I clawed at his back. His bed. He slammed into me with those punishing, decadent drives. Our mouths fused together in the sort of brutal devouring that left me breathless.
And now I’m back home alone with only the memory of what we just shared and the sweet satisfaction aching between my thighs.
I don’t let the fears about what this could mean creep in. He’s the one who labeled it a hate fuck, but it felt like something else to me. I refuse to identify what it could possibly be, though. If it was only a hate fuck for him, allowing myself to walk down any other path will only lead to disappointment. And I’ve had enough of that out of men.
Sex doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be two bodies simply taking pleasure from each other. But even though I have the thought, I know it’s just me trying to justify what we did.
If Jack found out, would I be fired?
He didn’t seem to care when Maverick told him I’d hit on himeven though I hadn’t. Besides, didn’t Jack marry the woman put into the same position I’m in with Maverick? I doubt he’d have grounds for firing me considering his own personal life.
I wonder if I should tell Ellie.
I shouldn’t tell anyone.
It’s nobody’s business.
Even though all I want to do is talk about it.
I glance at the clock. It’s after two in Chicago, so calling Penny is out. She usually doesn’t answer late-night texts, but I shoot her one on the off-chance she’s up.
Me:I miss you. You awake?
My phone rings ten seconds later. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Penny asks.
“I just had hate sex with Maverick Jennings.”
Silence greets me on the other end of the line.
“Pen?” I say tentatively.
“No, I heard you. I just...what?”
“I know. I went over to his place to yell at him since he was blaring music, and instead, he invited me in for a hate fuck,” I admit.
“And…”
“It was more spectacular than you could even imagine,” I say quietly.
“Oh, Ev. What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I guess that’s why I called you.” I glance at the clock, and I realizeit’s after two in Chicago. I know I thought it before I sent that text, but it didn’t really register. “What are you doing awake?” She has two little boys and a husband, and they’re on a pretty traditional schedule, what with school and work routines.
"Oh, you know. The usual. Fighting with my husband, couldn’t sleep. I was playing a game on my phone when your text came in.”
“You two are fighting again?” I ask softly, abandoning my own reason for calling since this feels bigger.
“I feel like he’s not the man I married. He only cares about power and money. He didn’t get home until after the boys went to bed tonight, and he didn’t even bother to tell me he was going to be so late. I feel like a single mom, honestly, and I’m wondering if I just should be.”
“Do you still love him?” I ask.
She’s quiet, and then I hear a sniffle. “I don’t think I do, Ev. But the kids…”
“I know, babe. The kids. But you can’t stay unhappy for the kids. They’ll be happier if you are happier. And then you’ll have set times where hehasto step up for them. He won’t have any other choice.”
“You mean divorce,” she says flatly, her voice low.
