Remember WENN and its characters are copyright AMC, Howard Meltzer prods & Rupert Holmes. Story is the brainchild of me. :)
Thanks Dicie for the encouragement (and prodding. ;-) ) to write this one. This was
inspired by the scene that Hilary describes in HBRN. (Thanks, Hilary, for that lovely
image of Jeff.
This story is set, obviously, the morning after Jeff & Hilary's first wedding in Mexico. As always, I love comments!! :)
Italics represents thoughts
The Morning After
By Michele Savage
Hilary stirred and woke in the large bed. The morning sun shone brightly over her from the bay window behind the bed. She turned and saw Jeffrey still sleeping. She smiled, thinking of the past night, then her mind remembered one other fact. She quickly looked at her left hand in the hopes that she'd just dreamt it.
But she hadn't. There, on the third finger, was a gold wedding band. We got married! With a groan, she sunk further into the bed and covered her head with the sheet. Why did I do that!
Jeff took a deep breath and turned slightly in his sleep, catching her attention. She moved the sheet and looked toward him. He was now laying on his side, facing her, his arms hugged around the pillow that was bunched beneath his head. The sun reflected off his face, enhancing the angle of his cheekbones, and the sheet was tangled around his lower body, giving her an ample view from his waist upward. He was a very attractive man. Okay, so this is partially why, she admitted to herself.
She scooted up toward the headboard and sat, leaning against it, contenting herself to watch him sleep. There was a curl of hair hanging over his forehead, tempting her to touch it. She reached and softly caught it between her first two fingers. She let it wind around her index finger and toyed with the softness, careful not to wake him. When he moaned deeply in his sleep, she quickly moved her hand away. The sound shot a bolt of desire through to her core. She leaned her head against the hardwood and inhaled deeply.
She hugged her knees tightly to her. Get a hold of yourself, Hilary. This is not by any stretch of the imagination the first wedding night you've had! So why am I acting like it is? She glanced again at the sleeping man next to her. What in God's name have I done? Why did I do it again?
She straightened, stretching her legs in front of her. The warmth of the sun was beginning to heat the room. She noticed small beads of sweat were starting break out over his forehead. She softly brushed away the moisture, noticing a hint of a smile cross lips. Instinctively, she leaned closer, wanting to kiss him. Oh, Hilary, what are you doing? She sat again quickly. Wait, why did you stop? He is your husband. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. "While it lasts?" she mouthed, silently questioning herself, then slid out of the bed.
She pulled on the lacy lavender negligee that had been casually discarded the previous night and walked to the table across from the bed. She sat and watched Jeff from there, having decided that distance was safer for the moment. What did I mean, while it lasts? Must everything be temporary?
She toyed with the belt at her waist. Why can't I have a lasting relationship? Oh lord, Hilary, that's another topic all together.
She stood and walked into the lounge. She looked in the mirror on the dressing table and was surprised by what she saw. Her hair was a disheveled mess, she wore no make-up, of course, and had the general look of someone who'd just woken from sleep, but something was different. She sat and stared at her reflection, trying to place what was different.
There were definite reminders of the passionate night she'd just shared with her new husband. Her lips were swollen and slightly bruised from having been kissed and her neck was red from having been lightly bitten. She closed her eyes as her body remembered the feelings of love.
She quickly opened her eyes, realizing the direction her thoughts were taking. I am not in love. Lust. Her mind scrambled for explanations.
Yes, that's it, sexual desire. Not love. I am not in love with Jeffrey Singer. She looked at her reflection again. Or am I? Is that what the difference is?
No, no, no. She forcefully halted the train of thought. Love is a useless emotion. I haven't the time for it. She stood, pushing up from the dressing table with her hands. She glanced down again at the wedding ring on her finger. For some reason, she liked it. It was plain and simple. Not gaudy, like her others were. Just modest. Like Jeffrey.
Speaking of. She walked to the doorway and stood where she could see him still sleeping soundly. She leaned against the doorframe, her hands bracing the sides and watched. Why him? He's a nobody. He does nothing to further my career. He's a wonderful actor in his own right. She'd learned that from acting with him daily. He's really the first actor I've ever worked with that could work so well beside me. Why ruin a working relationship like that with a personal one?
He turned again and threw an arm over her empty side of the bed. Hilary suddenly felt an aching need to be underneath his arm. She started toward him, but stopped. Hilary, don't ruin this for yourself. This is the first man who's wanted to be with you, not Hilary Booth. Take everyday as it comes, but you've got something special here. Don't be an idiot.
She sighed. She hated it when her inner self spoke up. And worse when it's right. Okay. We'll see where this leads us. I can't believe I am doing this. This had better not turn out to be the worst mistake of my life.
She walked toward the him, having made up her mind for now, slipped out of the negligee, and slid back into the bed. Jeff woke and smiled when he saw that she was awake.
"Good morning," he said softly, caressing her shoulder and pulling himself closer to her.
She sighed and pulled his mouth to hers. "Yes, it is," she said against his lips before deepening the kiss.
The End