Текст книги "Crosstown Crush"

Автор книги: Cara McKenna

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bern sat up, kneeling on the bed. Sam’s heart was beating hard, and from more than just lust. She turned over and looked into Mike’s eyes, seeking any sign that she’d steered them too far from the heart of his kink. None greeted her; only the intensity of sexual excitement.

She kissed her husband – the man she’d kissed thousands of times before, yet never like this. She made it deep, and fierce, and grateful, her teeth catching his lip and her palms curling with possession around his neck. His hair brushed her fingertips, so soft and subtle after Bern’s longer waves. He tasted different – he’d had a swallow of whiskey when he’d come in.

“You feel good,” she said, hooking her leg around his hip, welcoming the stiff press of his erection still trapped behind his shorts.

“Not half as good as you.” He dragged his palm lightly over her breast, drawing her nipple tight and her breath short.

“I want you.”

“Tell me how.”

She smiled at those three little words, ones he’d whispered and moaned and used to order her any number of times these past five years. Ones she’d gotten very used to reading in Bern’s texts as well.

“On your knees, with your hand.”

Mike knew what she meant. Sam rolled onto her back as he shed his underwear. He knelt between her thighs, allowing only three eager strokes of her hand before he moved it aside and slid deep. She shut her eyes and smiled, loving this familiar moment, and when they opened, she held Mike’s gaze, then Bern’s. Their guest’s lips were parted; he licked them as though thirsty.

She looked to Mike. “Show him what I like.” A frisson moved through the room at that order, everything inverting in one hot moment.

Mike took her at a taut, controlled pace, with that rough little slap each time their bodies met. This was Sam’s favorite view during sex – Mike’s gorgeous torso, upright, clenched and undulating as he thrust. He laid a hand across her mound, thumb on her clit, and the contact arched her back and curled her toes.

“Good.” She squeezed his arms, just as she might Bern’s, and feasted on the sight of her husband’s body. It was the most free she’d felt since these three-way games had begun, letting her new lover finally glimpse behind the scenes, and see her husband for who he really was.

Bern’s gaze was on her, moving from her face to her breasts to the point where their bodies met.

“Can I touch myself?” he asked.

“Of course.” Let him be watched, even as he was the audience.

Sam was burning up, and from so much more than the friction of Mike’s fingers or the rush of his driving cock. From everything her eyes could take in, every sound in her ears and every scent suffusing the room. From the flex of Mike’s abs and the tops of his thighs as he owned her; from the spectacle of Bern’s fist making slow work of his startling cock. From the reality of her own sex life, in this bright, blazing moment.

Her hands were on her breasts, deepening the pleasure. “I’m close, baby.” She said it to Mike, but it was meant for the both of them.

“What do you need?”

“Just this. Don’t stop.”

“Rougher?”

“Yeah.”

He delivered, his thrusts racing, body meeting hers with a force that had her orgasm intensifying to a foregone conclusion. She looked to Bern, finding fire in those blue eyes.

He told her, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You, too.” She dropped her attention to his pumping hand. “Keep on giving me that show.”

“Whatever you need.”

She looked to Mike, finding his expression absent – from arousal, not dispassion. He was too close to stay plugged in without losing himself. She knew that hazy, far-off look so well.

“Get me there, baby,” she said, already on the brink.

A dozen hard thrusts did the job, and when the crescendo struck he dropped to his forearms, pushing his dick deep as she rode the spasms.

“Sam.”

She came back to reality to find her fingers denting his biceps, and felt the crazed expression plastered across her face. She sighed loudly, then glanced at each man in turn with a smile.

Mike lowered, as though doing a push-up, and kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

She nodded, utterly wasted. “That’s me.”

“What now?” Mike whispered, loud enough for Bern to hear.

She swallowed, struggling for clarity and considering the logistics. Bern had to come next, if she wanted to indulge Mike’s reclamation fantasies. “Him,” she said.

Mike eased out, that slick friction tensing her anew. In a breath, Bern was in his place. His cock felt cool as he pushed in deep, taking her breath away. Never had the fact that she was with two men struck her so hard.

“How do you want me?” he asked, taking her slow and steady.

“However you like it.”

He gathered her legs, holding her crossed ankles to his shoulder. His hips bumped her ass with every thrust. He liked this position especially, she bet. Him upright, performing, holding her like an instrument. She liked it as well. Liked feeling mastered.

Mike was at her side, stroking her arm with his fingertips. He had to be close, if he didn’t dare touch himself. Sam leaned over to kiss him, then moved his hand to her breast – more for Bern’s benefit than hers.

A thought struck her. Good God, this is on tape.

The uncontestably hottest night of her life, and she had the homemade porn to prove it. She nearly laughed aloud, giddy at the thought.

Bern swore through a moan. “I shouldn’t be this close already.”

Her heart danced at that proclamation. The thing she wanted most had both of these men teetering on the edge.

“I want you close,” she said, and urged his thrusts with a hand on his side. “I want you to lose it, inside me.”

His eyes shut and his head dropped back, a sign Sam could recognize well, now. “Yeah.”

When’s the last time you got to do this? she wondered. With his last serious girlfriend, likely, but that had been months ago. She selfishly hoped he hated condoms, and had suffered through the necessity of them with any interim lovers. She hoped this was a treat for him, a gift worthy of his fidelity.

“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming, honey.”

“Do it.”

“Get ready. Get ready for me.” He dropped her legs and Sam gripped his shoulders, drawing him down. He raced into his pleasure, eyes blazing, hips furious. With the deepest groan, he froze, buried to the root. His body rocked in three clenching waves, and Sam was lost in the moment. His skin shone, slick in the lamplight, and she doubted he’d ever looked so sexy. She smiled and touched his face, letting her fondness show – letting both men see it.

Bern pulled out and sat beside her, expression dazed. She wondered if he’d go now, too sobered by his orgasm to want to watch what came next. But no.

“Let me see.” He spoke to Sam, but she knew the words were meant for Mike. He wanted to know what went down after he normally took his leave.

Sam was curious herself, how Mike might want to remedy the violation. She expected his mouth, and was surprised when he knelt between her legs once more and slid inside. That moment was beyond explicit – she was wet from so much more than her own arousal and climax. She felt Bern’s spoils slicking the space between them, and Mike had to as well.

“You feel me?” Bern muttered – that was the only word for it. Nearly derisive, the way he asked it.

Mike shut his eyes, fucking hard and fast. “Yeah.”

“Just try to get rid of me,” Bern said, and his attention was on Sam’s face.

Mike was there inside a minute, his orgasm rocking him as a punch might, shock on his face as surely as relief. He closed his panting body over Sam’s, moaning softly into her hair.

She stroked his back and head, and breathed the both of them in, those pungent, mismatched smells that now marked her sex life.

Mike caught his breath and moved to the side. Bern mirrored him and Sam sighed loudly into the air between them, then giggled.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

“Oh good,” Bern said.

Mike added nothing, just kissed her throat and hummed a happy noise. She kissed his temple in reply, then turned to look at Bern. “Thank you.”

“You are so fucking welcome.”

She grinned. “That was awesome.”

“Good. You deserved every second of it.”

Only one orgasm, yet she felt completely annihilated, spent to the point of oblivion.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” Bern whispered. “I’ll show myself out.”

“Okay.”

He kissed her lips one last time and left the bed. Sam listened to him dressing and traced Mike’s face with a fingertip.

Muted footsteps grew faint, then disappeared down the stairs. The click of the dead bolt, then the lock as he shut the door behind him.

She buried her face against Mike’s neck. “Mmmm…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh fuck yeah.”

He laughed, and they fell into a peaceful silence. Sam felt sleep creeping up on her, until Mike drew her back into his orbit.

“Was it different?” he asked, sounding perfectly awake himself. “Having him inside you? Bare?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was sexy. Felt extra forbidden. Sort of… dangerous. And dirty.”

“Could you feel it when he came?”

“Yeah.” That was a lie, of course. But Sam’s mother had always said a kind lie made a fine compliment, so surely a lie that turned your lover’s crank was a valentine. “I felt it. It felt hot when he came.”

Mike swallowed. “What was the hottest thing for you tonight?”

She stroked the swell of his shoulder. “Having both of you, just as you were. It felt like I was the one getting indulged this time…” She frowned. “That’s not quite the right wording. I get indulged plenty when we’re acting out your fantasies.”

“But this was yours. Yours to direct.”

“Yeah. You love imagining I’m cheating on you. I guess I just love feeling that desired by two men. And feeling… shared. Like, in the dirtiest way possible.”

Mike laughed. “Always.”

“We can go back to it being about the cuckolding, of course. I sort of wrecked the continuity tonight. But we can always go back to you two pretending you’ve never met. Back to the days when I just randomly brought someone home.”

“The soap opera parts of it don’t matter to me – the narrative. Not the way it did at first. Just seeing you with another man is plenty intense. Tonight was intense, even with all the humiliation stuff gone.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Part of me was pretty fucking proud, in fact, showing him I know how to please you.”

She smiled. “Me, too.”

“Maybe I’ll change my mind, but if we want to try making these get-togethers about something else – about you getting to be with us both, however you want, or about whatever he might be wanting… I’m happy to take us all off the script. See where this goes as a straight-up threesome.”

“I would be, too. And I’ll talk to him. See if he’s on the same page.”

“Though I think we’re back to surveillance fun, for next weekend,” Mike said, winding Sam’s hair around his finger.

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Mike was going to be in Philadelphia for three days, for a statewide narcotics summit. “So just me and him, if that’s okay.”

They’d not done that yet – just Sam and Bern the entire time, and Mike watching via live feed. She’d been wondering how it would be afterward. How she and Bern would say good night once the show was over. If he’d stick around for a drink, or be gone as quickly as when he was here to play Sam’s heartless piece on the side. She thought back to this very evening, thinking she’d better have her boundaries in order. In the middle of getting ravaged by a hot electrician was not the time to try to get one’s head on straight about propriety.

“Works for me,” Mike said, letting her hair spool from his finger in a long curl. “And I’m sure it’ll work for him. You guys just do whatever you want.”

“Oh, speaking of cameras…” She left the lazy comfort of the bed with a grudging groan to shut the laptop. “So, Saturday night?”

“Yeah. The meetings are supposed to wrap early that night. I’ll grab a quick dinner and be free by seven.”

“Fingers crossed your hotel Wi-Fi is nice and fast,” she teased as she lay back down beside him, rubbing her thumb across his stubbled chin.

He smiled, bent his head to kiss her knuckles. “Amen.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Bern was free the coming Saturday, and plans solidified through a handful of texts.

Can’t fucking wait, he wrote that Monday.

Us, either. See you around 6:30.

With Mike leaving for Philly on Wednesday morning, Sam’s week would feel endless, even if the anticipation always sweetened these dates.

She waded through the workweek, her normally stimulating job no longer holding a candle to the dynamism of her personal life. No fewer than three of her coworkers asked her if she was feeling okay. She assured them she was.

“Just spacey. One of those weeks.” Just horny out of my ever-loving mind, thanks.

Saturday arrived, along with the usual happy jitters. Mike texted around noon with a bit of a letdown.

Hey, pretty, you jinxed us. Just tried watching YouTube and the connection here sucks donkey balls. Why don’t you guys tape yourselves tonight and e-mail it to me?

“Boo,” she said to the living room at large, then typed, Aww, that stinks! But okay – I doubt your heart could handle the buffering. And the show must go on, huh?

Fucking right. Plus, this way I can grab drinks with a few of the guys after the last meeting wraps. Love you. See you before bed, I hope…?

Banging another man? Absolutely! xoxo

Except just a few minutes shy of five, a phone call chimed. Sam greeted her mother cheerfully, expecting the usual family gossip, but it was a different sort of news that followed. Sam felt the weight of the real world come crashing down around her, as painful and sudden as a shot in the heart.

She hung up with tears streaming, wetting her shirt collar and slipping between her breasts. It was all she could do to tap out a shaky text to Bern. Something just came up. I have to cancel tonight – I’m sorry. I’ll explain soon. She set her phone aside, throat so tight it ached, eyes raw.

Mike was probably still having drinks. Going to call you later tonight, she texted. Try to be free after dinner. She’d try his phone at seven, when she and Bern had been due to hit RECORD for him. It might interrupt his social plans, but she needed to talk to him so badly. Needed him here with her, as the news left her feeling suspended, the earth crumbled away from beneath her feet. She gripped the counter’s edge, rocked by a sob, and moaned into the emptiness. Seven couldn’t come soon enough, though the wait would give her time to compose herself. She’d take a bath. That would —

The doorbell chimed.

“Oh fuck.” Her phone said it was six fifteen, so it could only be Bern. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, but there was no way he’d miss that she’d been crying. She’d showered after a long run but not gotten around to changing or doing her makeup before the news had struck. It didn’t matter now. It felt as though nothing mattered anymore.

She twisted the bolt and opened the door, her sheepish smile quivering. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He paused, his own smile wilting. He had a bottle of wine under one arm. “Are you okay?”

She laughed, feeling mixed up and freaked out and ridiculous. An utter mess. “Not at all, no. Sorry. I texted, but you were probably already driving.”

“Did you need to cancel?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I just got some bad news. I’m not really feeling very…” And she trailed off, voice swallowed by a warble. “Sorry,” she gasped.

“Hey, it’s okay. I should’ve checked my phone. I didn’t mean to intrude… Maybe you should sit down a sec.” He stepped inside and shut the door.

She wiped at her runny nose with her wrist and they walked down the hall to the living room. Sam sank onto the couch cushions. She reached for a tissue but the box was empty.

“Hang on.” Bern set the wine bottle on the breakfast bar and disappeared inside the bathroom, returning with a roll of toilet paper. “Here.”

Grinning in embarrassment, Sam accepted it. “Thank you.” She blew her nose. “Are you feeling seduced yet?” she joked, heart loosening by a degree when Bern smiled.

His gaze was mild, calm. Kind. “Can I ask what happened?”

“You can, but only if you’re prepared for me to have three dimensions.”

He looked troubled at that, eyebrows drawing together. She’d never seen him wear that expression before.

“I mean, only if we want to wreck our group fantasy,” she said, “by you seeing me as more than just your… whatever you think of me as. Kinky fling partner? We’ve managed to keep everything all fun and games before now. I’d hate to drag it down.”

“You’re my lover, Sam, not a blow-up doll. You’ve had three dimensions since the first time we talked on the phone. You’ve had about six since what happened last weekend. And if my acting like a friend to you feels too intimate…” He laughed again, softly, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Sam, your husband’s sucked my dick. You think a little crying’s going to scare me off?”

She had to smile, tears still slipping free. “When you put it like that…”

“So what happened?”

“My cousin died.”

“Oh God, that sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you. I haven’t seen her in years – she lived in Tehran, like most of my dad’s family does. But she used to visit every summer when we were kids.”

“You guys were close?”

“I’m two years older, but she was always more sophisticated and worldly than me, so it felt like we came of age together, sort of time-lapse-style.”

“Can I ask what…”

“She was walking, and I guess someone ran a red light. Just one of those freaky things.”

“Shit. That fucking sucks, Sam.” He paused. “Wish I had something more poetic or comforting to say. But mostly that just really sucks.”

Sam laughed, fresh sobs rising. “That’s all that can be said about it, really. So thanks… Anyhow, I’m just dealing with that. My mom only called around five, so I’m still in shock.”

“Sure. Want me to go, or stick around and distract you?”

“God, I dunno.” She smoothed her hair back, curls wild and fuzzy from air-drying. “I’m such a fucking mess tonight.”

“I’ll at least stick around for a bit. It’s no good being on your own right after you get news like that.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“Sure. We’ll talk about other stuff, then.”

She dabbed at her eyes. “Like?”

“Like anything… Like when did your dad come here? To the States?”

“In his early thirties, with my mom. He’s an engineering professor.”

“Really? My dad’s an engineer. Or was – he retired a couple of years ago.”

“Oh?” Sam mustered the energy to make small talk. It felt nice, actually. A relief. “Let me guess – electrical engineering?”

“No, structural. Rail and bridge infrastructure.”

“What about your mom?”

“She teaches high school English.”

Sam considered that. “Is that how an electrician came to write his e-mails and texts with such studious capitalization and punctuation?”

Bern smiled. “Yup, that’s her fault.”

“So how’d you get into your field?”

“It’s a pretty boring story.”

“Boring sounds nice, just now.” It beat sad, certainly. “Tell me.”

“Well, my parents are hard-asses,” he said, “and if I was going to college, I had to pay my own way. I didn’t want to do farmwork, which is most of what there is to do where I’m from. I tried driving delivery trucks but hated that. My dad got me connected with a contractor friend, and I just… I dunno, I really liked it. I did menial work for a couple of years when I was eighteen, nineteen, and thought the electrical stuff looked the most interesting, so I got certified. Then I apprenticed for a guy I knew from that contracting company, worked a few years, and realized that all that time, I’d been saving money for this education I was supposed to get, except there was no other field I was all that interested in. I was happy doing what I was, and getting paid well for it. So. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” she agreed, and her gaze dropped from his eyes to his chest, to his long legs, his strong hands. It wasn’t a lustful scrutiny, just a momentary rush of… something softer. Something humbling. Gratitude to have him here, acting like a friend. Being a friend. Being three-dimensional, just as she’d feared becoming to him.

Why wouldn’t I want that? I don’t really want to sleep with the idea of a man. I want to sleep with a human being. A hot, charismatic one with undeniable skills in bed and a very, very open mind. A kind one, too, who made her feel human in return.

Even if he didn’t feel like comforting and distracting her, even if he wished he’d gotten her text and saved himself the trip… even if he’d go home disappointed that he hadn’t gotten laid, he was doing everything a friend would. Setting his wants aside, treating her well. And it was undeniably calming. Her body hurt less. Her heart had loosened some, and that choking sensation had faded along with the initial shock of the sad news.

They chatted more about their upbringings, about Sam’s college years, about the small town where Bern had grown up, about Pittsburgh. When the conversation hit a natural break, she sighed, feeling lighter.

“Little calmer?” he asked.

“Yeah.” It was hard not to feel calm around this man. His voice alone was like a nightcap.

She reached out and touched his hand. Funny how intimate – how bold – that felt, after everything else they’d done. Bold but pleasant. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you got your time wasted tonight, but it was nice to not be alone with myself for a little while.”

He smiled and turned his hand over, circling her wrist loosely in his fingers. “My time wasn’t wasted. I don’t think people can do the things we have with and for each other without qualifying as friends, Samira. And anyone who thinks it’s a waste of their time, hanging out with a friend who’s having a shitty day… well, they deserve a punch in the side of the head.”

She laughed, rubbing his palm with her thumb. “Good point.”

“I brought wine, and my night’s all freed up. You want to watch TV or a movie or something?” He paused, seeming to reconsider. “I mean, unless that’s weird. Unless Mike would be uncomfortable with that.”

Mike. She wasn’t certain if she’d ever heard Bern speak his name before. And she had to give the matter serious thought. What would Mike want? For his wife to sit home alone with her grief, if the alternative was for her to get her emotional comfort from his sexual rival? There was a line buried in here somewhere, a blurry one. But she also doubted that Bern had any designs on her apart from fun and sex. He wasn’t trying to move in on her, or on Mike’s role as her partner.

She told Bern, “I think he’d rather I had the company.”

“You can check with him.”

She considered it, but he was probably still out, and she hadn’t told him precisely when to expect her call. “He’s having drinks with colleagues right now.”

“Glass of wine while we wait?”

Sam thought about it. “You know what? He thinks you’re coming over tonight to fuck me. If he’s going to have an issue with us hanging out fully clothed, as friends, on a night when I really don’t feel like being alone…? That’s an argument I’m willing to have with him. So, executive decision – sure. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Right, then. You pick, I’ll pour.”

Sam knew a lot of things about Bern Davies’s tastes, but none of them helped her as she scrolled through the offerings on Netflix. He seemed like an action-movie kind of guy. And she could go for some mindless explosions and stunts just now. “How about I pick three, and then you decide between those?” she called.

Bern was at the breakfast bar, busy with the cork. “Just pick. I’ll watch whatever.”

“That’s too much pressure. I’ll choose three.”

“As you like it,” he said, and walked over to deliver glasses and the open bottle to the coffee table.

“Okay,” she said, eyes narrowed at the screen. “This new superhero thing is option number one.”

“Already saw it. Kinda sucked.”

“See? I told you choices were important. Okay, how about something older, then?” she asked, scrolling. “I’ve never seen Commando.”

“A classic.”

“Okay, Commando, or…”

“Commando. Hit PLAY.”

“Bossy,” she scolded, but did as he said.

Bern took a seat and filled the glasses. Sam got comfy, sitting cross-legged and pulling the afghan over her lap. She wasn’t cold, just vulnerable, and the weight of it was comforting. Same as Bern’s arm might feel if she leaned into it… but she didn’t dare. She was studying that arm as the studio logo appeared, and he noticed.

She turned to the screen. “Sorry. You have distracting arms.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“No, just being honest.” She glanced down at herself and laughed. “Wow, you’re really peering behind the curtain tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got that bad news before I could pick out some clothes or do anything with my hair.”

“I think you look beautiful.”

She snorted. “This is what I’d wear to clean the house.”

“Well, you must look beautiful when you’re dusting, then.”

She smacked his shoulder. “You Southern men.”

“What about us?”

“What’s the term? Honey-dripper.”

He made a face, the picture of innocence. “Never. I just call it like I see it.”

“Do you get teased by the other contractors for that accent?”

“Sometimes. I had this one guy who was always calling me ‘Rodeo.’ I tried to tell him I’ve never been on a horse in my life, but he wasn’t hearing it…” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

She nudged him with her elbow. “What?”

“How were your parents, when you hooked up with Mike? Are they traditional about stuff, like wanting you to marry a guy from the same background?”

She shrugged. “I think my mom was, but she never came out and said it. My dad couldn’t care less. He’s really into the American melting-pot concept, not traditional at all. The only thing I know we did that disappointed them was not having kids.”

“That’s officially off the table, huh?”

Sam nodded. “We’ve always been ambivalent. And, I mean, we’ve had little moments where one of us is suddenly intrigued by the idea, but we’ve had way more moments where we’re positive it’s not for us. And parenthood isn’t a decision I want to go into half-assed, you know?”

“Sure.”

“What about you?”

“I dunno. I want to say yeah, I’d like kids someday. But I’d have to get married, and at the moment that’s really not high on my priority list.”

“You’ve got time.”

He made a face. “I’m thirty-six. Gimme four years to meet and fall in love with the right woman, and I’m already looking at forty-year-old dadhood.”

“Forty’s nothing these days. Especially for the guy. Now me – if I changed my mind tomorrow, my eggs are already on the fifty-percent-off day-old shelf, halfway to the Dumpster.”

Bern laughed and winced at once. “Harsh.”

“It’s true!” She leaned forward to top off her glass. “I’d get all those weird looks from people, like, Gray hair and pregnant? And my mom would be sending me links to articles about every terrifying older-mother birth defect there is. But you – you’d just get teased by people, like, Uh-oh, Bern, looks like your bachelor days are over!” She poked him in the arm. “In fact, you’d probably get thrown a party to celebrate your virility or something. All while my ovaries are being serenaded with a funeral dirge. You hit forty and you get put out to stud. I hit forty and I’m off to the glue factory.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’re fucking insane.”

Sam sank back in her seat, vindicated. “It’s all true. Don’t bother trying to deny it.”

“Drink your wine, crazy lady.”

She took a big sip, realizing the heavier feelings had lifted enough that she could register the alcohol’s warm tingle. She hadn’t taken any of the movie in, and when machine-gun fire flared, Bern lowered the volume.

He said quietly, “It’s nice to see you smiling again.”

Sam nodded. “When you get news like that, it’s hard to remember there’s other ways to feel, aside from just… agonized.”

“You need to talk more?”

“No. Thank you. I feel sort of numb about it just now, like I’ve used all my sadness up for the night. I’m sure I’ll be a wreck again tomorrow, but for now, I think I can just sit with it. Let it sink in, in the back of my head, while I let other stuff distract me.”

“Good plan.” Bern regarded her for a long moment, gaze slipping from her eyes to her shoulder. His hand came up to touch her hair, giving one curl a soft tug and watching it spring back. “I like your hair like that.”

“Tell me you like it the other way, too, because it’s embarrassing how long it takes to get it to look that good.”

He smiled, the gesture etching little lines under his eyes. “I do. But it’s neat to see what it looks like, left to its own devices… You know when you’ve been dating someone for two or three months, and you’re getting pretty comfortable with each other, but you still make a decent effort every time you have a date?”

She nodded.

“Then suddenly they get the flu or something, and you get to see what they’re like at their worst. Looking like hell, and no charm at all, all needy and everything?”

“And?”

He grinned. “I love that. I love the first glimpse I get of a girlfriend when she’s just a wreck.”

Sam laughed. “You’re sick.”

“No, really. I dated this one girl for a few months, and she was great, but I never saw her without full makeup on. We fall asleep, she’s wearing makeup. By the time I see her the next morning, she’s redone it for the day. I mean, I don’t really care what a woman wants to do to her face, but it was starting to feel weird. Then she got mono, and it was kind of awesome.”

“You’re horrible!”

“No, I’m telling you. She was way too pooped to do anything – which sucked, of course, except I was just, like, fascinated to look at her with no makeup on. She had all these little freckles I’d never seen, and her eyelashes looked so… delicate. It felt like I was reading her diary or something.”

“Well, okay, that’s sort of sweet.” Yet something sour squirmed in Sam’s middle – jealousy. It didn’t warrant feeding, of course. She was married, and Bern was her lover, nothing more. Why the hell should she care if he still harbored fond feelings for some ex-girlfriend? If anything, it should commend him. “Why did you guys break up?”

“Oh God, I can’t remember. This must have been ten years ago.”

Yet he still remembered her naked eyelashes. Jesus, would you listen to yourself? Whatever. This entire crazy affair had Sam feeling as mixed-up as a teenager. It stood to reason she’d revert to a younger woman’s irrational emotions now and then. Perspective was the key. Be psycho, but with self-awareness.