I could remember every single thing about how he felt… all over my body.
I took a discreet step back. He was on the other side of the generous desk, but his bare nipples suddenly seemed way too close to me.
They were a ruddy dark pink that went well with his slight tan.
A vivid memory hit me—a younger, slimmer Dane. Seventeen. Lounging on the bleachers behind the school on a warm night, with his shirt off. Gazing at me from afar while I was doing soccer drills, with pure trouble in his green eyes.
I shuddered with something like unsated lust.
I watched him sifting through his cards in vain. Meticulously, the same way he did things as a teenager.Chem lab.It all came back to me in an uncomfortable rush. Him, sitting next to me. Me, trying not to stare. The shiver through my body when we accidentally touched hands while passing something to each other.
I watched those same hands, the hands of a man now, lining up the credit cards in a little pile. Where the hell was his wallet?
Jesus, how long was this gonna take?
“Maybe you could just buy a new coat,” I suggested dryly.
He looked at me but didn’t really see me. And because he was drunk and I was wearing a helmet, he didn’t seem to realize who the hell I was. “It’s, um, Gucci. No. Armani. Saint Laurent?” His mind seemed to drift off.
Fuck. He was totally pickled.
Let’s just get this over with.
I nudged Talia out of the way as I rounded the desk. The thought of any of these women in the coat room with drunk Dane was far too unsettling. These were my friends. They were cool, smart women deserving of good things—they shouldn’t have to deal with the drunk devil.
“Alrighty,” I said, “come on back here, angel boy.”
When he didn’t seem to hear me, I grabbed his arm.Uggghhh.Arm porn, come to life beneath my fingers. Silky, manly skin. Thick, juicy muscles. I could feel his heartbeat in his bicep.
I gave him a tug, trying not to look at his nipples… and trying not to recall how he liked it when I touched them. Licked. Bit. Named. Horny and Happy. That was what I called them one day when we were in the shower. Before I blew him.
And yeah, he liked it.
Dane Davenport was probably into anything that involved his body being worshipped by a woman, deity that he was. I didn’t even want to think about how many women might’ve worshipped him on his mysterious travels.
Were we married? Were we not married?
Who the fuck even knew?
Not me.
After he gathered up his little piles of stuff, he finally followed me into the coat check room.
And now I was in a fucking closet, buzzing on Red Bull and halfway to tears, with my drunk, estranged, half-naked, dressed-like-an-erotic-angel husband. With a helmet on my head.
New, awkward low achieved.
Teenage Devi had nothing on this.
“What color is it?” I demanded.
“Brown.”
“Dark brown? Light brown?” With my back to him, I started pawing through the random coats that were still hanging out. “Fawn? Camel? Help me out here.”
“Actually… it’s gray.”
That was so close to my ear, my spine straightened. He was hovering, but when I glanced back, he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the coats.
