly comfortable in my skin, I could do without the few stretch marks I couldn’t avoid adopting during my pregnancy but hey, what’s a girl gonna do.

  I do one more turn in the mirror and can’t help but smile at the end result. I head back upstairs and find Scott facing the full-length windows of his office while talking on his cell phone. He hears me right when I step in and turns around, jaw dropping. He stops mid-sentence; I smile and shake my head at him. The person on the other end of the line must snap him back to life because he finally responds, “Yeah, well anyway, I look forward to seeing you tonight, Bob” and he hangs up.

  I will say that Scott knows how to make a woman feel like she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The only woman he’s ever seen. It’s a gift that I’m sure has felt more like a curse to some of the many women who have fallen head over heels for him. Scott
strides over to me and we link arms as we head out of his office. “You know Leah, the position for wife number four is still open. Sure you’re not interested in applying?” he asks looking down at me. We laugh as we walk out arm in arm with my head on his shoulder. Although we’re both attractive people, we’re not exactly attracted to one another which makes this yet flirty friendship that harmlessly manages to lighten up work days that can otherwise be a little bit overwhelming sometimes. We head downstairs talking about the clients we look forward to seeing and other obligatory invites we’ll do our best to avoid.

  As we step out of the building and the back door of the waiting limo opens, I almost squeal with delight when I see Lydia Smith. She’s the wife of William Smith, Scott’s best friend and the other founding partner of our firm. William has been out on health leave and Lydia, a normally present voice in the office, has been out caring for him. I’ve always been close to Lydia, just like everybody else who has probably ever met her. I can imagine it would be hard not to fall in love with her. Her motherly concern, her kind smile, and her soft blue eyes remind me of my mother and just the sight of Lydia always puts a smile on my face. Catching up with her makes the drive go quickly and before I know it, she and I are now walking hand in hand into the entertainment hall of the Waldorf Astoria.

  The venue is almost ready for the evening; the feel of the gathering is cool and sophisticated yet still inviting. Scott leaves our side to talk to a colleague about yesterday’s Cubs game while I head to the bar with Lydia and grab a welcome glass of champagne. A few minutes later, guests are slowly beginning to trickle in and I turn when I hear Scott call a friendly greeting to an entering guest across the hall. When I look up towards the entrance I see deep emerald eyes look over and lock with mine. He almost skips a step and his cool slips just a beat. In that moment there is no doubt, he was looking for me. The predatory look in his eyes erases any lingering questions about our encounter on Monday. That look, that falter in his step, convinces me that I couldn’t have been the only one to feel that spark in the hall. This knowledge, combined with the glass of champagne I’d just downed, do a poor job of letting me ignore that little flutter that starts in my stomach and works its way down just a little bit lower…

  Our eye contact is broken as Scott reaches Steve and pats him on the shoulder at the same time that my attention is called away by my assistant Kelly. Soon enough, the party is in full swing and it really is a lovely celebration. The food is exquisite, the champagne is to die for, and the amount of fun I’m having lets me know exactly how much I needed this night to let loose and enjoy myself. When I catch myself laughing more than is warranted at the corny jokes in Scott’s speech, I realize I’m drunk. I haven’t had a night out without Ethan in a long time so I am taking full advantage. Oh well, I deserve it.

  I can’t even fully remember the last time I was drunk, really drunk. Maybe two years ago when helping Emily get settled into France? Whenever it was, I’m sure it was much too long ago and I’m having an absolute blast tonight. Even though my lack of sobriety turns me an ungodly shade of red when Scott thanks me for my work and everybody turns to look at me. It feels good to be recognized, and I suddenly feel a little bit less drained from the hard work I’ve put in. The band starts back up and people happily make their way to the dance floor, while I turn and head the few feet over to the bar for one last drink before I call it a night. As I walk up to the bar the man in front of me turns around right as I walk up behind him and bumps into me causing me to stumble a little but he catches me and steadies me with his hands on my waist…wait…I recognize these hands… this feeling. Crap.

  As I look at the strong hands on waist and register who it is, I can’t decide whether to look up at him and laugh or just turn and run away. As I’m certain running in my drunken state with these shoes on would be a terrible and embarrassing spectacle, it looks like looking up may be my only option. Ugh. Seriously, we must stop running into each other like this! But when I look up and see him smiling at me with that playful, crooked smile all I can do is smile back and let him pull me over to the dance floor. We don’t even talk for a minute, a minute that once again feels like hours. We just stare at each other, and I can feel my heart racing like it hasn’t since, well, Monday when I was this close to him. He smells even better than I remember more masculine, and that hair! God I want to run my hands through that hair while he is lying on top of me. The thought makes me shiver ever so slightly and I lick my lips that are suddenly desperately parched, and he notices it all. Every breath. Because he hasn’t stopped staring at me.

  I relax into him and as the song winds down I start twirling his hair, the hair I can reach with my wrists crossed behind his neck. I sway gently to the music as he holds me and before I realize what’s happening, he has danced me to the edge of the room and is taking my hand and leading me out. I should stop. I should turn around and go back to the party. I should say something, I know I should. But I can’t. I’ve lost my words. This strange magnetism I feel to him is keeping me from doing anything but willingly following him wherever it is that he’s leading me.

  The part that gets to me the most is how I trust myself to go wherever it is that he’s leading me. How I just know that he won’t hurt me. The spot his hand is resting at – that dip at the where the bottom of my back curves into the top of my butt, a spot that would set off red flags with anybody else, has me feeling safe with Steve. I lean back a little more into his hold. The moment we are in the hall outside of the party his lips are on mine. After several minutes, I’m jolted out of my trance and I push him back, afraid to give in. Aaaand I’m back, in all of my calculating, reserved glory.

  “Steve, what are doing?” I ask in a hushed breath, just now acknowledging that the only place to go if this continues any longer is into bed..

  “You really have no idea how beautiful you are do you?” is his response. I don’t even know what to say to him. Without another word his lips return to mine and this time I gave in without question. He tastes every bit as wonderful as I’ve dreamed he would. He’s a mixture of mint and alcohol, and I feel like I am tasting my first meal after starving for months. It’s even better than that, actually. He tastes like he smells, pure masculine man laced with the taste of good scotch. It’s intoxicating. His kiss is softer than I’d imagined but there is also the feeling of restraint, almost as though being this gentle takes a great deal of effort for him. He pushes me against the wall, his hands cup my face and slowly slip lower, just reaching my breast when I realize we’re still in the lobby of the hotel and stop him. “Steve, we’re in the lobby. People can see us.” I say out of breath. I’m pushing him back but I don’t want him to stop.

  “Come up with me.” He replies pulling me into the elevator that is across from us. When the doors close his lips are on mine again continuing their slow torture. He leads me into his room that is just out of the elevator. The moment the door closes behind us I am pushing his jacket off while he kisses down my neck and across my collar bone. His hands reach my waist as he guides me back towards the bed. I kick my shoes off but as I do he gets tangled in the bottom of my dress and falls into the bed, for the first time letting me feel like I may not be the only one completely lacking in sobriety. His face turns red and he looks embarrassed, maybe even angry, and I can’t help but laugh. I keep laughing and slowly his playful smile returns and he lies down, pulling me on top of him.

  We continue undressing each other hurriedly until soon there is no barrier left between us. It feels amazing. He is so firm and toned, so warm and tan, and I feel so small and sexy as his big hands caress up and down my back while he pulls me up ever so slightly to meet him. We begin to move in a rhythm together while our kiss deepens and becomes more passionate. He flips us over and his lips move to my breast, while he pulls a harden nipple into his mouth and sucks. I moan and arch my back. God, it feels so good. Somehow he already knows how to handle my body perfectly and his hand moves down between my legs and starts to g
ently caress the most sensitive part of me.

  God, his mouth on my nipple and his finger between my sex is almost enough to make me come, partly I think from the excitement of it all. Of this secret forbidden thing I am doing. Who am I tonight? I never do this. I am responsible, I am a planner, I live by a very structured routine and this, this one night stand is not something that I do but I love it. I love how it feels and have absolutely no desire to stop it.

  I try to wiggle free only because I want my mouth on more of him than I can reach from where he has me pinned beneath him but he won’t let me. “No Leah, I want to do this for you. Ever since you ran into me in the hall the other day, all I’ve been able to think about is my lips and hands on you, of being inside of you.” He reaches off of the bed to rifle through his suit pocket and he pulls out a condom. I arch a brow as if to say “Really? You were that sure of yourself?” and he shrugs and says “Hey, a guy can hope.” and I laugh but my body is already craving his touch, his mouth, and on its own accord my body arches toward his, wanting him inside of me.

  He rolls the condom on and slowly eases his perfect, rigid length inside of me. We both moan at the same time. The feeling is amazing and intense; I want to stay like this as long as possible. He kisses me again as we begin to move together at a perfect rhythm. He stares into my eyes, making our actions more intimate than I think either of us has intended. I feel sexy and sensual beneath him. As I get closer to my climax I run my nails down his back and he moves faster and harder, as if answering my touch with his entire body.

  “God Leah, You're so fucking beautiful.”

  “Oh Steve, harder. Please.” I beg.

  He gladly obliges. We come at the same time and we both let out a sigh. Holy hell. That was amazing. I haven’t felt a connection like this since Joseph. He collapses on top of me and we just lay there trying to catch our breath.

  He pulls out slowly and kisses me softly but says nothing. All of a sudden my drunkenness kicks in and the room starts spinning a little. He wraps his arms around me and we’re cuddled softly together under the comforter quickly drifting off to sleep.