Yeah. That’s not happening.
I catch her gaze and grin. Tossing my phone aside, I take a few strides toward the bed and tackle her, wrapping myself around her as she falls back. The sheet slips from her hands.
“Jensen,” she laughs, and I crash my mouth into hers, letting her know she’s still the most beautiful fucking woman in the world. That she’s desirable and turns me on, morning breath and all.
“Mmm. You taste good, baby.” I trail kisses down her jaw to her neck, one hand cradling her head, the other cupping her cheek.
“Stop!” she groans. “This is so unfair. You’ve brushed your teeth and showered and look all hot, and I’m gross and grog?—”
I cut her off, tongue slipping in, teasing and toying with hers. She softens beneath me, slowly giving up her insecurities. Her arms wrap around my neck.
I break the kiss. “How many times have I told you not to talk about my wife like that?”
Before she can answer, I’m kissing her again. Her fingers skim my neckline as she pulls me closer.
I draw back, eyes fixed on her smile, that damn dimple making me want to forget every obligation I have for the rest of the year. “I have to go.”
“Okay.”
I don’t move. Can’t. Her smile has me frozen in place. I press my mouth to her neck, then drag my tongue down to her collarbone.
She arches into me.God, I love knowing she still wants me.
“You make it so hard to leave,” I murmur low against her skin, my hand palming her breast. She rolls her hips against mine andfuck, now I’m hard as a rock.
It takes every ounce of willpower, but I finally tear myself from her.
Choosing an AA meeting over fucking your wife? If that’s not commitment to sobriety, I don’t know what is.
“I’ll pick you up from Leo’s at 9:30,” I say, standing. “And then we’re having a serious discussion about yourhome.”
I stepout of my AA meeting and onto the streets of Chicago. It’s cold as shit, but the sun’s out, which makes it bearable. I’ve got some time to kill before my weekly check-in with Rob, my sponsor.
I wander into a coffee shop on the corner, order a drip, and slide into a seat by the window. The place smells like fresh beans and burnt toast, and it’s filled with quiet conversations.
I pop my AirPods in and call Matt. The phone rings three times before he answers.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” His voice is thick with sleep, and I glance at my watch. It’s 8:30 a.m., which means 9:30 in New York. Not exactly early, but not late either.
“Shit. Did I wake you?”
I hear a woman’s voice in the background, muffled. Matt mumbles something back to her.
“Yeah, but it’s all good. Needed to get up anyway.”
“Late night?” I ask.
He chuckles. “You could say that. Hold on.”
Here we go. He’s walking away from whoever he was with so he can tell me all about his wild night.
I hear a door slide open, then shut.The patio? It’s freezing.
“Just a sec... Turning on the heaters… Alright. You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Talk to me, Goose. How’d it go with Alley last night?”
