Текст книги "Unraveled"
Автор книги: Jen Frederick
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Every square inch of my body felt sensitized, as if I’d been an unlit Christmas tree and I’d just been plugged in. I wanted to feel his hands all over, not just on that patch of thigh. I needed his touch in those secret places, those places I thought had calcified. I’d thought I’d been waiting for the smooth hands of an accountant but the longer, rougher fingers pushing the hem of my shorts up couldn’t belong to a man who worked in an office.
His tongue and mouth broke from mine to leave a hot, wet path from my mouth, across my jaw line, and down to my neck. My leg lifted of its own accord and he took it as a sign to hitch me up higher until both my legs either dangled off the floor or wrapped around him. I chose to wrap my legs around him and was rewarded with a thick hard column pressing into my sex. We both groaned at the contact and I could feel his sound against my neck. The reverberations sent minor shocks throughout my nervous system. Holding me up against the wall, he began thrusting against me rhythmically, every impact of his hips making me hotter and wetter than I thought I could get.
I gripped him tighter with my legs and dug my hands into his hair, using every bit of his body as leverage. He held me up with ease, as if I were a feather. One hand was under my right butt cheek and the other was exploring my left side, pulling out my T-shirt, only to find the tank underneath. Needing his mouth back, I tugged on his hair and he took the hint immediately. He fastened his lips over mine and we devoured each other, still rubbing our lower bodies against each other as the bass from the dance floor pounded the floor boards.
Whimpering, I begged in moans and small cries for more. A familiar but almost forgotten tension was winding its way from between my legs outward. All thoughts of storage rooms and hallways and strangers were lost in the swirl of bright lights bursting behind my eyelids.
“I got you, baby,” he growled against my mouth. “Just let go.” And so I did. I closed my eyes and let those long-dormant feelings wash over me, spreading from the inside of my legs to the nerve endings in my toes and fingertips and the very top of my head. And he kept grinding and grinding and grinding against me, whispering in my ear how I was the hottest thing he’d ever held, how he couldn’t wait to taste me, how he’d die if he couldn’t be inside me tonight.
CHAPTER THREE
Gray
I’D GONE INSIDE TO TAKE a leak and to look at the top shelf row of liquor to see what kind of celebration drinks I could buy the boys when I’d seen the little blonde bartender from the patio. Her hair was caught up in a high ponytail that swung like a rope down her back. I’d already caught myself staring at her several times throughout the night as the crowd at the bar, which was mostly dick, parted and closed like a peek-a-boo game. The glimpses they’d revealed weren’t half as interesting as the whole package. Standing about ten feet from me and caught in the grasp of another woman, the bartender had shot me a deer-in-the-headlights look. I couldn’t resist helping a sixty-year-old grandmother at the airport, and I had even less fight against the unspoken plea for assistance from a twenty-something beauty.
I abandoned my liquor hunting and headed over. I’d had no plans to lead her down the dark hallway and dry hump her to an orgasm because, as I told the Woodlands crew earlier, these types of bar hook ups were generally unsatisfactory. I’d thought to escort her back to the bar outside but when she paused and stared at me like she knew me, I felt a jolt. Suddenly I didn’t want to take her outside where there were other people—other men—who would look at her and want her. I’m not sure who turned down the dark hallway first, but it was the right place for me to taste her full lips and grip her long ponytail.
Her lips had felt as soft and suckable as I thought they would be. She tasted tart, as if she’d had a vodka lemon shot. The hot cavern of her mouth made me think of other hot, wet areas on her body and I wanted to explore all of them.
There wasn’t much thought in my head other than how kissing her wouldn’t be enough. At the very least, I needed to get my hand under those shorts or under her shirt. I had to touch more bare skin but her shorts only went up so far and under her shirt there was more damn fabric. I really wanted to rip those shirts up over her head and draw one delicious tit into my mouth.
Before I could get any closer to her, I’d felt a trembling in her legs and her breath had started to come in harsh, jagged pants. She was so turned on by just the kissing, just the press of our bodies together, that she was ready to come right then. And I wasn’t going to stop that. I pressed my hard-on with more force against her cotton-clad pussy and felt her explode.
Feeling her come apart in my arms just from kissing her made me feel like a giant, and it left me with a hard-on the size of California. Had I ever been a fool to say that a bar hookup wasn’t good? Maybe I just hadn’t had the right bar hookup. All my little rules about dating, hook ups, and women were somewhere in a puddle under my feet. There was only one thought in my mind now. I needed to find us some privacy—immediately. Desperate to lay her down on any surface, I pulled away from the wall, holding her against me. Her body was lax in its post orgasmic state. There was a door just to her right.
“Sam,” I whispered as gently as I could, not wanting to disturb her moment but desperate for some relief myself. “That room. Is it private?” Sam turned her head, still resting on my shoulder.
“Yes, storage room.”
I started for the door before she got past the word yes. “I need you bad, Sam. Once we’re inside, I’m going to strip off these shorts and stick my head between your legs and lap up all the juice your body just made for me.” She shuddered and clenched her legs tighter around me. She liked the dirty talk. I’d have to remember that. We got to the door, and I leaned down to open it, not wanting her to let go. “After I’m done eating you out, I’m going to—” I never got the rest of the promise out.
“Hey, Mrs. A.” A voice called from the end of the hall. “Mark’s asking for you.”
Sam jerked upright and pushed away from me. I let her drop to the ground as the words sunk in. Mrs. A as in Mrs. Anderson? I grabbed her left hand and raised it. Sure enough there was a fucking diamond on that hand and it was not a small piece of shit like some of the recruits bought at the local mall. “What the hell is this?” I asked, raising her hand between us. I never, ever cheated. I’d been on the other end of that shitty stick and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Having discovered that I was making out with a married dude’s lady made me sick.
“It’s none of your business.” Her face paled when she saw the ring. Probably afraid that her dirty secret was going to come back to bite her in the ass. She tried to wrench her hand away but I had things to say to her.
“None of my business, my ass.” I got up right into her face. “You better hope your man doesn’t come in here tonight because I will not hesitate to fucking tell him that his woman has absolutely no morals. I do not appreciate being dragged into whatever sordid little thing you’ve got going on with your bar patrons. Next time you feel like cheating on your man, consider taking your ring off first. It’s a dead fucking giveaway.” I flung her hand away as if it was diseased. She might be. My skank of an ex had tried to climb back into my bed with syph between her legs. “Or better yet, just break it off and stop trying to climb every available dick you think might taste good.”
I stomped off before Sam could utter whatever excuses she was ready to vomit out. I was furious at her, but even more pissed off at myself. My dick was still as hard as steel, and it was aching from the lack of attention. It wanted me to run back to her, ignore the ring, and just let myself push inside what was probably a juicy pussy. She’d be a good fuck. Cheaters usually are.
If I’d taken a minute, just one minute, I could’ve easily checked out her ring finger but I was too busy staring at things like her lips and her chest and her ass. I was too busy fantasizing about grabbing that ponytail and wrapping around my hand while she rode me hard. The whole event just reinforced that bar hook ups were a shitty idea. Heck, I don’t think I’d mind sticking my dick in crazy so long as she was up-front and honest, neither of which applied to Sam Anderson.
Samantha
SHOCK HAD ME LEANING AGAINST the wall, weak as a kitten. Shock from having an orgasm brought about by activities I hadn’t done since I was a teenager. Shock at being yelled at for cheating. I’d come into the bar as twenty-two-year-old Sam Anderson, widow, bartender, knitter. Now I didn’t know who I was because I’d just nearly screwed a stranger in the storeroom of my place of employment. The first time I’d had sex with Will, I’d been so nervous because I thought his parents would come busting through the doors of the pool house. And now I was wrapping myself around a guy I’d never met before.
“Mrs A.?” It was Steve again. He was the only one who called me that here. Like Teresa, Steve had gone to school with Will and me and had started calling me Mrs. A in high school. At the time Will and I had thought it was funny. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just fine,” I lied and pushed away from the wall. Smoothing my shorts down and tucking in my shirt, I kept my gaze on the floor, not sure what I’d see in Steve’s eyes.
“That guy causing you problems? He can be gone in a heartbeat.”
“No, we just had a disagreement over…limes.”
“Limes?” Steve asked skeptically.
“Um, right, well, he said I put too many limes in his Corona. He’d only wanted one and I guess I shoved two in there.” I peeked through my eyelashes to see Steve frowning.
“Mark asked me to send you up to the VIP lounge.”
“Thanks.” The second floor held a small VIP lounge that Mark usually worked, ensuring all of Adam's dad's friends were properly served. It meant constant sucking up to old rockers who thought they were still the hottest thing on the billboard charts instead of musicians whose names not one person downstairs other than Adam could name. But I’d rather stroke the ego of these guys for the rest of the night than go downstairs and serve drinks with Gray about ten feet away the whole time. God, maybe I was emotionally fragile.
"Sweetheart, so glad you’re up here taking care of me tonight," one of the regulars called out.
I gave him a wry smile because, for once, I was glad to take care of the older set. I was careful to treat them like they were still young and hot lest I hurt their feelings. "Me too, Ollie. Need me to top off that whiskey?”
"You know it."
What I’d just done in the hallway of Gatsby’s was so incredibly out of character, so incredibly dumb—so incredibly good, dammit. I wanted to sit down by Ollie and cry my eyes out. Mark would certainly think twice, maybe even three times, about allowing me to work here if that happened.
It was like someone else had taken control of my body. I’d never, ever been into public displays of affection and here I was dry humping a stranger. Worse, he was a friend of Adam’s who, for all intents and purposes, was like my boss. Sex wasn’t even that important to me. I didn’t own a vibrator. I rarely ever masturbated. Those urges rarely poked their head into my thought process. Sure, I missed Will and Will’s body, but he’d been gone a lot, and I’d gotten used to being alone even before he’d died. Will had gone to Basic and then off to Alaska for training, and since I hadn’t gone with him, I’d been by myself.
What I needed was a vibrator. It’d just been so long without any sexual release that a guy who wasn’t even my type could get me off. Heck, Eve could’ve gotten me off in the hallway if she’d been rubbing me right. It was just a normal reaction to long dormant feelings, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and continued my internal pep talk. It was normal. I’d never have to see this Gray Phillips from San Diego again if I didn’t want. He was visiting and would be going home after the weekend.
I liked safe and comfortable, not crazy encounters with strangers. New guys and new experiences were all overrated, amazing orgasm aside. I’m sure I could give that to myself. I’d try it tonight in fact. Right when I got home, I’d head for the shower and use the old variable water spray. Upstairs in the tiny VIP lounge, I wrapped myself in the memory of Will and my old friend grief, because even though its heavy weight made it hard to get out of bed in the morning and tried to smother me with memories at night, I had learned how to handle it. Working long hours at the bar on the weekends helped, and I hoped spending every waking minute studying once school started in the fall would have the same numbing effect. Either that or I was going to have to medicate myself with Vicodin and Xanax cocktails like Will's mom. We'd be a pair. But as awful as the grief was, at least I knew how to deal with it. The awkward feelings of attraction toward someone else were strange and unfamiliar and kind of terrifying and I just didn’t need that in my life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gray
I WAS STILL STEAMED WHEN I made it back to the table. The band hadn’t reappeared, and all the girls had left. Either dancing to some ABBA shit or going to the bathroom, I guessed.
“What’s up, hoss?” Noah asked, clearly seeing I was pissed off.
“Nothing a little liquor won’t cure.” I picked up a new bottle of beer and drained half of it before setting it down.
“Someone call you a boot?” Bo wondered. Boot was what we called new Marines or stupid Marines, which were often the same thing.
"I wish.” I tried to smile and joke back so I didn’t ruin the evening with a shitty attitude. “I’m not even wearing any gear from the Corps.”
"Another reason to get out, buddy. You can stop wearing clothes issued by Uncle Sam."
"That's not even in the top ten reasons why not to re-enlist."
"Glad to know you're making a list." Bo clinked his bottle against mine.
"The list to get out is always longer than the one to stay in."
"Sounds like you already made up your mind."
I sucked down my bottle. "Who knows? Maybe."
"Do you even need this vacation?”
"Even if I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t say. Who's going to turn down forty-five days of consecutive leave?"
Bo laughed as I’d intended. With his attention diverted, I gave myself a mental shake. So I kissed a married woman. It’s not like I knew that going in. Otherwise, it would’ve never happened. I wasn’t going to allow one cheating woman to ruin my time here.
“Get out then. Come here to Central with us. It’ll be like old times.”
"Not everyone has a trust fund to fall back on."
Bo smirked. "Don't try that with me, son of a congressman. You aren't hurting."
"What's this?" AnnMarie and the rest of the girls had returned. By the looks of their freshly applied makeup, bathroom had been the right call. I tried to warn Bo to keep his mouth shut, but he'd already started spilling it all out.
"Gray's dad is the Honorable Phillips from the—what district is it?"
"Fifth," Noah offered. I closed my eyes in resignation. So much for trying to be anonymous. Whatever advantage I'd been trying to achieve through being in entirely different surroundings where no one knew me was lost, but I’d never told Bo and Noah I wanted anonymity so that was on me. I should have went white water rafting in Colorado for a month with a bunch of strangers. I should've packed less gear. I should've avoided that last conversation with my dad. I should’ve turned away from Sam Anderson’s doe eyes. Lots of should haves.
Bo knocked me in the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, it can only go up from here."
"Thanks, man." I gave an obligatory laugh and tried to loosen up.
A few minutes later a rough group of guys showed up. Four of them, varying heights and hair colors, were sporting the same tattooed tough-guy look. They wore sneakers, T-shirts, and chains running from the sagging waistband of their ripped jeans to the wallets stuck in the front pockets. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of bare skin. One of them greeted Adam by knocking his forearm against Adam's forearm twice. Lots of civilians gave the military crap for their uniforms but everyone had a uniform. You only had to look around the table to see it. College kids wore the uniform of lazy carelessness. These newcomers’ clothing, hair, and attitudes all indicated they were in the same tribe. Uniforms were everywhere; discipline, however, was not.
I balanced on my chair lightly and didn't pick up a drink, not wanting to be caught off guard if a fight started. Worse thing about being off base? Not having a weapon at the ready. My trigger finger itched and I scanned the grounds to see what I could use just in case.
“There’s no danger here. Ease off Marine,” Noah whispered in my ear. I gave him a rueful smile and settled back. Another chair was brought up and the guy who greeted Adam dropped into it while his friends wandered back into the bar. Our waitress brought out a glass filled to the top with a dark lager. Introductions were made around the table although it was clear that they were for my benefit. Most of the table appeared to have met this Tucker Anderson before.
When I heard his name I tensed up for another reason. Shit, I bet this was Sam’s husband. She had a lot of nerve kissing me in the back hallway when her husband could’ve shown up at anytime.
"How's your dick?" Tucker asked Adam. "You laying off the pussy like I told you to?"
Was Tucker some kind of doctor that'd he be asking about Adam's dick all casual like? The rest of the table wanted to know the answer to the question.
"Thanks for your lack of discretion, buddy." Adam folded his arms and glared at Tucker.
Tucker spread his hands innocently in front of him. "I'm raising your dating capital." To the girls at the table, he announced, "Adam got his dick pierced."
He wasn’t wrong. Almost before he got out the word “pierced” the entire bar tilted toward Adam. Even Bo and Noah's girls leaned toward Adam with interest in their eyes. The questions came fast.
"Did it hurt?"
"What kind?"
"How does it feel?"
And from our waitress, "Are you gonna show us?"
Bo looked at AnnMarie's avid curiosity and groaned. "Oh, sunshine, no. You wouldn't do that to little Bo, now would you?"
AnnMarie nestled back in Bo's arms and giggled. "Nah, only because you're not so little." That was exactly the right line to deliver and Bo laid a kiss on her that raised the temperature of the group about five degrees. My two boys settling down made me feel strange inside, a little empty. It was an unwelcome feeling and I drank the rest of my bottle trying to drown it.
Tucker abandoned Adam to target Finn next. "Thanks for sending your girlfriend's sister by. She's working out great."
"She's my ex, but thanks. Winter's very talented." Finn's voice held an odd oppressive note, like he didn't want to talk about it but Tucker was oblivious.
"You might tell her that." Tucker smirked. "Your ex-girlfriend was all over the ink shop yesterday telling Winter about how you two were about heartbeats away from registering at Target."
This reveal only made Finn's glower turn darker. Maybe Tucker wasn't oblivious. Maybe he was just an asshole. Not that this excused Sam for cheating on him. She should’ve chosen better in the first place.
"Lay off, Anderson," Adam said coolly and turned a warning gaze at Finn. No crazy shit in his bar, he telegraphed. Finn got the message and stared at the band, cutting Tucker out. Having lost his toy, Tucker scanned the bar and then turned to Adam. "Where's Sam? She said she was working tonight."
Adam gave a nod toward the second floor of the bar. "VIP."
"Why? She hates it up there."
Maybe because she’s found an ounce of shame and took herself away from the scene of the crime. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, the guilt scratching at my back. I had to come clean to this guy, but not in front of everyone.
"She doesn't hate it. Besides, I think it was too crowded down here for her," Adam said.
"Whatever. I need to see her. I think she's pissed at me," Tucker said.
"How come?"
"Why d’you automatically assume I'd done something?" Tucker complained, but he caved under Adam's cool stare. "Fine. I skipped out on the memorial lunch."
Adam and Finn cursed in unison.
"You're a douchebag. Your brother dies during deployment and you can’t even bring yourself to go to lunch?” Adam punched Tucker in the arm. From Tucker's wince, the fist carried a bit more power than a friendly smack. Tucker must've felt guilty because he took the punch without retaliation. So maybe Tucker was a serious douche, but that still didn’t excuse Sam from kissing me.
"Yeah, yeah, but seriously, I need to see her. When's she got a break?" Tucker asked.
Adam stared at him for a moment, kind of measuring him up. "You still got a thing for her? If so, you better start treating her right."
"Or else what? You're going make a move?" Tucker asked a little belligerently. This was like a goddamn telenovela. I looked at Bo and he wiggled his eyebrows. But seriously they were asking if Tucker still had a thing for his own wife? Were they separated? I wanted to stand up, yell time out and have everyone explain themselves because I was damned confused. The one thing I did figure out was I owed someone an apology and right now I had a feeling that apology needed to be given to Sam.
"No, dumbass. And I don't think you should either,” Adam replied.
"Why, because of Will?" Tucker returned. More belligerence. Everyone at the table was watching this train wreck. We couldn’t look away. "At least I'm not fucking sisters."
This was apparently directed toward Finn because he leaned forward immediately and shot back, "No, you’re only trying to fuck your dead brother's widow."
Tucker's chair made a screeching sound when he stood up, fists at the ready. Finn had risen to meet the challenge and everyone on my side of the table tensed up. We were backing Finn. No question. But Adam stood and separated the two.
"Come on, Tucker, let's go upstairs." Tucker allowed himself to be dragged away while Finn stood glaring at the two of them. He kicked one of the chairs and then left the bar. A minute later, we heard the roar of a hemi engine as Finn drove away.
"Did I catch that right? Tucker Anderson is Sam's brother-in-law? And he wants in her panties?" Everyone nodded, wide-eyed. Yup, I'd gotten that right, which meant I’d gotten everything oh-so-wrong before. Well, shit. All the details clicked into place. Sam was a widow of a military guy who’d died over in the Middle East. Her brother-in-law was the crapbag who’d just taken off. And I was the fucker who’d accused her of cheating on her dead husband. I started toward the bar.
"Don't go there," Bo said warningly. “No need to save damsels you don’t even know.”
"Go where?" I pretended like I didn't know what he was talking about.
“She’s got all she can handle if her brother-in-law is looking for a poke," Noah added.
"Ugh, can we not talk about that poor girl like this?" Grace interjected.
"Sorry," we all mumbled. It was low class. She’d made the ultimate sacrifice, losing her man in battle. That had to be respected and I wasn’t leaving until I’d made amends.
Samantha
AFTER GATSBY’S CLEARED OUT, I came down and helped Eve cash out the patio bar. “The hottie that arrived with Adam left alone, or at least without a girl. Maisey was mad because he wouldn't even accept her number. Just said that she was too pretty for him.”
I ignored her and sorted and arranged the bills so all the numbers were facing the same direction. Orderly things made sense. Knitting a precise pattern of stitches into a blanket or socks made sense. Trying to figure out a new man? That did not make sense.
"He came up to the bar a couple of times. Like he was looking for someone,” Eve said.
My hand hovered over the bills for a moment as a little thrill inside of me surged up. He looked for me? No, stop it, I thought, and clenched my hand for a moment, the pain of my nails digging into my palm bringing me back down to earth.
Eve put out a hand to stop my counting. “Steve said you had a run-in with a customer and that’s why you hid upstairs all night. The patron he described sounded a lot like Adam’s new friend.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them to see Eve still staring at me. “Yeah, it was him. I kissed him.” I didn’t tell her that I virtually dragged him down the dark hallway and then climbed him like a pole and rubbed against him like a cat in heat until I was left with wet panties and a whole lot of regrets.
Eve squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, Sam, that’s awesome. What happened next?” She placed her fingers under her chin for support and batted her eyelashes. “Tell me more. Tell me more. Did he put up a fight?”
I smiled at her use of the words from Grease. “No, Sandra Dee, he did not, but when he saw my wedding ring he was plenty pissed off.”
“Oh no.” She groaned and lifted my left hand. She grimaced slightly. “Do you think you’re ready to take that off? You definitely don’t want to be attracting guys who think it’s okay to hit on married women.”
“I hadn’t even thought of it that way.” I didn’t know if I was ready to take off the ring. Removing the band seemed to signal that I was ready for other things—like another relationship, another boyfriend, another husband. Experimentally, I tugged at my diamond, but there was little give to it, the knuckle preventing the ring from sliding any further off my finger. No, not ready for taking my ring off then. But the memory of Gray’s mouth on mine and the dirty words he’d growled in my ear made me think I was ready for something. The press of his body against mine was like taking the first sip of hot coffee in the morning. It woke me up and I was hungry for more. I knocked my head against the register. “I’m no good at this. It’s just one of a million reasons why I shouldn’t have been kissing Gray.”
“No. No. It’s all good. Is that his name, Gray? I like it. It’s unusual.”
“It’s a color. Who names their kids colors?”
“Weird people. California people.” Eve’s boyfriend had arrived in the lounge and parked himself on a bar stool while I finished cashing out the drawer and she completed the bottle count.
“Opposites, then,” Eve cooed. She let go of my hand so she could pat her heart.
“Don’t go having us married in your imagination. I can’t even get my ring off, which means according to you that I’ll only attract the slimiest of slime.” The beautifully cut facets sparkled even in the crappy lighting of the bar as I waved my hand in front of her face. “This is Carolyn’s, you know.”
“Will gave you his mother’s ring?”
“Yes. But then David had to buy Carolyn a five-carat diamond to replace this one.” I pulled the diamond around to the inside of my hand. “It all worked out.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
Picking up the bills, I started counting again. “No. He was pretty angry. Besides, I could probably be used in an instructional video about how not to interact with males."
“Go up to him and explain.”
“Explain what?” Randy interjected.
“Sam made out with a guy tonight down by the storage closet and then he saw her ring and got mad. I told her she should go and explain that she’s not married anymore.”
For a moment I was irritated that Eve was sharing but what the heck, a male opinion might be worthwhile. “What do you think?” I asked him.
“I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable kissing a girl who’s got her wedding band on.” He popped more nuts in his mouth, swallowed them, and added, “But if you want to see him again then an explanation is worth a shot. Be real obvious about it. Guys are dense. Go up to him and say ‘Hey, boy, I want to do you tonight.’”
"Is that how you picked Randy up, Eve?" I teased.
"No way. He was even denser. I had to basically club him over the head and then drag him back to the car. Even then I had to climb onto him before he realized I was interested.”
"Hey, no," he protested. "I just wanted to be sure you were sure.”
"I couldn't have been a surer thing if you'd had paid for me." She shook her head in mock dismay. "But I took him against the car anyway."
"Against the car?" I was torn between being aghast and envious.
"If you haven't tried that position then I’m really sorry because up against the wall or door while he's between your knees, one leg slung over his shoulder is," she paused and shuddered, "un-friggin-believable.”
I stared at her and recalled the truncated promise Gray had given me. Just the memory made me shiver. "I believe you. I think I'm turned on just by hearing you describe it.”
"I know I am," said Randy.
"Can't wait for tonight, baby." She leaned over and cleaned his tonsils out. I watched them far too long to be polite. I realized then that I had been missing sex and more, real intimacy with another person. I missed what Eve had with her boyfriend, the right to have casual intimate contact. To hold hands with someone in public, to know that on all the important holidays someone was thinking of me. I’d missed it so much that I’d attacked a stranger in the hallway. Should I go after Gray and explain? Should I explore these feelings he’d roused? I thought I was immune to men and that my girl parts had shriveled because not one guy in the two years since Will died even warranted a second look let alone stirred sexual desire.
Eve must've seen my envious glance or felt my overlong stare because she broke it off and shooed her boyfriend away.
"It's been two years, why not give another guy a chance or at least just hook up? Get back in the game.”
I looked down at my left hand and the diamond winked backed at me. "I don't know how.”
“Go over to Adam’s house tomorrow. Maisey said he’s staying there for like six weeks. Or ask him over to your condo for coffee.”
“Coffee?”
“Or a movie.”
