Rory hadn’t been planning it or anything. It wasn’t
marked with a big red circle on her calendar. The
realization just came to her as she and Tristan were
sitting there in the candlelight.

She was ready.

He hadn’t been pressuring her. In fact, he had made
it perfectly clear that even he didn’t think they
were ready.

Rory turned this idea over and over in her head until
it began to settle. Yes, tonight was the night. She
reached across the table and placed her hand over
Tristan’s comparatively larger one.

“Tristan, baby.” Her calm tone and demeanor
automatically tore his gaze away from the menu. He
met her brown eyes with his blue, and without a word
being spoken a consensus was made.

“Rory, are you sure?”

She bit her lip, careful not to smudge her lipstick,
which was a new practice. Carefully picking up her
water glass and taking a sip, she nodded.

Turning his hand over and placing hers in his palm,
he studied her long fingers. “I’m sure,” she
reaffirmed, tracing his palm.

After a long and painfully distracted dinner, they
found themselves at the front door of the Dugray’s
abandoned mansion. As Tristan fumbled with locks and
keys and doorknobs with one hand, the other stayed
calmly intertwined with Rory’s. He felt a light tug,
and giving up on the keys, turned his attention to
Rory.

She slowly shook her head. He slowly understood. This
wasn’t the right place. Not in this cold,
unforgiving, unemotional hellhole of a place that
Tristan called home.

A set of keys bounced noisily to the doormat as they
wordlessly walked across the lawn.

Within minutes, glowing yellows and oranges filled
the guesthouse where Tristan had spent so many happy
times with his grandfather.

Tristan set the matchbook back on the hearth, feeling
more warmth radiating from Rory’s smile than from the
blazing embers in the fireplace.

She stood and embraced him. “Are you sure about
this?” Rory sighed into his chest. “I’ve never been
more sure about anything in my life.”

He found himself once more being gently led, this
time to the bedroom. But as blissfully happy as he
was, there was still one thing wrong.

As they approached the bed, Tristan stopped dead in
his tracks. Rory turned to him, a concerned look on
her delicate face. She didn’t have to say anything.
The question was painted on her features. The raised
eyebrows, the soft, forgiving eyes. What’s wrong?

“Rory…” he trailed off, raising a finger to trail
her cheekbone. “Rory, I’m a virgin.”

There. He had admitted it. That this whole act was
completely alien to him and he had absolutely no idea
what he was doing.

But it was so right.

She smiled. “We’ll let love lead the way.” Six words
from Rory were all it took. She began unbuttoning
Tristan’s perfectly pressed brooks brothers’ shirt,
her gaze never leaving his. Finally, the last button
was reached, and she slid his shirt off easily, the
rough fabric against his smooth skin.

Rory began to explore this foreign territory, taking
in every sensual aspect of it. The way he had a
little bit of hair trailing down his tummy, all the
way to his belly button, leading to a forbidden place
of no return. Every nook and cranny, every curve and
muscle were sought out.

In turn, he undressed her, exploring, discovering,
learning, teaching. In time, they found each other
baring their soul and their bodies.

In time, Tristan didn’t feel uncomfortable. Even
after all the ogling by spoiled, glittered, vacuous
girls, here he was, naked in every sense of the word,
thrusting his heart out for his one true love to see,
and all he felt was calm.

Their lips met for what seemed like the first time in
hours, days, weeks, years. Only this time, passion
replaced the usually tender touch. Tristan wanted
nothing more than to ravish this girl with whom he
was so intoxicated by, this mystery who had floated
into his life and stripped him bare. Rory wanted
nothing more than to oblige.

Fumbling towards the bed, legs entwined with legs,
grasping for as much of the other as possible,
desiring to be one, almost like magic Tristan was on
top. “I love you.”

Rory had never seen his eyes that clear and sure
before. Undeniably happy. She grasped for his hand in
the dark with him hovering over her. Intertwining her
fingers with his, she prepared to make his
intoxicating scent her own, their two bodies one, to
give herself to him. The union was inevitable.
Hanging there in the air all along.

“I love you, too.”

With one last look into those untroubled blue eyes,
they became whole.