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And Kira Blakely is about as complicated as they come.
After the dinner theater show, and everything that transpired between us, I drove her home. There was this moment when we were talking. It felt so normal and easy. She was teasing me, and she threw her head back and laughed. And at that moment, I felt like the world screeched to a halt.
It was like I was finally seeing the real Kira for the first time.
Then I asked her about her relationship, and she dropped a bomb on me I’d suspected was coming—but it still took my legs out from underneath me.
Needing time to process that information, I intentionally drove out of my way just so I could have her beside me in my truck for a little longer.
And then she started flirting with me, and goddamnit, I couldn’t resist not flirting back. All I wanted was to make her laugh like that again. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences or how this could all go South. I was acting out of my own selfish desires. And selfishly, I wanted to pretend there was a reality in which the two of us could end up together.
But when we pulled up to my house and she, not so subtly, invited me inside, I fucking panicked.
It was so much easier when it was a one-sided crush. How the fuck am I supposed to resist knowing she wants me too? At least physically anyway.
Serves me right for being such a great lay. I’ve set the bar way too high, and now she wants another piece to satisfy the Roman-shaped-hole inside her.
And how the hell am I supposed to deny her…especially considering I’m dealing with the same issue over here.
The only way to keep myself from giving in was to create a physical barrier between us, which is why I’ve spent the last two nights two hours away at The Château Mystique trying to get her out of my system.
I thought I’d find another sex worker. We’d bang it out and part ways the following morning like always. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t even make myself go downstairs to have a drink.
At one point, I was so desperate, I even called Guy to give me a pep talk. He gave his best shot, but his metaphors were a little confusing. In the end I was motivated...to hit the gym.
He’s a sports guy. Everything always comes back to sports.
Eventually I gave up on my plan to fuck her out of my system and decided to try a little exposure therapy instead.
That’s why I spent the past forty-eight hours drinking whiskey and jerking off to her entire movie catalog.
Which has led me to this unique combination of symptoms…
Dehydrated as shit and dick rubbed raw.
And the worst part is, it didn’t even work. If anything, it may have made things worse. I popped a boner the second she walked in the door this morning.
Like Pavlov’s dog, now every time I see her face, my dick starts drooling pre-cum.
Goddamnit, I knew that B I made in psychology was going to come back and bite me in the ass.
There’s a rap at the door, and I let my head fall back against the chair, already bracing myself for another round of torture.
“It’s open,” I call out.
The door creaks, and I’m relieved when I see Guy’s lanky ass step inside. His ginger hair is tousled like he never bothered to brush it after crawling out of whoever he went home with last night’s bed this morning.
What fun it must be to be the baby of the family. Your parents' favorite, not because you’ve done anything to deserve it, but because you’ll always be the youngest and for some reason that gives you a free pass to indulge in whatever makes you happiest. What must it feel like to only have to worry about yourself?
“You good?” He gives me a cautious look as he slowly steps inside.
“Yeah. Of course,” I snap, straightening my tie. “What do you want?”
He holds up his hands. “Whoa. What makes you think I’m here because I want something?”
Rather than answering that stupid question, I just roll my eyes and pin him with a glare.
Lips curling into a guilty smile, he shrugs. “All right, fine. You got me.” He sits in the armchair across from my desk, kicking his long legs over the side like an overgrown teenager.
