I’d been sitting on the edge of my bed, scrolling through my phone, pretending not to watch Maya as she stood in front of the mirror in her white slip dress. The thin fabric clung to her in the warm room, and I could see the outline of her underwear through the material. She knew I could see. She’d known every time she “forgot” to wear a robe in the mornings.
She turned around. The strap of her dress had slid down her shoulder, resting against her upper arm, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the soft skin beneath.
“Your strap fell,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Maya looked down, as if noticing for the first time. But she didn’t fix it. She just stepped closer, until she was standing between my knees, looking down at me with an expression that made my mouth go dry.
“You sure about this?” I asked, because I needed to hear her say it. Because once I touched her, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
She nodded. Just once. Small. Definite.
I reached up, my hands finding her waist, and I pulled her down. She came willingly, climbing onto my lap, her knees settling on either side of my hips, the slip dress riding up her thighs. I kissed her. Deep. Hungry. Like I’d been imagining this exact moment since the day she moved in and I saw her making coffee in my kitchen.
The slip dress came off in one pull. She lifted her arms, and I dragged the fabric over her head, dropping it on the floor beside the bed. She was bare underneath. No bra. No underwear. Just her, warm and trembling and finally honest.
She climbed onto my lap and showed me exactly how long she’d been waiting. Her hips rolled against mine, her hands tangled in my hair, her mouth hot against my throat as she whispered things she’d never said out loud before.
“I used to touch myself listening to you shower,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I used to imagine you were touching me instead.”
I flipped her onto the bed. “Show me,” I whispered. “Show me exactly what you imagined.”
She did. And I made sure reality was better than the fantasy.
