RISK
Warning: Some curses.
Wade, she learns, is full of surprises.
She has high expectations – you don't get the reputation he has by being less than excellent in bed.
She isn't disappointed – on the contrary – but he isn't what she was expecting.
When she turned on that coffee machine, she was expecting him to come over, kiss her, and then proceed to fuck her against the closest hard surface.
It starts out like that; he stalks towards her so purposefully that he has her against the wall before she even realises she is moving, and they're shedding clothes so fast she loses track; all she knows is that her hands are on his back, and she can't stop running her hands over those muscles.
He's pressing into her and her legs are wrapped around his waist, and she's almost expecting him to take her right there, but instead he lifts her – delicately, as if she's fragile, and carries her to her bed, laying her down and continuing to kiss her senseless.
It gets to a point where she's begging him; clawing at their remaining clothing, because she's getting desperate.
He just pins her hands above her head and smirks.
"Patience, Zoe," he teases, and she isn't sure she's ever heard him use her first name before, but she likes the way it sounds on his lips.
There's smiling and laughing afterwards, something she's never associated with sex before Wade.
He has this smug smirk on his face because, okay, he's probably (definitely) the best she's ever had and he knows it.
But she goes to answer the door and the mood is ruined; the playfulness replaced with tension and confusion that thickens the air.
Wade's smile is hopeful – too hopeful – like he thinks she's about to climb back into bed so they can continue as he suggested.
But she can't, not now, because even if she doesn't tell him right away, he's going to find out that it was George at the door.
There's a tiny part of her that thinks this could be a good thing. That she'll finally get to know where she stands.
She can't deny there have been moments – flickers – with Wade from day one, but every time he does something to make her think there might actually be feelings involved, he goes out of his way to make it clear she'd just be another notch in his bedpost.
She tells him that it was George at the door and that the wedding didn't happen, hope on her face that she can't erase as she waits for his reaction.
It's all or nothing, she thinks.
He can take the one night stand, they can never speak of this night again and she can give things a try with George, or he can admit that there's something other than sexual tension between them and they can do this again tomorrow night and see where things go.
There's disappointment in his eyes as he stands quickly, pulling his clothes on haphazardly.
"Wade," she starts, but he keeps his eyes trained on the floor, following the trail of clothes to the door.
"Congrats, doc," he says, his anger filled eyes snapping up to meet hers. "You got everything you wanted."
He's gone before she can process his reaction, and when she does she's running out into the rain, still in the flimsy silk robe she pulled on to open the door.
"Wade!" She screams, seconds away from calling him an asshole for forcing her to follow him out when it's pouring with rain but ultimately deciding against it.
She sees him turn to face her in the distance, and when she reaches him there's a look of utter confusion on his face that makes her smile.
They're too similar – both too afraid of rejection to put themselves on the line, and she realises that she can't keep expecting him to be the one to take the risk.
She stands before him, face tilted up as the rain pelts down, hesitating for a moment before kissing him soundly.