He was going to make her say it. Her gaze went back to the empty box sitting on the veil. “We’ve never… made love.” She cringed as she said it. It sounded like the thing a high school girl would say. What adult woman called it “making love” anymore? Was she trapped in 1952?
Wasn’t it more sophisticated to call it sex or fucking? Don’t make it too romantic. Don’t make it mean too much. Just let it be a physical act that sits alongside any other feelings but doesn’t define them, because that nonsense is for movies and books. Not the life of the three dimensional. Even if those weren’t her feelings and thoughts, she was sure they must be Leo’s. With their age difference, his world had always struck her as much more adult than the world she’d inhabited, as if she’d been surrounded by children wearing adult costumes.
“Is that what you want?” His voice was soft when he asked, so soft that she almost didn’t hear it for all her inner turmoil.
Yes. No. Maybe. I think so. I don’t know. It needs to happen. It’s a bad idea. It’ll happen eventually, or maybe it won’t. Can I be with him if it never happens? Or if it does?
She heard the lock click into place and then felt more than saw as he came closer. Did she know what she was asking for? Would he hurt her? Would he be cold like before? Would it feel like rape? What if she couldn’t have normal sex again? Crossing this line meant they couldn’t uncross it. He’d left her body alone in that one way for months. Wasn’t that mercy? He could have taken it at any time but he hadn’t. And now… if he did again, did that mean that safety was gone forever? Was it okay to love him? Did it matter when she couldn’t make the feelings die anyway?
Leo pulled her up from the vanity stool and spun her around, swallowing her fears and mental screams with his kiss. She whimpered against his mouth as he took her hand in his and guided her to the bed.
“T-the windows,” she said.
Bright light poured into the glass room.
“Everyone is outside behind the house. No one can see in up here,” he said as his mouth moved over hers.
He spun her away from him to undress her. The dress didn’t have a zipper. It was all buttons down the back-at least a hundred tiny buttons. It took several long minutes to get the gown off and would probably take longer to get it back on. They were going to be late to their own wedding.
Even the fastest coupling would have their guests wondering at the delay.
Faith blushed at that, but she was too far in. She had to finish this. She couldn’t stand in front of God and all their guests and marry Leo, no matter what the ceremony meant or didn’t mean to him, unless she knew. She had to know if she could do this with him and not feel like she was dying inside.
He growled in frustration when he came to all the hooks on the corset. “All these damned buttons and hooks. Why not lock yourself in a chastity belt?”
She sucked in a breath as he squeezed the corset tighter to release her from it one small hook at a time. When she was nude, he worked quickly to get out of his own clothing.
Though the clock ticked impatiently to their wedding, he took his time. His mouth on her stayed gentle, his hands moved over her the same. When his body was inside hers, tears flowed down her cheeks with such force that she couldn’t remain quiet.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She gripped his back, her fingers pressing against the small indentations of the scars.
He searched her eyes and must have found the truth because he kept going. The tears were relief. It was nothing like that night, and in that moment with the sunlight streaming in and their guests waiting, she knew she could face anything with him.
***