Chapter 4
She has that little crinkle between her eyes again. I reach up my thumb and brush it over the worry line. Trying to soothe it away. She angles her head. I watch her look at my mouth and then back at my eyes. I can't take this any longer. I am not strong enough to resist any longer. I want this so much. I lean forward, cup her cheek gently, and I press my lips against hers. They are soft and yield to mine instantly. She sighs and suddenly I am gripping her tightly and my mouth is urgently exploring hers. Her tongue dances around mine and her hands slide down my back and I press her into me more firmly. I forget where I am as my hands slide over the curve of her hips. I forget who I am as she moans softly and melds her hips to mine. I forget the world as the wedding guests stare at us in the middle of the dance floor, silver spotlights swirling over us. It is only the rhythmic clinking of spoons on glasses that finally awakens me and I softly pull back to look in her eyes. They are glassy and heavy lidded and her berry lips are swollen. I was wrong when I thought this morning she would never be more beautiful to me.
She is now.
And as she slipped her fingers into mine and laid her head upon my shoulder I wondered how I was ever going to be just her partner, again.
"Can we get out of here?" she asks tentatively.
"Yeah let's go." I have had enough of all the stares, of conformity, of Sweets watching us like a hawk in the corridor. I pull her after me and head for the balcony doors. She stops and tugs my hands to turn me around.
"Not out there Booth." My name is a ghost of a whisper on her lips. For somebody who embraces every character she plays with gusto, she sure is reminding me this evening, that it is me she is talking too, and not my alter ego.
"Where do you want to go?"
"To the room."
Oh boy.
We dodge compliments and handshakes, decline offers of champagne being pressed in our hands and suddenly find ourselves in the foyer. The smell of lilies is strong, and the peaceful gushing of the waterfall can be heard more clearly. She takes the lead, stepping onto the first step of the curved, sweeping staircase and looks down on me, eyes glittering with fire. I cannot decipher that look. I feel like I am in a parallel universe. One where I actually am married, to a beautiful woman who I am hopelessly in love with. But reality and desperate fantasy keep tangling inside my head. She reaches for my hand and I give it to her, just as willingly as I would give her my heart, and follow her up the staircase.
There is a grandiose chandelier overhanging the stairwell at the top, and as we pass, rainbows of sunlight arc through the crystal. It bounces off her tiara and for a second I am mesmerized by her luminous skin, and the iridescence of the tiny crystals on the bodice of her dress.
I follow her down the corridor to the honeymoon suite and she fumbles inside her satin bag for the key. We don't speak. I have no coherent thought running through my head right now.
Only one, obtrusively inappropriate one.
I love you.