Finding a man I once helped with science homework attractive feels criminal. But what a man he is.
Chapter 3
Antonio
The plan tonight was simple: grab a drink, pick up dinner, and drown in my sheets. Sex wasn’t on my radar until the woman whose shadow still traces the edges of my mind appeared at my neighborhood bar with demands.
At first, I thought Miriam was joking about a one-night stand. But through herSNLmonologue of anxiety and desire, I heard her. The want to prioritize the parts of herself she pushes away for academia. The need to feel alive. Adored.
Sitting here next to her is fucking with me, not because she wants to fuckme, but because she’s here. In front of my kitchen counter—gnawing on a chicken wing, but she’s here. In the flesh tucked under red fabric that grips curves I’ve never witnessed this close.
Any sightings these days are like a solar eclipse. Rare and blinding. You can’t look away.
“Do you usually supply your company with chicken?” Red, full lips glide over another bone. “Sorry.” She sucks on whatever remnants she thinks are left.Jesus. “I forgot to eat before I went out.”
“Do you want a rotisserie chicken?” I eye the wings she piled into a mini pyramid. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.
“No.” Her giggle is melodic. It’s half Regine fromLiving Singleand half Betty Rubble. “I don’t pretend to eat air, but that’s still too much for me in one sitting. My hips are wide as is.”
“That they are.” I zero in on the hips in question, soft skin spilling over my barstool. The tops of her thighs appear thicker than mine in a dress that creeps up legs I want wrapped around my neck. It takes what little concentration I have left to keep my blood from rerouting to my dick.
The invitation to come back to my penthouse slipped out before I could fully process the implications of a one-night stand with a woman who’s been off-limits.
Miriam has been my crush since I was eleven. She was a real-life Ashley Banks in the form of a shy sixteen-year-old who babysat me when I was a hardheaded kid whose parents didn’t trust him to stay at home alone. Did I get into more trouble on purpose to see her? Every chance I had.
By the time I was old enough to take her out, she was in a long-term relationship with her first love. School has always been her main priority, which limits any opportunity to run into her. At some point, I stopped hoping any glimpses of thick glasses and legs to match were her. Until tonight, when her smile and those brilliant dimples called to me from across the bar I drop into a few nights a week after work.
Miriam is a work of art. A masterpiece of divine lines and full hips and breasts.
“Speaking of food, where does all of yours go?” She swats at my arm and muffles a gasp at the muscles underneath my dress shirt.
I chew through a bite and wink. “I’m a big boy, Doe. Rugby and my workouts require fuel.”
“Whole chickens?” she deadpans.
“You act like it was a holiday turkey,” I chuckle. “I don’t cook, but I eat my weight. To answer your question, I don’t usually have dinner with company. Sends the wrong message.”
Stuffing panties in my drawer.
“Forgetting” some random item in hopes I’ll welcome her back with open arms, and not for a limited time.
“So you’re saying this is special chicken.”
You’re special.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Oh.” She nods to herself, focusing on her hands in her lap.
Miriam’s mind is a language I want to speak fluently. How she breaks apart words and turns them over. The way her brows narrow and her eyes shift to make sense of something that has no scientific explanation.
Every part of her intrigues me.
“So what do you do for fun besides pick up men at bars for sex?” I nudge her knee with mine and jump at her snort.
“Sorry.” She chokes back a laugh with her hand and snorts again. “My version of fun is falling asleep before ten.”
“Ten? Most of my parties don’t start until then.”
