2016

I wonder what's under her dressing gown.

That was my first thought when Iona's door swung open. I could see her legs were bare, her toenails painted a violet colour. Of course they were purple.

"Hey," I said, running a hand through my hair nervously. "Sorry I'm a bit later than planned; turns out I had a bit more to say to Martin than I thought."

I pressed a kiss to her soft cheek, my nerve endings prickling at the feeling of her velvety skin against my lips. "What happened?" She asked me.

So I gave a quick overview of our conversation. I left out why Martin had tried to wreck our potential relationship though. That could keep for another day. While I couldn't keep my hands off Iona for much longer.

"I said he could stay tonight but I never want him to come near this hotel again." I actually still couldn't believe how angry I'd been; I was never normally confrontational like that, even when provoked.

"But are you not worried he might leave you negative reviews everywhere?" She asked me, looking worried. Iona Stewart, the very reason for my bravery tonight.

And I snapped.

"Fuck that. I honestly couldn't care less at this point." I stepped towards her, tangling my hands inside her wild curls. "His lies cost me you. A bad review is never going to feel anywhere near as bad as losing you did."

And with that, I kissed her again. It was unbelievably sweet. Gentle.

Until it wasn't.

I snapped even further, and kissed her harder, pushing her up against the door, surrendering completely to my feelings. I was done with pretending; my guard was completely lowered. For good.

She responded with the same passion, and if I'd had any doubt at all at this point (which, for the record, I didn't), the return of that moan of hers would have convinced me that this was 100 percent reciprocated.

Laughing, I pulled her towards the bed. "I'm going to have to apologise in advance for what is probably going to happen," I managed to say.

"What do you mean?" She whispered. Her eyes were darker than usual, her lips soft and parted, and her face flushed. I had never wanted this girl more than I wanted her right now. And I had wanted her for a really long time.

So I told her that.

"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to hold back," I added.

"Good," she replied. "Because I don't want you to."

My legs practically gave out on me as I sank onto the bed, and reached for her dressing gown cord. I was nervous, and trembling with need, and absolutely bursting to unwrap this gift I'd by some miracle been finally given.

"Do it," she breathed, looking down at the cord too.

I pulled at it, revealing the present within. The lilac dress thing she was wearing took me closer, but not quite near enough. It was like the version of pass-the-parcel where the music stops, and you take off a layer of shiny gift-wrap to reveal . . . another layer of gift-wrap underneath.

She was killing me already, and I still had at least one more round of the game to go.

"Fuck." I rubbed at my face, trying to make a joke to calm myself down. "And here I thought you'd be wearing pyjamas with mice eating different types of cheese, or something equally ridiculous."

She giggled, looking embarrassed and turned on all at once. "I thought I should dress a bit more suitably for the occasion," she quipped.

"To be perfectly honest, you could be wearing a onesie and I'd still be into this," I said honestly. "But I'd still be wanting to get you out of it," I added. (Yeah, I thought that was pretty smooth too, thank you!) I helped her pull the dress over her head and . . .

"Fuck." I hissed in air sharply, admiring her shapely legs, the curve of her waist, the purple bra that accentuated her breasts . . . The vulnerable expression on her face morphed into something more confident, even proud, as I took in the vision in front of me.

She was what I'd dreamt of for so long. And yet she was still somehow surpassing my greatest fantasies.

She was a fucking goddess.

I gulped, reaching for her. "Iona? I think there's a good chance you're going to kill me tonight." My tone was rueful. But I meant every word.

I don't even know how I did it, but next thing I had her flat on her back on the bed, my face inches from hers, breathing in that unreal vanilla scent. How did she still smell the same after all this time? My brain was quickly shutting down, and something more animalistic inside me was taking over.

I traced my lips down the side of her neck, unable to resist sinking my teeth lightly into her skin. "You're so fucking soft," I bit out, inhaling her again. I, on the other hand, was so fucking hard.

"You need to remove some clothes already," Iona said breathlessly. "Tit for tat, and all that."

"Fine," I sighed, straightening up. I was aware I sounded a bit impatient, but I didn't care at that point. I'd waited so long for this moment, never quite sure if I would actually ever be in this position, and I wanted to get my full fix of her first. My fingers fumbled, almost angrily, with the buttons of my shirt, but I suppose it was worth the exasperation when I removed it, and Iona's face lit up.

"Fuck," she said softly, echoing my own words from earlier, admiration clear in her tone.

I found myself laughing, knowing I was blushing, of course. "I'm going to take that as a compliment." Looked like all those hours I'd spent over the years taking my frustration out on exercise had paid off. I wasn't wasting any more time though, and I reached for her pants, moving them down her legs.

"Hey!" She protested, hands reaching towards the fly on my trousers, but I shook my head firmly.

"I've got other priorities right now," I hissed, throwing the lacy knickers to one side. I needed to taste her. I dropped a kiss to her thigh, tantalisingly close to her clit, and felt her shiver in response. Fascinated, I tentatively dipped a finger inside her. "You're so wet," I couldn't help but comment, my gaze intent on her.

She was so wet for me. I didn't actually realise it was possible for me to get more aroused at that point. But it seemed I was.

She blushed. "Sorry," she mumbled. Why the fuck was she apologising? I moved back up her body, reassuring her that I loved it, kissing her again.

Then I had no choice but move back down between her legs: to stroke her with my tongue; feel her tremble against my fingers; watch her fall apart in the best way possible.

After all those years of uncertainty, the push/pull, the "will-they-won't-they", I was finally in control of the situation and I didn't want to let that go. So, as soon as she started to come down from her orgasm, I began to shed the rest of my clothes, and helped her out of her bra.

I was in Iona Stewart's bed. And she was naked. This had to be some sort of mirage surely?

Our lips met again, but our hands didn't stop exploring once another. I couldn't resist pinching one of her nipples, twisting it slightly, gratified to hear her gasp out. Her hand moved down to my erection, and when she stroked her hand along it, I think I actually growled. Like a fucking bear. But I didn't even care by this point.

"Condom." I demanded, spotting the box on the bedside table. It seemed I'd regressed to caveman-mode, only able to communicate in one-word-sentences. All I could think of was how much I wanted, needed, to be inside her. She moaned as I entered her, and once again that sound rocked my fucking world. I chuckled, despite myself. "That's my girl," I uttered, involuntarily. And I knew that she was my girl now. Finally.

I hooked one of her legs around my waist as I thrust into her, my mouth finding hers again. Hearts pounding, bodies writhing, pushing me ever-closer to the point of no return. As I hovered on the cusp, our eyes suddenly locked, and the look we exchanged told me everything I needed to know.

This girl loved me every bit as much as I loved her.

And, with that thought, it was my turn to fall apart.

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