Marriage by Mistake

inside. Oh, how she wanted to believe in him. She wanted to engage with him, to be together with him, both physically and emotionally. But—but—
    "I'm scared," she whispered out loud.
    The corners of his mouth quirked. "I don't blame you. I'm kind of..." His gaze slid to the side as he appeared to debate what word would describe himself.
    "Important," Felicia heard herself tell him.
    His gaze flew back to hers.
    Felicia drew in a sharp breath. Yes, Troy was important. He was the first, and only, man to have gotten through her physical inhibitions. He was the first, and only, man to make her challenge herself and her preconceived notions. "You're the only man I've ever wanted," she admitted.
    His eyes were intent, still serious, but his lips slowly curved.
    Felicia put a hand to her forehead. She'd never expected any of this, from becoming susceptible to Troy in the first place to having him standing here in her living room, telling her he wanted to be the right kind of man for her.
    "So-o-o...?" Troy tilted his head. His lips straightened again. "You're still scared."
    "Well, yes." Of course she was scared. Troy was mercurial and erratic. Hadn't she recently decided that?
    Felicia peered at him from beneath her hand. No, he wasn't really mercurial or erratic, he'd just been scared, too. And he'd gotten past it. He'd made over a hundred thousand dollars for the Boston Family Aid shelter. And he was standing here right now in her living room telling her wanted to be a real, trustworthy man for her.
    Felicia sucked in her lips. Her heart beat rapidly. Yes, she was scared—but maybe it was time for her to meet a new challenge, to do what Troy was doing, and become more than she'd previously been. "But," she said slowly, "maybe it's time to get past the fear."
    Troy started to smile. So did she. A wonderful wave of emotion rose inside of her. Oh, she wasn't done feeling scared, but she thought she was done letting her fear stop her, letting it rule or limit her life. Felicia took her hand from her forehead and stretched it across the space between them. She let her palm cup the side of Troy's face. Her fingers shook, excited by the very male feel of the roughness there, at the feel of him .
    "Oh, Troy," she murmured. "But do you think I could be the right kind of woman for you?"
    His eyes blazed. "I think you could."
    Felicia's hand pressed against the side of his face. She liked his I think . He wasn't handing out blanket assurances. "Troy," she whispered, and stepped forward to kiss him.
    His lips trembled under hers at first, and then he kissed back. The kiss quickly grew deeper, hotter, more intimate. Troy's hand moved to cover her left breast. It occurred to Felicia, fleetingly and with amusement, that she was probably about to lose her over-ripe virginity.
    "Please tell me your mother went to bridge, just like your chauffeur told my chauffeur she always does on Monday nights," Troy muttered in Felicia's ear.
    Felicia giggled. "You are wicked."
    "Not wicked, honey, just desperate. So, is she gone?"
    For a split-second Felicia hesitated, not out of fear or lack of interest, but to savor the moment, the one where she seized life with both hands. She speared her fingers into Troy's silky hair and looked up at him with smiling eyes. "She's gone."
    "Thank God," Troy muttered.
    An hour later, in her bed with the lacy canopy, Felicia lost her virginity with a happy gasp. Troy, who didn't appear to be the least bit surprised—or fazed—covered her lips very tenderly with his own. "I love you," he said.
    "That's good," Felicia replied, draping her arms around his neck. "Because I love you, too." She truly did. She loved everything about him. Though at that moment, admittedly, what held her attention was the feel of him, heavy and real, deep inside of her. Wriggling, she kissed him back. Troy hissed, and no more was said after that, in words, for a long, long while.
    ~~~
    Once he'd decided, Dean felt urgent. He didn't wait for morning but dressed and went to the airport right then, though he couldn't find an actual flight for several hours. During that time a nice bruise began to form on the left side of his jaw. Dean didn't care. He wanted to get to Vegas. He had to check on Kelly. Was she all right?
    Once in the air, Dean looked out the tiny window of the plane. He felt like he'd been asleep for two weeks. He hadn't once asked himself exactly why Kelly had left. He'd just assumed— He wasn't sure what he'd assumed.