Author's Note: This one is also super long, probably because it's the sequel to the last one. The next one will probably be shorter. I almost made a THIRD chapter to this Lulu's Wedding Saga, but decided against it. It might come up later if the right word comes along. Anyway, this is for the August 8th word. Enjoy!
Follows C5 - Ambsace.
chaptalize: to increase the alcohol in a wine by adding sugar.
From the dance floor, Ethan aimed straight for the bar on his way to the exit. He grabbed a glass of the venue's own wine in each hand, rethought it and picked up one more before leaving. He couldn't stay in the ballroom for one second more. What just happened on that floor… His heart hadn't stopped pounding in his chest yet. He didn't know if it ever would. He took a deep breath, the floral aroma causing him to look around at his surroundings. Outside of the mansion where Lulu's wedding was being held were gorgeous gardens, one of which he found himself in now. Up ahead of him was a stone bench positioned by a fountain. Fine a place as any to start drinking away this night.
The temperature was a bit cooler than normal for late summer, the night less humid with a calming breeze that would have settled him on any other night. A night that didn't consist of him and Maya doing… whatever they'd done. He couldn't even explain what happened to himself. Was it flirting? Seduction? A contest of wills? Or near surrender on both their parts?
It was a frightening enough thought for him to down the first glass of wine in one swallow, the potency surprising him in its strength. Sitting the empty glass and one full one next to him on the bench, Ethan held the last between his hands, rolling it back and forth, watching the liquid swirl in the crystal.
"You bloody idiot," he mumbled to himself. He let himself get too close to her. Touching her, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, feeling her hands on him… He wanted to fall right back into her. Just one more time. But he was at least smart enough to know that once more would never, ever be enough. Not with her.
He glanced up from his glass and found that he had a direct view inside a room of the large house. It was one of the sitting rooms off the side of the main ballroom. And lo and behold, look who was in there. The temptress herself. He could not win tonight. From his location, he saw her sit on one of the couches, an identical glass of wine in her hand, as well. But where Ethan drowned his, Maya placed hers on the table in front of her. Head in her hands, he thought he saw her shoulders shake before she rose to pace the room, fingers swiping at her eyes now and then.
What had they done to each other? Trying to prove that they could handle being close did nothing but show that was the one thing they couldn't do. There was still too much there. Too much lust, too much passion, too much betrayal, and, at least on his end, too much love. He felt like ten kinds of fool, but there it was. He still loved her.
He continued to watch her slowly circle the room, returning to the couch from which she'd started. When she picked up her glass from the table, he lifted his, too. This time Ethan sipped the strong libation, while her actions mirrored the way he devoured glass number one. It's his second glass that allows the crazy thoughts float to the forefront of his brain. He started thinking that maybe he was wrong, maybe they could have one more time. It could be exactly what they need, to just work each other out of their systems.
On the heels of that thought, Maya paused in front of the window and saw him. Hardly three seconds passed before she went straight to the door, opened it, and stood in the doorway, arms on both sides of the jamb.
Time seemed to stand still. Rooted to the bench, Ethan couldn't move, and didn't know if he should. He could see in her face, in her body language that they'd had similar thoughts. But could anything good really come of this? It was unlikely that they would seamlessly go back to their lives if they acted on this insane passion. One, or both, of them would carry the scars they'd undoubtedly leave on each other. Yet aware of that, he knew that if she made the move, he wouldn't be able to resist her. Not again. Not twice in one night. No matter what she'd done to him before. Because, fuck it all, he still loved her and was starting to believe that she was it for him.
Maya whispered his name, the sound carrying to him on the wind, longing, regret, and want laced throughout the five letters. She wasn't too far, only a short winding stone path from the door to the fountain separated them. She was the first to move, taking the steps that would bring her closer to him. On a sigh, he recognized for the last time that he never had a chance. Neither of them did, really. Something inside of them was drawn to each other and it seemed like a bond that wasn't going to break, despite their wish to be done with it. Before she reached him, he finished the second and drowned the third glass of wine.
He didn't say anything when she stopped in front of him; Maya didn't, either. What was there to say? They reached for each other at almost the same exact time. His hands cupped her face, hers slid inside his suit jacket, gripping his shirt for dear life. Their mouths collided and they fell into the familiar rhythm as if no time had passed. Kissing her was like finding something he'd lost. It started in a rush, two people afraid this was all they'd have, but gradually developed into a languid reunion of lips. His head spun, from the wine or the kiss or the combination of both, Ethan didn't know. It didn't matter and he didn't care. No woman since her had been able to make him feel like this. To make him forget everything but her, to set his entire body on fire with a kiss. His hands left her face to travel along her body, skimming down her sides to her ass, and fitting her to him. He greedily swallowed the moan she gave in response.
It wasn't when her hands moved up the front of his shirt, caressing and rubbing as she went, until she reached his collar, that her mouth left his. Hands fisted into his hair, Maya kissed his jaw, up to his ear. "Ethan, I -"
"No, don't," he interrupted, his voice a desire filled growl. Ethan didn't want to hear that she was sorry, that she missed him, that she'd made a mistake, or that she hadn't meant to hurt him, that she had a wonderful new life. He didn't want to know. All he wanted was to feel. Feel her, feel them. In this moment that belonged only to the two of them. "Let's just…"
"Ok." Her lips burned an unhurried path back to his, as he continued to rediscover her taste, and she his. She didn't need him to finish the sentence; she understood.
Reality would intervene soon enough.