“I’m in a bar, Cameron,” I say. “I came here looking to get laid. Anything to avoid going home to the lowlife whofucked not one, but two of his secretaries and an intern in the span of our four-year marriage.”
“Are you drunk?” Cameron stutters.
“No, I’m not drunk, just pissed. Why the hell did you have to come back?”
“Because I love you, Grace. Please, come home.”
I twist in my seat so I’m facing the bar. I don’t need to know if those intense blue eyes trained on me are full of pity or devoid of emotion. Either would be unbearable.
“But it’s not your home, is it? It was my grandma’s house. The only place I ever felt loved or safe. Until now,” I point out. “And if you haven’t come back to stake your claim before the divorce settlement, it must mean Ashley’s kicked you out.”
“Neither of those are true,” Cameron insists. “Please, give me one more chance. I’ve missed you, sweet pea.” His voice drops. “You can’t go throwing yourself at other men. I’m the only one who knows how to satisfy you.”
I bark out a laugh that’s a little too close to hysteria. “You? Satisfy me? I’d rather go without sex ever again than have to fake one more orgasm with you.”
As Cameron chokes on the other end of the line, the security guard shifts uncomfortably. I turn my back and cover my eyes with a hand to block out my surroundings.
“You’re just saying that to hurt me,” Cameron says at last.
“Maybe I am, but it’s no less true. It’s quite sad really. I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never had a… At least not in the vicinity of another human being.”
Cameron was my first serious boyfriend. He’s my one and only lover. Unlike my husband, whose body count keeps rising.
“Don’t wait up for me because I won’t be coming homeuntil I’ve been thoroughly fucked,” I inform him. And even though that’s looking less and less likely as the night wears on, I double-down by adding, “I might even bring you home a recording of what a woman actually sounds like when she climaxes for real. I doubt you’ve heard it before.”
I don’t wait for my husband’s response. I cut the call and straighten up. The couple I’m now facing are statue-still. They heard it all. I could turn to check someone else’s reaction but my attention snaps to the bartender preparing cocktails right in front of me.
I’m about to chance my luck and ask for a drink when the server sets down two espresso martinis in front of me.
“Enjoy,” he says, then turns on his heels before I can offer to pay.
How did he know what I wanted? And why two? The brooding silence next to me is my answer, but I ignore him for now and rest my elbows on the bar. As I pull the first drink towards me, the security guard takes up a similar position. He smells of citrus and cedar.
I slide the second glass towards him, but he pushes it back. “Both are for you,” he explains. “I thought you might need to catch up.”
Ignoring the rights and wrongs of accepting multiple drinks from a man who thought I was an escort, I lift the glass to my lips. I take a sip. Then another. Fuck it. I down the whole thing before setting the empty glass to one side and wrapping territorial fingers around the stem of the second.
“So,” the guard says. “Never, huh?”
As I aim a glare at him, his eyes aren’t as glacial as they had been. The ice mountain has thawed just a little. “You weren’t supposed to be listening.”
“Weirdly, turning your back on someone doesn’t addsound-proofing. I think the whole hotel has learned how desperate you are to be fucked.”
My insides have no right to twist in reaction to his lazy smile, but the alcohol warming my belly has loosened me up. My core throbs with need. For him. And while fucking a security guard was not where I thought tonight was heading, I’m not totally against the idea.
My voice has developed a huskiness that I’m not expecting when I ask, “Are you playing with me?”
He takes a breath, and as he holds it, my heart sinks. I can see the ice reforming in his eyes. “Not at all.” He straightens up. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ma’am.”
Chapter 2
Grace
If ever there was a sign from above to go home, Iceman’s rejection has it in flashing neon lights. His dismissal stings, but going home to Cameron without a single man here finding me attractive enough to fuck would be the humiliation to beat all humiliations.
My phone lights up with a series of messages from my husband that I studiously ignore. He’s determined to ruin my night, as is the man standing next to me.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I ask. “You might have better luck finding a woman of the night lurking in the lobby if that’s what you’re after.”
