He’d spent so many nights in Bali playing out this day in his head. He’d pictured Adele’s face, imagined touching her hair, saying his part, kissing her lips. It had all seemed so simple in his fantasy version, but the real world contained infinitely more complicated and powerful emotions. Suddenly he was filled with doubt: was she even happy he was here? Sure, they’d shared that moment of laughter on the floor, but who knew what she was thinking now that the moment had passed. Had he made a horrible mistake? He’d literally traded white sand beaches and endless sunshine for gray skies and constant drizzle, had quit an incredibly lucrative job, had flown halfway around the world for a woman he hadn’t even known existed six months ago.
But the espresso was good. He sipped it slowly, gazing out the window at the people passing by, and tried to clear his mind. Eventually, it occurred to him how insanely stupid he was being. Sure, he’d done a bunch of things of questionable wisdom, but he’d done them; he couldn’t take them back. Doubting his course of action before seeing it through to the end was about the worst thing he could do. He was being a coward again. Immediately after, it occurred to him that he was sitting in a crowded café wearing a pair of black spandex shorts that left basically nothing to the imagination. Glancing around, he registered more than a few raised eyebrows and stifled giggles.
He tossed his disposable espresso in the trash and dashed out the door, breaking into a jog as he headed toward Adele’s office. His backpack slung over a shoulder, it occurred to him that his real pants were in his bag and he could have changed into them at the coffee shop. Too late now, he thought, picking up his pace. Within minutes, he was in front of Adele’s building. He paused for a moment, caught his breath, and then stormed into the lobby, waving at the doorman and heading straight to the elevator, straight up to the 11th floor, straight to Adele’s office (he’d asked the receptionist where she sat when he’d come in the first time).
Three breaths, then he knocked.
“Come in,” he heard her say.
When he opened the door, he was greeted by her back. She was gazing out the window, looking down. It took several moments for her to turn around. When she did, her face searched his for a moment, her eyes darting over him, as if verifying his existence. Glancing at his shorts, she broke into an enormous grin.
“So you’re the insane person running around Seattle in yoga shorts,” she said. “It kind of looked like you, but I couldn’t tell from up here.”
He laughed, grateful to feel some of the tension leave his body.
“Guilty as charged,” he said. “What can I say, I’ve lived in a world where flip-flops are formal wear for the past six years.”
She smiled back at him, said nothing.
“Danny—” she began, stepping toward him.
“Shh,” he said, cutting her off. “Hang on.” He stepped forward and pulled her toward him, not in a kiss, but in an encompassing embrace. She fell into his arms, letting herself be enveloped, and he felt something he hadn’t felt for as long as he could remember. It took him a few moments to identify it.
He felt home.
Then he began to feel something else—specifically, Adele’s breasts, her stomach, her pelvis, and knew he needed to pull away before he again lost the ability to say what he needed to say.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a half step back. “I just needed to do that.”
“No apology necessary,” Adele said, leaning back to perch on the edge of her desk. For the first time, Danny surveyed the room. If the size of and view from her office was any indication, she played a pretty important role at this place. He was impressed, though not surprised. “So,” she said. “You’re in America.”
“I am,” he said, feeling relief that the thick sexual chemistry they’d experienced in Bali hadn’t disappeared with the tropical heat. When he didn’t elaborate, she nodded her chin slightly and cocked an eyebrow, an invitation to go on. “I got back to the States a month or so ago actually. Was in Chicago for a bit. Got to Seattle yesterday.”
He paused. There was so much to say, he didn’t know where to start. He knew he’d planned this all out but it was gone now, his mind devoid of words. He wished she’d ask him some questions, get his brain working again.
“As I’m sure you can imagine, I have a lot of questions,” she said, as if reading his mind. He almost heaved a deep sigh of relief, but then she continued, “but I’ll save those for later. For now I just need to know why. Why are you here, Danny?”
He locked eyes with her, and the words came back.
“I felt different after you left,” he began. “I missed you, of course that was part of it, but it was more than that. More of a…a fundamental shift in how I viewed my life. It was crazy—I’d been living that life for six years, and it had its problems but they never bothered me at all really. I had the beach, the waves, nature. I had time to myself, time to read and surf and think and meet interesting people, I had a job that didn’t ask too much of me and let me work from anywhere in the world and paid the bills and then some. It was easy and simple and nothing more or less than I needed.”
He saw Adele’s facial expression shift slightly when he referred to his job in the past tense, but she said nothing.
“But then once you came, and then left, I don’t know,” he looked out the window, squinting at the gleaming sun finally peaking out from the morass of clouds. “It was suddenly like I needed more. My life wasn’t enough anymore. I didn’t just want passing friendships with whoever happened to show up—I wanted real friends. And to see my family more than once a year, to stop being so Goddamn scared of loving them as much as I do. And love. I didn’t want one-week or two-day flings with people visiting—not that I had many of those at all,” he quickly added, berating himself for putting his foot in his mouth, but Adele just smiled. “I wanted a real connection with someone, something that lasts, something with some actual meaning to it. Even if it means things end up the way they did with me and Nikki. It’s like my life priorities suddenly flipped. I don’t want to be safe and defensive and content anymore. I want to be scared and open and happy, really happy, like stupidly happy.” He looked at her, and she didn’t smile, but her face said so much more than a smile could. She looked like she understood. “And I knew I couldn’t feel that way there.”
“That’s a lot,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable taking credit for such big feelings,” she laughed a bit and looked down, thrusting her hands in the pockets of her tailored gray pants. It reminded Danny of the bashful manner she had the first night they met, at the resort restaurant.
“Well regardless of whether you take credit or not, I blame you,” he said, smiling wide so that she knew he meant it well. He cleared his throat and moved his gaze to the floor before continuing, “My job, too. I wanted a job that I wasn’t ashamed of. A job that I didn’t have to do with my eyes half-closed to avoid really looking at the results of my work. Y’know, maybe not saving the world or anything, but something that didn’t actively hurt people.” He felt his eyes fill with tears. “I’m really sorry, Adele. To you, of course, but I also want you to understand that I’m sorry to all the people whose lives my work made worse. I was just shoving my morals in the back of the closet because it made my life easy—that’s not an excuse, just an explanation—but now they’re out in plain view.” He glanced up, caught her eye, and saw her looking back with kindness. He didn’t know what forgiveness looked like, but this seemed like a good approximation.
“So I left, and then you quit your job and packed your stuff and hopped a plane back to the States?” She asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Pretty much,” he said, laughing, and she joined his laughter. “Well, not exactly. I spent a few weeks thinking it over, and then a few more tying up loose ends and letting my knee heal enough to be able to travel.”
“Oh!” She sprung up off her desk. “I’m so sorry! Your knee! I totally forgot, how is it? Jesus, I wouldn’t have put
you in half-moon pose if I’d known it was you!”
She’d stepped forward and was standing close to him again. She reached out to touch him, but let her hand fall.
“Don’t worry about it,” he waved her off. “I’m good as new.” She nodded, but stayed put where she stood. “So I got my Bali life all squared away, and quit my job, and found a new one—”
“Oh?” Adele said, one eyebrow raised to the ceiling.
“Yeah,” he said, “but we can talk about that in a minute. And then I ate one last nasi goreng and hopped on a plane and ended that era of my life. Went to Chicago to work with some physical therapists and sports med guys and see my family and stalk you online. Decided the best way to find you would be to come to one of your office yoga classes that you post about so frequently on your public Facebook profile,” he said, a sly grin coming over his face.
“You Facebook-stalked me?” She squealed, faux-outraged.
“Sure did,” he said, and took a micro-step closer. “I thought that a yoga class would be an appropriate place for our reunion.”
“Yeah?” She said. A puff of her hot breath touched his neck.
“Your letter,” he said, then trailed off, raising his hand to touch her arm.
“My letter,” she repeated. Her eyes were soft, her lips slightly parted.
“It’s the most meaningful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I want to be all of those things to you. I want to be savasana, and downward dog, and—“
“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, raising one finger to his lips. “But I can think of some other poses I’d like to try first.”
He opened his mouth in protest, feeling like he should finish his profession, but then Adele slipped her slender finger between his lips. For the second time that day, his knees almost buckled.
He closed his eyes, tasting her salty skin, and slid his arm around to her lower back, pulling her close. As he sucked on her finger, she leaned her upper body backward slightly so that her pelvis pushed up against his. He’d grown hard almost instantly, and could feel himself filling the warm opening between her legs. She moaned, pulled her finger out of his mouth, and stood upright.
They locked eyes for a moment before she pulled him in for a kiss, her tongue taking the place of her finger. He fumbled blindly, moving her backward until they hit the edge of her desk, and then lowered her carefully down. She splayed her arms out behind her head, sending papers flying to the floor, and looked up at him.
“You want meaning?” She said, smiling slyly. “I might know where you can find it.”
She trailed two fingertips up her inner thigh.
“Oh man,” he murmured, leaning forward to unbutton her blouse. One button at a time, he worked his way down, kissing her bare chest as it revealed itself. Her skin was pearly white, an exciting contrast to the sun-kissed skin he’d seen in Bali, and he felt a thrill through his body at this foreignness. He moved down her abdomen, let his tongue circle her belly button, and then down to the top of her pants. As quickly as he could, he undid the buttons, sliding them down to the floor along with her lacy black boyshorts. There was no time to waste here. He pressed his mouth against her, flicked his tongue inside for a moment, then moved to her inner thighs.
“God,” she whispered, and he glanced up. She glanced down at the same time, propping herself up to meet his eyes. “Get up here,” she said, unclipping her bra and tossing it to the floor. Her breasts were, if possible, even more perfect than he’d remembered.
Then he was standing over her, straddled by her bare legs, looking down at her taut stomach, her small round breasts, her erect pink nipples, the smooth lines of her collarbone and gently sloping neck, her delicate and open face, her hair spread wild behind her, cascading over the back of the desk. Behind her, out the enormous window, the newly emerged sun had begun its descent and was beginning to tinge the sky with pinks and oranges, the horizon dotted with the reasonable skyscrapers of Seattle’s downtown. He stood still for a moment and took it in. This was what he’d left Bali for.
She snapped the stretchy material of his shorts, slid one finger under the waistband, beckoned him down. He didn’t need any more than that.
He was on top of her, letting her silky skin cushion him. He wanted to be careful not to put too much weight on her, but she kept pulling him down, wanting more, and so finally he fully abandoned himself, letting every inch of his body press against every inch of hers, nothing held back. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling his pulsing erection closer to her, and they both seemed to suddenly realize that he still had his ridiculous yoga shorts on.
She used her feet—still strapped into snake-print stilettos, so unbearably sexy Danny could barely handle it—to hook around the spandex and tug the shorts down his legs, while he scrambled to do the same with his hands. She rose up, yanked his t-shirt off him, and lowered herself back down to the desk, letting her hands slide over the muscles of his stomach as she did so. She sighed, closed her eyes, then opened them. Looking down at her, Danny was struck with wonder at the fact that he still had so much to learn about this woman that he knew he loved.
“I understand why you waited two months to come here,” she said, running flat palms along the sides of his thighs. “But what the hell are you waiting for right now?” Her hands circled around back, gripped his ass, and pulled him toward her. He pulled one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it, and used his other hand to guide himself inside her. It almost seemed as though the build-up of desire had caused him to grow slightly; he moved slowly, gently, watching her face and listening to her breath for cues. It was the tightest fit he’d ever experienced, and despite the wave of intense pleasure washing over him, he fixed his eyes on her, concerned that she might be in pain. But her eyes were gently closed, one hand caressing his shoulder, the other trailing circles around her own breast, and both her breath and the soft noises from her mouth showed that she was just fine.
With that okay, he began thrusting, feeling her body shift to fit his every movement. He brought both hands down to join hers at her breasts, feeling her nipples between his fingertips. There were no crashing waves or ocean breezes this time, only the sounds of their moans, her sharp intakes of breath, his exhales, the papers shuffling under her body and flapping to the floor.
He began to move more slowly and not let himself fill her fully. It was partly a tease, but also because he knew that if he kept going as he had been, he would’ve been done in a matter of moments. She squirmed under the suspense, arched her back as if to try to get more of what he was withholding.
Her eyes were open now, her hands back on his ass. She guided his thrusts with her hands, moving his hips in an almost circular motion, slowly and rhythmically. Overpowering pleasure began to overtake him again—turns out slowness wasn’t a safeguard—and he closed his eyes, let his head drop back.
“No,” she murmured, her voice clear but soft. “Here.”
He knew exactly what she meant, and snapped his head back up, lowering his torso once again on top of hers so that their faces were close.
“Yes,” she whispered, and he began to thrust again, first with the rhythm she’d established, then faster, deeper. Fireworks were beginning to go off in his every nerve ending. He started to let out a deep moan, but Adele clapped a hand over his mouth; somehow, this made everything even sexier, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. Muffled by her hand, he abandoned himself to a body-shaking orgasm, the thunderous roar of pleasure throbbing outward from his pelvis to his fingertips. As the intensity began to taper, Adele began to arch her back more urgently, and her breathing quickened. She opened her mouth to make a sound, and this time he clapped a hand over her. She could feel her open mouth against his palm, her hot breath, a flick of her tongue. Underneath his body, she writhed and bucked, almost lifting herself off of the desk with the force of whatever was passing through her, and then, after one hanging moment of stillness, released back down, panting.
He took his hand off her
mouth. She took her hand off of his. For the second time that day, they both burst out laughing.
Chapter 27
After their laughter had subsided and they’d put their clothes back on—Adele in a panicked frenzy when a secretary knocked on the door to deliver a message, while Danny crouched half-naked under the desk—they both perched on the desk, looking out the window at the city. By then, the sun hung low in the sky, dangling heavily at the world’s edge. The buildings were backlit by an orange glow.
Everything seemed slow and peaceful. Adele had forgotten that she could induce this feeling with something besides yoga. Now it all came back to her—love, sex, blissful exhaustion—that was another source of peace. Another source of knowing yourself.
Of course, she’d never felt it with such intensity before. The thrill of seeing Danny’s face in her office, in her yoga class, still coursed through her veins, but she knew that this feeling was more than a passing novelty. She was trying to pinpoint the reasons behind her certainty, but her thoughts were slippery.
“Hey,” Danny’s voice cut into her musings. He put a hand on top of hers, both resting on the desk between them. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry,” she laughed, shook her head. “Just thinking. Or trying to think. Failing.”
“Thinking’s overrated,” he said. He smiled serenely and looked back out the window at the show the sky was putting on.
“Agreed,” she said, nodding. But then her relentless right brain cut in, rapping on her peaceful moment with the question that she hadn’t asked before, the question she was afraid of having answered.
“You just tensed up,” he said. He lifted his hand from on top of hers and squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Where are you staying?” She asked, keeping her eyes fixed on one building straight ahead. She was dancing around it.
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