She pulls a keycard out and slides it over to me. “Give me ten minutes. Room 3260. At the top of the hill.” She steps off the stool and with a wink, she saunters away. I watch her until she leaves the restaurant and try to catch my breath.
My pulse quickens the same way it does at the start of a difficult race. I know she’s not a thing to be won or a mountain to be conquered, but damn if I haven’t wanted to do both since the day she wrapped her arms around me and changed the course of my entire life.
When she got married, my hope of catching my Venus stopped being a deferred dream. At sixteen, on the cusp of manhood, I discarded it as the fruitless fantasy of a boy too young to know better.
Today, there’s too much between us for anything more than a tryst.
I live on a different continent.
She’s married.
She’s my best friend’s sister.
My brother is fighting like hell to rebuild our family’s tattered reputation and I promised to help him. Getting involved with the wife of a man he does business with would shatter that oath.
I signal the bartender and order two fingers of whiskey, throw it back and set my timer for ten minutes.
When the alarm trills, I settle my tab, drop some cash in the tip car, and make my way up the hill. I wave away the shuttle that slows to pick me up. I need the walk to clear my head. At this point in my life, the kind of trouble she spells is the very last thing I need.
I churn the same arguments while I make way to her room. Yet, I never consider turning back because for each argument, there is a single, compelling rebuttal that resounds until it becomes a refrain; The woman of my every dream just offered herself to me.
So, tonight, I’m finally going to have what I want, how I want. And I’m going to enjoy her very much.
I Want More
Regan
“If you didn’t know me, would you want to fuck me?” I prop my iPad against the bathroom mirror. I step away, place my hands on my hips, throw my shoulders back and wait for my friend Charlie to give his verdict.
His dark eyes bug out of his head. “If my wife walks in right now, which she might ’cause she gets twitchy when you call, she would flip out. Put some damn clothes on right now.” His volume progresses over the course of that sentence and by the time he’s done, he’s shouting. He winces. “Please?” he pleads in a hushed voice.
I open my mouth to argue. His wife’s jealousy is annoying as hell. But the last thing I want is to make it even more difficult for Charlie to be my friend. I position the camera so he can only see my face and flash him an apologetic grimace and perch on the edge of the claw footed tub. “Sorry, I’m just freaking out because I’m about to be naked in front of a man for the first time in five years and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
His expression darkens. “You’re letting Marcel back into your bed? I hope you’ve got extra strong condoms because there’s no--”
“It’s not Marcel, someone I met on vacation.” Normally, I’d let him pillory my husband for being a manwhore, but he’s the last person I want to talk about.
“Wow. Okay.” He lets out a low, long whistle of surprise that raises my hackles.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you judge me. You know I’ve never even considered anything like this.”
“Woah, you know I would never,” he admonishes me with a glare. “Look, I believe in the institution of marriage. But you and Marcel—what you have isn’t even close to that. I’m just praying this is your first step to finally leaving that son of a bitch.”
Relief and gratitude swell simultaneously. “I hope so, too. I can’t regret him because of my children, but I don’t want to live like this anymore,” I confess.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Excellent. It hurt like hell to lose you to him and I’ve been waiting for this day for more than ten years.”
Guilt that lives right below the surface simmers. “Charlie, I—”
“No, don’t apologize,” he snaps and then softens his rebuke with a tender smile. “I’ve got my girl and we’re happy. And you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had,