satisfaction that after five years of loneliness, I may get my happily ever after. He’d plugged his number into my phone, setting the ring tone to that crazy song.
“Don’t give me an answer just yet, Addy. Only know that I’ll be back. Every time this song plays, it’s me, doing what I should have done five years ago. Crawling back to you.” He kissed me, and then . . . he left. With a promise to return soon, he left me . . . again, as I stood on my doorstep with swollen lips, a guilty conscience and a heart that felt like it had more cracks than I know what to do with, a scenario that felt entirely too familiar.
His wife’s name is Helen.
It was easier when I could call her the wife. Adding a name to the description makes her real and ruins my fantastical life, that no matter how hard I deny it, I still secretly dreamed would one day come true.
But then Damian knocked on my door, and the cracks in my heart eased, the guilt began to fade, and a faint feeling of hope began to bloom somewhere deep inside, as I moved Matt to the back of my mind and enjoyed the company of my new neighbor.
It was impossible not to notice the hint of sexual tension that rested between us. His dark olive skin had been flush with excitement at the completion of the Salmon Ladder. When he grabbed my hand, I didn’t want him to let go.
How was it possible that in the span of thirty minutes, my heart went from cold and angry, as I watched Matt walk away from me—bruising my heart again, to once more beating, like it was running the race of a lifetime?
The urge to run my fingers through his dark hair electrified my hands, having to practically sit on the damn things so I didn’t subconsciously inch them closer to his side of the couch. Nothing about that night felt right, until Damian walked into my apartment—suddenly everything fell into place.
Something about him makes me want to change the course of my life, because falling into Matt’s devilish hands is not going to work.
“I like the mug,” a deep but casual voice says to my right. I turn to see Damian, shirtless and deliciously yummy walk onto his balcony, a plain black coffee mug gripped in his strong right hand, a soccer ball tucked inside the curve of his arm.
“It’s one of my favorites.” This one happens to be shaped like a toilet bowl.
“No nudie girls today?” I ask, as I nod at his coffee cup.
An easy smile begins at the contours of his mouth as he places the ball on the ground. “Nah, thought I’d give you a break.”
I smile inwardly at his relaxed demeanor. I hadn’t seen him since he left my place Friday night, and he was quickly becoming my favorite morning routine.
Checking the clock on my phone, I realize there are only ten more minutes to enjoy the ocean view before I have to get going.
This morning, my eyes seem to wander to the view next door instead of the glistening blue sea. I can’t help but admire his powerful body standing at the edge of the balcony, focusing his gaze on the endless ocean. His large masculine hands cupped around that boring mug.
Leaning forward, he grabs a gray T-shirt off the table. Turning in my direction, he throws it over his head, covering himself.
“Whoa. Wait a minute.” I sit straight up. “You just blocked my morning view.”
His brow wrinkles in confusion.
“You have that V.”
He looks at me strange “V?”
“You know the V, the one that starts at your hips and goes . . . down?”
He blushes and easily laughs, the sound rippling through me and settling comfortably in my gut.
“When you have the ‘V’ you never cover the ‘V’. It’s like a rule.”
“What would you like me to do, Addison?” My name sliding out of his mouth in that deep sensual voice may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, causing my breath to momentarily catch, and my stomach to cinch tightly.
Wetting my lips with my tongue, I look into his eyes. “Take the shirt back off. What you’ve got going on there . . .” I point at his body, my finger moving furiously from head to toe, “should never be covered—if it can be helped.”
His eyes grow wide in amusement, and a smile that sends my pulse into rapid