“Get used to it, honey. Tonight, it’s only about you.”
When her gaze finally meets mine, she brightens at my words. My attention. Her face like the goddamn sun after years of darkness. I’ve never wanted to claim a naked body more than I want hers right now.
Not because I’ve marked her as unfuckable for the night, either.
Because I’ve never cared enough to realize there is worth in waiting.
I dive into the bed and bury my face into her wet pussy. I settle in for the night even if my dick is anythingbutsettled. When she comes for the third time on my nose and face, she screams my name so loud that I come in my motherfucking pants.
There’s the difference. There’s the fucking difference. Groaning, I drag my slippery lips up her body. Her eyes are closed when my mouth lands on hers.
I kiss her with my eyes open.
FOUR
Magnolia
My marriage didn’tdisintegrate over time. It imploded in one horrifying, self-actualizing moment. I had no idea Paul was unhappy—no blatant signals he was cheating on me. Sure, over time we settled into the comfortable familiarity of a worn-in relationship, but my mistake was thinking that was normal. Didn’t all couples say “hello” and “goodbye” and “what’s for dinner?” Isn’t the lack of passion and fire between two bodies bound to dwindle after years of the monotonous grind of running a family business and parenting a child? The simple answer? No. It shouldn’t. Ebbs and flows in a marriage are completely normal. Ebbing for years without ever feeling the rush of a flow is a proverbial death wish.I should have known.
The last year and a half of our marriage, he came home late almost every night when I knew the workload like the back of my hand and couldn’t find a reason for his tardiness. There wasn’t that much work to do after five p.m. Not by a long shot. But he kissed me square on the mouth, smiled, and asked me what was for dinner moments after coming through the door. Normal. Ididn’t see the symptoms of chinks in our armor. I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for them. Paul’s affair is not my fault, I know that. That mistake lies squarely on his shoulders. Accepting a halfhearted offering of his loveis my fault.
I was naked, in the shower when he busted into the bathroom to tell me Kendall caught him having sex with Pamela. He apologized so many times, his words eventually faded. I still had conditioner in my hair and only one leg was shaved. Par for the course, though. A divorce feels like unfinished business even when it’s final. I shave that leg first now as if I can prevent my world from being rocked by keeping it smooth.
Sleeping isn’t an option. I will be up for the rest of the night. I can’t get Aidan’s face out of my mind. Or his body. Or the fact that my inner thighs are stinging from the stubble burn of his scruffy face hours later. My core clenches at the reminder of all of the orgasms he gave me with his mouth and fingers. He wouldn’t let me reciprocate the act, and something about that makes me feel guilty. It also makes me feel all kinds of butterflies in my stomach. I lie awake in my king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the reasons my marriage would have never worked even if Paul hadn’t cheated. We had a child who connected us, but that doesn’t mean we had a connection. The real kind, one that sizzles and pops and causes an ache deep in your chest.
Recognizing that Aidan is a horrible man to fall for was made even clearer when Polly showed up at his door demanding…him. Other women desire him. It’s a risk to give anything except my body to Aidan Mixx, and yet I feel it happening, felt it happening all night long. Every touch held an unspoken promise of pleasure I know I’ll never tire of. More than his body and his touch were his words. He told me I was desirable. That I was worthy of his attentions. By claiming me as his girlfriend, even if the scenario is pretend, he’s affirming I’m good enough to be his, andeveryone around him can witness it. Warmth spreads through my body when I think of the words he said when he dropped me off at my front door.I’ve never wanted to call someone mine more.
Clutching the sheets, I roll to look out the window that overlooks the bay. I have a clear shot of his bright white condo complex lit with several megawatt lights that highlight the shoreline and docks. “You’re right there,” I say, realizing how this town got a touch smaller with the knowledge that I can look out my window and know he’s there. I wonder if he’s looking over here. I wonder if he’s awake. If he’s regretting our deal, or if he’s thinking about me. It’s hard to think he might be. I’m another woman in his laundry list of conquests, and he just joined an exclusive club formerly known as Paul’s.
I’ll get used to it. I can do this.
I blink a few times as my eyes get heavier. My cell phone’s dull glow signals a message. I grab it from my nightstand and unplug it from the charging cord. Aidan put his number in my phone before we left his house. His name flashes as his initials, AM.
His text reads,
I can’t sleep.
I reply.
I can’t sleep. Probably for different reasons though.
If not being able to get a chick out of your head is the reason you can’t sleep, then we’re on the same page.
I blush and swallow hard, rolling to my back, the phone hovering over my face.
You can’t stop thinking about me?
Aidan texts back.
I never said it was you.
Oh, it’s Polly then? She was a bit feistier than I was.
I fire back, grinning from ear to ear.
You’re full of jokes.
So are you.
