Only The Beginning

Chapter Five

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Melissa blinked a few times, trying to remember the dream. A sense of bliss made her smile into the pillow. She was warm and the bed covers were tucked around her like a cocoon. It must be Saturday, she thought.

There was a shift in the bed behind her, followed by a low sigh.

She froze. In a series of flashing images, it all came back.

The pub. Craig. The intense stare of his eyes. The way he'd kissed her as he unzipped the back of her skirt. He made her feel like she was the most desirable woman on the planet, that there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep touching her.

And she'd reciprocated, opening up to him, losing all her inhibitions. She imagined this was what Lovers' Oasis was like. The anonymity combined with the fantasy created a freedom Melissa had never experienced before, not ever.

But now reality set in. She'd woken naked, next to a man she barely knew and the earlier courage she'd felt—the reckless delirious abandonment that augmented her physical enjoyment of the afternoon encounter—had morphed into terrified embarrassment.

There was only one choice—she had to leave before he woke. Slowly, she slipped one leg out, her foot searching for the floor. Then she inched her way to the edge of the bed, carefully making sure not to jostle the mattress.

She stood, completely naked, looking down at Craig. He was on his back, one hand was on his chest gently rising and falling as he slept. The sheets pooled at his waist. His face was completely relaxed, his mouth opened slightly, lips parted.

A warmth began to stir inside her, remembering how those lips felt. He'd memorized each of her breasts with his tongue as his fingers slipped down her belly then nestled between her thighs. She'd come for him, then. So quickly...so easily.

Her purse buzzed from the floor making Melissa jump. It sounded like a marching band had exploded through the door. She crouched down and lunged for the purse, grabbing the phone and silencing it. Melissa waited, but there was no movement from the bed. A quiet breath eased through her pursed lips. She read her phone; there were multiple messages from Brooke. The  last one was marked "urgent."

—Where are you?—

Melissa scrolled back through the messages and her heart began to pound. Brooke had snagged her a coveted meeting with Mr. Donaghy at four-thirty this afternoon. It was now three-fifty.

Fire alarms went off in Melissa's brain. Scrambling on her knees, she grabbed her clothes, all distributed on the floor. "Underwear," she breathed. She looked at the bed and realized the pair must be caught up in the sheets.

She checked her phone again, three-fifty-five. With shaking fingers, she got dressed in lightning speed, tucked her purse under her arm, and made her way to the door. She gave the bed one more glance.

I could leave a note? Leave my number?

A silent war began between Melissa's heart and brain. What would happen if I just slipped back into bed with him? Maybe start to kiss him on that full mouth, trace that fine line of hair from his navel to his...

The phone vibrated in her hands. The jolt made her jump.

—Where are you!—

She answered:

—On my way—

The elevator ride down to the lobby was mercifully empty. She managed to tidy her hair somewhat. She calmly got a taxi, waiting in the queue at the front of the hotel. A layer of somberness dulled the flames of passion and fantasy.