my hand drifted down to my morning wood. Regardless of how gross I was after my night out, it felt good to touch myself without worrying about Giuliana’s sixth sense interrupting any fantasies I’d had. Or berating myself for having fantasies at all when I had a tiny baby to care for. I must have had some crazy dreams last night, though, because my cock was hard as steel in my hand.
There had been a lot of good-looking guys at the bar. At least, I thought there had been. The few things I could remember felt like unfinished clips of a film reel. My memory began to piece together the night as I stroked myself slowly, enjoying not having to rush.
Mason had tried pointing out potential hookups, which had led to an impromptu drinking game. Every time he picked someone I’d actually consider sleeping with—if I was going to do that, at least—I’d have to drink. When he got it wrong, he drank.
Christian, my best friend since college, had been with us also, ostensibly to offer support as a wingman. Christian had been there when I’d married Kyle, when we’d promised to have and to hold no matter the obstacles. Unless, apparently, the obstacle was a baby we had both wanted. Then Kyle had been off like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
Of course, I’d been excited just to spend time with Christian. After Kyle left and Giuliana came, I hadn’t had much time for friends. Soon enough Christian got in on the game, and Christian and Mason focused on picking out guys who looked like Kyle’s opposite.
The memories were coming back faster and faster now, without my having to try as hard to remember.
I remembered that it had led to Christian pointing a finger at a tattooed man at the bar, leaning in that perfect way and watching the dancers with hooded eyes.
It had been Javi. My cock twitched in my hand, my climax looming. What had Javi been doing there? As I stroked the thick shaft in my hand, I remembered wondering if Javi was truly at the bar or a figment of my imagination. He’d been looking at me when Christian had pointed him out. When our eyes had locked, the gin had carefully tucked common sense away and pulled out an insane need to talk to him.
I slowed my attention to myself, thumb sliding across the slit at the head of my cock, spreading precum. Heat burned in my belly, a swampy mix of desire and shame. I’d been avoiding Javi. I knew I’d pissed him off when I’d said he didn’t have to work with me. But instead of apologizing, I’d used it as an excuse to avoid him. Being around him muddled my thoughts and made it so fucking hard to remember my goals.
But Christian and Mason had seen my interest and prodded me to go talk to him. And I’d done it, hadn’t I? Javi had looked away like a rabbit considering escape as I’d made my way to him. But I hadn’t wanted him to flee. I didn’t want him to hate me. The gin, in fact, had made me really, really want him to like me.
My hand moved faster despite myself as my memory became sharp again. Javi’s incredible tattoos, gorgeous and rich, covering him like stars in the sky. A constellation of ink that deserved to be studied up close. I’d apologized and Javi hadn’t run, he’d stayed there, not moving when I’d edged closer to him, unable to help myself. I’d apologized and then—
Fuck.
Any hope I’d had for coming dissipated as the rest of the night clicked into place in my mind. I hadn’t just said I was sorry. I’d told Javi I thought he was too sexy to work with, and then had practically fallen over my two feet. He’d grabbed me, and his hands had felt so good, lighting my body up in ways it hadn’t in too long. I’d gone to kiss him, and now the sour taste in my mouth made sense.
I’d vomited on him.
Moaning, I rolled onto my stomach and pulled a pillow over my head. I’d puked on my hot neighbor, the one I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to. The one I was supposed to work with. The one I definitely wasn’t supposed to want to kiss, gin-infused or not.
The memory served as a cold, hard reminder that I wasn’t in a place to be dating. Giuliana didn’t deserve two absent parents,