Miranda hears her bedroom door click shut behind her, confirming that she's finally, finally alone with Gary. He's still holding her hand and her brain is so clouded with lust that she wants nothing but to tear their clothes off and have him completely, now.
Their eyes lock and she wonders if he's thinking the same thing. It's a relief to no longer have to hide this part of herself after so long. The tension has always been there, simmering beneath the surface and threatening everything they had, behind the walls they had built for the sake of their friendship. When she'd blurted out that she loved him at the restaurant, the wall had cracked, fractures crisscrossing its surface, and it had broken almost completely the moment they first kissed. Now their emotions are raw and exposed and a little fragile, like the fresh skin beneath a scab that's been ripped off too soon.
Almost immediately they're kissing again, swept away in a whirlwind of passion and pent up angst. Their hands clutch onto whatever flesh they can find, afraid of what will happen if they let go. She's already lost count of how many times they've kissed today, but each time is still thrillingly new. Mapping out the contours of his lips and losing herself in him is better than she's ever imagined, and she never wants it to stop. She had thought there would be relief after so long, but in fact it's only sharpened her hunger, and right now she doesn't think she will ever tire of him, of this.
His hands reach the knot of her robe, and she remembers that she's naked underneath. She breaks their kiss for a moment and he pulls back, breathless.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
She twists in his arms so she has her back to him. "This was meant to be a surprise," she says coyly, hugging the robe closed around her waist.
"It still is," he says, moving his lips to her neck, making her tremble slightly in his embrace. His desire is evident in every gesture. She turns to face him and unties the robe painfully slowly, taking her time and revelling in the power she has over him. The fabric slips off her shoulders and drops to her feet in one fluid motion. She's completely exposed.
His lips part slightly and he's silent for a few moments. Her heart is pounding in her ears. "Wow," he whispers. She feels his gaze lingering over her, and before she knows it, he's kissing her with such eagerness that he almost knocks her over. His hands finds her body for the first time, sending shivers up her spine.
She only indulges him briefly before she pushing him away. "Your turn," she demands with a grin, running her fingers over the buttons of his shirt. "It's only fair".
"But I was just getting started," he protests. "Do I have to?" he asks with a mischevious grin, undoing his shirt with renewed urgency.
"I'm afraid so," she replies, pulling his t-shirt underneath over his head and tossing it to the side. His torso freed, she runs her hands over his chest and back, relishing every inch of new skin revealed to her. His clothes are thrown aside with abandon, piece by piece until there's nothing between them.
She pulls him to her bed a little too hard, and they giggle as they tumble down onto the mattress. He crawls on top of her, trailing kisses from her abdomen up to her lips. His chest is pressed against her breasts and every touch is like electricity, raising sparks along her skin.
The skin to skin contact is like nothing she could have anticipated. Laying on her bed, kissing him, touching him, feeling his weight on her. His lips find her neck again, making her sigh happily. It's all rather blissful, and then his hand moves between her legs, making her gasp.
His touch is foreign at first, but he soon finds his rhythm and learns what she likes, bringing her to the edge. It's far too much fun and she doesn't try to make it last, relinquishing herself and her inhibitions as she shudders against him.
Once she's caught her breath, she stops to reach for the little box in her bedside drawers. Precautions taken care of, he kisses her again, their noses bumping softly.
"Hi," he says, brushing her hair off her face. He sounds more nervous than she's ever heard him.
"Hi," she replies, sighing happily. Slowly, gently, she helps guide him inside her.
They both stop and take a breath, their foreheads touching, the weight of this moment not lost on them. She'll remember this night for the rest of her life, a memory she'll turn over and admire.
They start moving, together, and it's a little awkward at first but it soon gives way to the greatest of pleasures. It builds and swells, gradually filling every part of her. His name escapes her lips softly at first, then with increasing desparation, and when that becomes too much she can only cry out.
She wants this to last forever, just in case this is their only chance. But she knows it must end, so she gives in and lets go, surrendering to her orgasm. Each wave of pleasure overwhelms her, her hands tightening into fists gripping the sheets and then him. He tenses and she hears him come apart, and then the edges the world dissolve and nothing exists but the two of them.
Her heart is still thumping as they fall back to earth, breathless and just a little exhausted. Finding closure for fifteen years of unresolved tension is deeply satisfying after all, and it's also the begnning of something brand new.
But right now she's not thinking about that. Right now they're holding each other while their racing hearts slow, unable to move. He gazes into her eyes sleepily with heavy lids and doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. Their kisses are sweet and tender now, in contrast to the desperate yearning ones from earlier. Miranda wants for nothing in this moment, the one she never thought would happen but just has. Whatever happens, they'll always have this, and nothing can take that away from them.