1
OLIVIA
Entering my bedroom, I drop this season’s Prada bag on the bed, ignoring the mess it makes as the contents spill across the bedding.
There is only one thing on my mind right now.
Light automatically fills my walk-in closet as I pass the doorway, not that I need to slow down even if it didn’t. I know exactly where I’m going and light or no light, I would be able to find what I’m looking for.
Clothes I’ve never worn anywhere except to Boyd’s.
It might not be my usual night to visit the bar but I need to. Need the anonymity Boyd’s gives me more than I need my next breath.
Yanking out a pair of jeans and a blue knit sweater with a low V-neck, I turn to the set of drawers that holds my lingerie.
This evening calls for sexy—skimpy—something to titillate my chosen one with before I take him for a ride, but most of all, something to make me look and feel good.
I smile.
Just the thought of putting on sexy underwear and going in search of hot sweaty sex brings relief from the strain that has wound my insides tighter and tighter over the last few hours.
I love the girls. Love the time we spend chatting, or catting, depending on who sits next to who, and I totally love the girl-only time. Except sitting next to Carlla—with two l’s, not one—and her sickly-sweet newlywed happiness tonight dug a claw into my gut and ripped me wide open.
It has nothing to do with the fact today would have been my fifth wedding anniversary if Colin hadn’t walked out.
“Damn him.” The words are uttered on a harsh breath, although it’s not him I mourn. It’s the life I thought I’d be living. I’d expected to have a couple of children by now. A house?—
Shoving those thoughts aside, I select a lacy red bra and matching thong—something my ex would never approve of—and head for the bathroom.
I’d showered before going to dinner, but the nauseating talk of married bliss has left a sticky feeling on my skin as well as a crawling one beneath it. Plus, it wouldn’t do to have a man between my thighs without freshening up—making sure things are well groomed.
It takes only a few minutes to check there are no stray hairs or stubble and wash the last few hours away; the next fifteen I spend fixing my hair and touching up my make-up. Only a light brush of waterproof mascara and a swipe of strawberry flavored lip balm.
My lips are naturally red and it wouldn’t do to have lipstick or mascara smeared all over my face after I’ve worked up a sweat. And I definitely plan to work one up.
In fact, tonight, hot, sweaty sex against a wall appeals.
Hot. Hard. Rough.
I need to obliterate everything but pleasure from my mind, and that means some nameless guy with a hot bod and the right words and moves is going to get lucky before dawn breaks.
Thirty minutes after walking through my front door I’m walking out of it.
2
CARTER
Eyes narrowed, mind spinning all kinds of scenarios, I watch Livi weave her way through tables until she perches herself on the stool across the bar from where I’m standing.
We’re both quiet for a couple of heartbeats before I break and state the obvious. “Well, well, well. Back again, Livi? And so soon, too.”
“It’s Olivia. But then you know that.” She flicks a section of sleek blond hair over her shoulder and my insides clench at the sight of her creamy skin. “No one calls me Livi,” she adds with a disapproving glare.
I lean my forearms on the bar and lock my eyes with hers. “Do you really want me to treat you like everyone else, Princess?”
Her mouth opens, but after a few seconds of silence she snaps it shut.
“Didn’t think so,” I say with a smirk before I turn to grab a glass and fill it with her usual gin and tonic. “So what are you doing here? It’s not your usual night.”
