prologue
COVE
9 Years Ago
“Before you heal the body, you must first heal the mind.”
Aristotle
His softening cock barely slipsout before I’m on my feet, shuffling quickly to locate my scattered dress and heels. I find them in a heap on the floor and mentally retrace the events leading up to tonight.
I met a guy. One thing led to another. My vagina is still dry. It was hardly epic. End of story.
Tossing my gold Valentino dress over my head, I groan to myself for entertaining another subpar conquest. I wonder what it would take for men to actually apply some effort in the bedroom? Not only did Iride this man for longer than my legs could handle, but I sucked him off, too.
I’d consider that being pretty fucking generous.
Meanwhile, I get nothing. Not a remotely interesting man to get off on or any kind of action that comes close to satisfying me. And they wonder why they get the crazy side-eye when round two is requested.
Strapping my heels in place, I lift my head to meet…shit. I already forgot his name. Although he stares at me like he’s ready to make permanent plans after this, that simply will not be the case.
“We should do this again sometime,” the mustached bed warmer tells me.
I’m already running late.
I sling my purse over my shoulder, all while searching the overly luxurious hotel room for any other belongings I may have misplaced. “Phone. Where did I put my…phone?” I mutter, flustered and on a mission to book it out of here.
Mike clears his throat, legs spread wide at the edge of the bed with my phone in his hands. “Oh. I’ll take that. Thank you…Matt.” I smile cautiously, confident I fucked up his name, but on the off chance I got it right…go me.
I cannot remember it for the life of me. Was it Mark or Matt? Max? I don’t know, and I don’t have time to investigate, nor do I care to.
“It’s Manny. I’m assuming I won’t be hearing from you again, Cove?” He annunciatesmyname for the added gut punch that has no impact on my lack of guilt.
Ah, Manny.That rings a very cloudy bell.
“We had fun,” I say, my voice wavering between question and panic. “Why ruin a good thing with another?—”
“Good thing?” he questions, brows raised. Manny is a good-looking guy. Tall with dirty blond hair and tattoos—my typical choice. Yet, nothing about him is memorable, and good thing because I don’t intend to see him again.
“Right.” I stand tall, giving myself a glance over in the bathroom mirror. My hair has seen better days, and my unwashed face has yesterday’s makeup spread haphazardly across my cheeks and under eyes.
I look like one too many tequila shots got the best of me and I wound up in the bed of the chatty bartender who was topping me off all night.
Sadly, that’s exactly what happened.
I remember him whispering in my ear that he would book us a room after his shift, and before I knew it, I was ass-up on a California king with his subpar dick inside me, my well-rehearsed fake moans echoing throughout the hotel room.
Goddamn it. I tipped him with my vagina and sadly stayed sober enough to remember how horrible it was. Lesson learned.
I’ve also got a bone to pick with my best friends for letting me get my horny on, because how could they? They’re no strangers to my emotional spirals after sex. And my redheaded friend is about to be on the receiving end of today’s emotional catastrophe.
I glance down atManny, naked except for a pair of tight boxers, wondering if by staring I’ll suddenly get the urge to rethink seconds and decide he could be worth it.
My stamina has reached a lull, so, hard pass.
If my mindset toward men says anything about my future, I’d like my get out of jail free card now, please. I don’t want to be averse to men. Iwantto want them. One man who’s perfect for me.
And despite my fucked-up childhood, I’ve always dreamed of being in love. Finding someone who makes mequestion everything because nothing makes sense without them.
