4. Having to be quiet so I don’t get caught
5. Sexy dance for a partner (striptease)
6. Bondage/sensory deprivation
7. Go skinny-dipping in a natural body of water at night.
8. Sexting
9. Play sexy truth or dare.
10. Have a “yes day” where you both agree to any consensualand escalatingnaughty requests.
11. Kiss outside in the rain.
12. Masturbate in front of each other.
I stared at my list and smiled. Fuck Chris. After I completed this list, boring was the last thing I’d be.
Now I just needed to find someone who I could actually trust enough to be this adventurous with.
Preferably someone who actually knew what to do with his dick.
FIVE
Murphy’s wasn’t the same without Drew. It had always been our favorite bar to hang out at, especially since they were the only ones who accepted our fake IDs. But since Drew had become a dad, I’d been flying solo. And while one-night stands were hot, lately they hadn’t quite been scratching the itch.
My phone buzzed and I picked it up, regretting that decision as soon as I saw it was a text from my dad.
And not just a text, but a photo. His arm was around a woman who looked about my age, both of them grinning at the camera from some rooftop bar. She was gorgeous—long dark hair, tight dress, her cleavage leaving nothing to the imagination.
Frankly, she looked like half the girls I’d hooked up with, and that thought did nothing to make me feel better.
Dad
Met Mariana last night in Miami. She’s Brazilian. Told her I bet I could convince her to run away with me. You should come with me next time I have a business trip down here. The women are absolutely stunning and always down for a good time.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding.
All my life, I’d been told how I was my father’s son. I was the spitting image of him, and everyone who ever saw us together was convinced I would grow up to be just like him.
And that had turned into my biggest fear because the truth was my father’s only accomplishment—if you could even call it that—was being an unfaithful and cocky bastard who thought his good looks were his get-out-of-jail-free card. I’d lost count of the number of times I watched him come in and out of our life, my mother always welcoming him back because he seemed to be the one weakness she could never shake, even after he cheated on her relentlessly and would disappear for months at a time.
I would lie in bed listening to her cry night after night when he was off doing God knew what. He’d come back and act like nothing had happened. But then every time someone compared the two of us, he’d tell me about how men as handsome as us had responsibilities to never settle down.
When you hear something enough times, you start to believe it, especially as an impressionable kid. And while I never liked what he put my mom through, I started to believe he was right. I couldn’t do relationships. I couldn’tbe faithful. I’d end up just like him—just like everyone said I would.
But there was one difference I could make. I wouldn’t leave a wife or girlfriend waiting for me.
I wouldn’t break an innocent woman’s heart.
His text was another reminder that meaningless hookups were all I could allow myself, whether they satisfied me anymore or not.
I knew the damage a charming, uncommitted man could do, and I had sworn off the risk. This lonely, guarded existence—the one where I didn’t do relationships because I refused to hurt anyone—was the only way to guarantee I didn’t shatter someone the way he shattered my mom.
But as I sat here nursing my now lukewarm beer, my current existence had lost its shine and I didn’t quite know what to do about it.
I was contemplating leaving when my gaze snagged on a flash of movement by the crowded dance floor.
