The door clicks shut behind her and my head immediately falls back against the headboard.

Damn it.

Of all the things that could have happened this morning, Monica quickly getting dressed and running out the door is not what I hoped for.

"I don't want to look" my ass.

Of course I wanted to look. I got to look at her all last night and it was spectacular.

Everything about last night was spectacular.

I sink down in the bed, groaning, and am immediately hit with a wall of her. My entire bed smells like her. I smell like her.

I close my eyes and sigh. Last night was the best, most amazing night of my life. It was perfect. I got to have sex with Monica—repeatedly. I somehow managed to make her actually scream my name.

Wow. I think I just now realized that.

Monica was here with me last night—all night—and I made her make sounds I've never heard a woman make before.

In all fairness, she did the same for me. I've never felt anything like it before in my entire life. I've never felt so…whole.

Could she be—

I try to nip that thought in the bud before it completely forms. One night together does not a future make. Besides; I have no idea how much last night meant to her, if it even meant anything.

It…had to mean something, though, right? You can't possibly have sex with someone seven times in one night and it not mean something.

I know for a fact that I can't.

Of course, we might have had a chance to talk about some of this had it not been for Ross and his excessive enthusiasm.

I can't even imagine his reaction if he'd seen Monica in bed with me. To say that it would have put a damper on his wedding day would probably be an understatement.

Ross made it awkward, though, even without meaning to. I knew Monica was awake—I could tell by the way she was breathing. I don't think either of us were ready to face the day. Being able to sleep next to her like that was amazing in its own way and I wasn't ready to give it up.

I look to door she bolted out of just a minute ago—I want so badly to go after her, to bring her back here or follow her to her room so we can have an encore performance.

But…what if she regrets it? That thought kills me. I can probably live with her never wanting to sleep with me again. Maybe. But I don't think I could survive it if she thought it was all a mistake.

That thought is enough to keep me glued to my spot. Well, that, and I'm not sure if my legs are working yet. I really can't be sure that I won't immediately fall over when I try to stand, and I don't relish having to explain to anyone why I was found passed out on the floor naked.

God, why did it have to be awkward? Why isn't she still here, curled up next to me, enjoying a morning of post-coital bliss?

"Damn it damn it damn it!" I mumble, throwing the blankets off of me, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and burying my face in my hands. I've screwed this up somehow. Any chance I ever had with Monica is gone forever. I don't even think I can console myself with the memory of last night. Now that I know how mind-blowing being with her is, I only want more.

What I wouldn't give to be able to kiss her right now.

I want her. I want her with an intensity I didn't know was in me.

I just don't know if there's anything I can do that will make her my reality.

I hit my hands on the side of the bed and stand up.

Then I gasp in pain and sit right back down.

Holy crap is my body sore. I wasn't expecting that. I guess it has been a while since those muscles were used. Hell—I'm pretty sure there were a few muscles that got used for the very first time last night.

I stand up again, cautiously this time. I stretch out my limbs—yes, things are sore, but it seems not unpleasantly so. I walk into the bathroom, my mind wandering back to last night. Where the hell did that guy come from? Not just all the stamina, either. I've never been the guy who takes charge like that, who tells a girl to touch herself, who throws her down on a bureau and pounds in to her while watching it all happen in a mirror.

I turn on the water in the shower, checking the temperature absentmindedly. Regardless of where that guy came from, I'm glad he showed up.

I suppose, now that I'm thinking about it, I can't really blame her for feeling uncomfortable this morning. After all, it was her brother that ran in this morning. If it were my sibling that nearly caught me naked like that, I'd probably be a little freaked out, too.

But here's what I'm really wondering—was this morning awkward because it was awkward, or was it awkward because we thought it should be awkward? Because in all honesty, I only started to feel like that this morning because I thought that's how she felt. Everything up until that point was magic; I panicked when I saw Ross, true, but other than that, I didn't feel like anything was wrong.

I still don't. Nothing has ever felt more right. The only regret I have about last night is that it's over. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Honestly, though, it wasn't just the sex that was amazing, though it undoubtedly was. It was being with Monica, the fact that all of that was happening with Monica, that for at least one night, she wanted me as much as I want her. For one night, she was mine. It wasn't weird; kissing her wasn't weird, seeing her naked wasn't weird, though it was pretty phenomenal, and having sex with her wasn't weird.

Maybe that it wasn't weird is the weirdest part of all. I feel like I could walk up to her right now and put my arm around her, and it would feel completely natural, like it was meant to be.

I wonder if she's beating herself up over last night, too, or if she's now jabbing a Q-tip in her ear repeatedly to try to dislodge the memory.

I shake my head and realize that I still haven't gotten in to the shower. I sigh as I step under the spray, aware that my thoughts are only leading me around in circles. I turn around to wet my back and let out a loud yelp, jumping out of the shower.

"What the hell?" I exclaim to myself, running over to the mirror. I grab a towel and wipe off some of the fog, contorting my body so I can see my back.

Long red lines mark my back. It takes me longer than I'd like to admit to realize those are fingernail tracks. A grin immediately splits my face. But that can't be what stung so badly. I lean closer to the mirror, wiping off some more fog and can finally see what looks like several tiny scratches on my shoulder blades. The harder I look, the more I can see. Little half-moon indentions litter my back as well.

I've never before done anything to a woman to cause her to actually scratch my back. The smile on my face grows and I feel myself start to do my happy dance. I allow myself a few moments of victory before I hop back in to the shower, a little carefully this time.

I made Monica scratch my back! On a hotness scale of one to ten, this ranks at about a million. We definitely need to do this again.

I happily scrub my body and wonder if she'd be interested in doing it tonight. I'd go to her now, but I know she has a lot of bridesmaid things to do today, so she probably won't be free until after the ceremony. But maybe during the reception—

I'm jumping the gun. I can't assume that she wants to be with me again. What if she actually does regret last night?

That…can't be, right? You don't regret sex like that, right?

Well, what if she doesn't regret the sex, but regrets doing it with me? That thought feels like a punch in the gut, mostly because that's the sort of thing that would happen to me.

I feel my chest constrict for a moment before I force myself to keep breathing. The only way I'll know is to ask, right? Try to feel her out, see where she stands with last night, and, if all goes well, maybe we'll get to have another night.

Or a few weeks.

Something like that.

As long as she has no regrets about it, I have a shot. As long as she doesn't now think less of me for last night, we could be okay.

One way or another, I'm not going to lose her. If the worst happens and she doesn't want to be with me, I'll be her friend. It will be harder than hell and I think it would kill me, but I'll be her friend.

She deserves at least that much.