Chapter 9: Wedding Night

The elevator doors closed on the last of the wedding guests, and Heath and I stood side by side without touching.

Thirty floors.

Neither of us said a word.

I could still feel the kiss on my mouth.

It had lasted too long to be for show, and we both knew it, and we'd spent four hours of cake and handshakes pretending we didn't.

The doors opened on his apartment.

He let me walk in first.

I stood in the middle of the long grey room in my grandmother's dress and my bare feet, with my shoes in my hand.

"Third bedroom is the one on the left," Heath said behind me. "Second term."

"I know where it is."

"Then go to it."

I turned around.

He stood by the elevator with his jacket already off and his tie loose, and the old burn scar was a pale line down his arm.

He was holding himself very still.

"Forty buttons," I said.

He didn't move.

"I can't reach them, Heath. I couldn't reach them on Monday either." I set my shoes down on the floor. "Gran said chop chop."

The muscle in his jaw jumped.

"Addie."

"I'm not asking you to carry a box."

"You're asking something much worse."

"I'm asking you to undo my dress."

For a second he did nothing.

Then he crossed the room, and I turned and put my back to him.

His fingers found the first button at the top of my spine.

The second.

He went slowly, one at a time, and I felt every one give.

His knuckles dragged down my skin, and I stopped being able to feel my legs.

"You said Friday you'd be looking at me," I said, to the wall. "The way he never did."

"I meant it."

"Then look."

At the twentieth button he put his mouth on the back of my neck.

I made a sound I'd never made in front of anyone.

"There," he said into my skin. "That's one thing I've wanted for eight years."

Something went tight and hot low in my belly.

I didn't ask what he meant.

He undid the rest faster, and the silk slid off my shoulders and pooled at my feet.

I stood in my slip, with his hands flat on my hips.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned.

He looked at me with nothing held back, and it was the way I'd wanted someone to look at me all my life.