taste it.
“Are you sure he knows that? He’s sure not looking he does,” Matty teases in an amused, sing-song voice.
“It doesn’t matter. I know.” I skewer her with a challenging glare.
She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Oh, come on. It’s at least a little flattering that he’s looking at you like he wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of here.”
“Not at all,” I say and Matty gives me a knowing side eye, but doesn’t say more.
She knows I’m lying. How could I not be flattered? I’ve felt his eyes on me since we walked in. Once I met his gaze, thinking he’d look away when I did, but he just smiled.
I haven’t looked again. I don’t want to encourage him to come over and start talking.
Between spending time with Matty and running into Stone, it’s like my past is trying to make itself relevant again. That is the very last thing I need.
My present is enough to deal with.
I’ve been beside myself with mortification. But when a memory of the night before randomly intrudes into my thoughts, it leaves me hot, panting, and wet.
My body is still on fire from what he did to me with his mouth and his gloriously thick dick. God, whoever said size didn’t matter had never come across one like Stone’s. I’ve seen dildos less perfect.
Since he left my room, I’ve been swinging on a pendulum of indecision. I spent half the day thinking about how to make sure we don’t find ourselves alone again. The other half was spent hatching frantic schemes to ensure we did.
Which is crazy. Last night shouldn’t have happened.
It was so wrong. But I’m very attracted to him.
If I’m honest, my body isn’t the only part of me that’s responding to him.
There was something about the little boy who I found hiding in the back room of the bakery that summer. He was so sad and so brave. And the harrowing experience we shared the last time he came to the bakery re-shaped the trajectory of my life.
Last night, when he looked me in the eye and said, “See you tomorrow,” I saw it. The determination that filled the glittering depths of his eyes was the very same I saw in his expression right before he stabbed Weston in the back.
But, that’s the only thing about him that’s the same.
In every way, he’s a new person.
“Well at least you won’t be all alone when I leave tomorrow.”
I turn to her, my expression pleading. “Can’t you stay a few more days?”
She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I gotta be at work on Tuesday. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to keep you company,” She tips her head to the side where I know he’s sitting.
“I’ll be fine. I brought a book.”
She laughs. “You know what? He looks like the guy from A Fault in our Stars, but ten years older because of the facial hair.”
“He doesn’t look anything like that kid. He looks like… James Norton.”
“Who?”
“The hot priest in Grantchester,” I explain, knowing that she’ll get it then.
“Oh my God, you’re right. I was gonna say no because Grantchester is blonder and not as bootylicious, but yes…I see it and definitely that mouth….”
“Ugh, stop drooling over him,” I elbow her.
“Why? You said you’re done with him, right? Why do I have to play nice just because you can’t? And if he’s into older women--"
“Shut up, okay? I’m not that much older than him.” The words ring true. Eight years might have been a big deal back then, but now, there’s nothing to indicate the difference between his age and mine is anything but a number.
The way he touched me wasn’t the way a man without experience would. He can’t be older than 28 or 29. But from the way he looks and how sexually relaxed he seems to be, he’s more experienced than I am.
I didn’t know sex could be like that. I wish I could enjoy just one more night. But I’ve played with fire. So far, I’ve gotten away unscathed. I shouldn’t take any more chances. This can’t be a simple affair we just walked away from when we were done.
He’s Tyson’s friend and his brother, Hayes Rivers, is a friend and business partner of Marcel and Remi’s. Hayes is getting married soon and Marcel is flying from Paris so we can go together. What will happen when I see him there? Just picturing it makes my stomach queasy.
“Oh shit, he’s coming