Page 20 of It’s Me, but Different

Sloane is sleeping, spooning me like when we were in college.

And the worst part is it feels good. It feels natural.

Too natural.

And it's at that moment when I realize I'm aroused. Very aroused. That my body is responding to her closeness in a way I had completely forgotten. The heat spreads from my belly downward, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning when I slide a finger between my legs.

This can't be happening.

I try to move away carefully, to slip out of her embrace without waking her. I need to go to the bathroom and end this sensation, but I accidentally hit her arm.

“Mmm?” Sloane wakes up, opens her eyes lazily, and takes a few seconds to process our position.

When she realizes, she separates from me so fast she almost falls rolling off the mattress.

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” she apologizes, hiding her face in her hands. “I didn't want… really, I didn't realize my hand…”

“It's fine. You were asleep.”

“Yes, but… shit, Esme, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I swear I wasn't conscious that…”

“It's okay, really,” I whisper, taking her hand in mine to squeeze it.

“Coffee?” she asks, probably trying to forget what happened.

“That would be good,” I sigh.

But when she gets up, my heart skips several beats and I forget to breathe. The t-shirt she's wearing shows her nipples too much and when she stretches her arms upward to wake up, it reveals black lace panties that cover less than would be appropriate. Shit.

I look away immediately, as if I were a teenager whose parents caught her doing something forbidden. And judging by her smile and how she's blushed, I think Sloane noticed.

“The storm has passed,” I announce, trying to disguise while shifting my gaze to the window.

“It seems so. Though they'll probably have to check the cable car before we can go down. It'll take a while, it's very early,” she explains. “Look!” she whispers suddenly, approaching with two cups of freshly made coffee.

I turn to see what caught her attention, and I'm breathless.

“River always says the sunrise from The Peak is even better than the sunset, but I admit I'd never seen it. You know I have trouble getting up early,” Sloane confesses, positioning herself behind me.

And she's right, because watching the sunrise at 10,000 feet transcends any description. The sun bathes each of the mountains, starting with the most distant ones,and the entire valley spreads below us like a white and immaculate canvas.

“It's…”

“Perfect,” Sloane whispers near my ear.

“Do you remember that morning in Switzerland when you came with me to a competition? You said it was as if the entire universe was ours.”

“We were very young,” I remind her.

“We were happy,” she corrects. “Very happy… until I screwed up. And now I regret it every day.”

She presses against my back, and I can feel her breasts pressing through her t-shirt. I wish she had put on a bra, because I have to make an effort not to lean back and kiss her.

“Sloane…” I sigh, though I'm not sure if it's a warning or a plea.

She doesn't respond, but places her hands on the window on both sides of my body without touching me, and our reflection in the glass projects such an intimate image that I have to look away.

She stretches like a cat, pretending she's waking up, but we're both too aware of what those touches provoke in our bodies. Her breathing has become more erratic, and every time I feel her nipples harden against my back through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, I have to fight to keep from moaning.