“I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep well at all the past few days.”
He moves his hand up to cup my breast, flicking his finger over my nipple. I’m really not in the mood for sex, but I feel like in a way it will cleanse me of what I did with Storm.
He kicks off his pajama bottoms and then pulls off my panties, rolling on top of me in a swift motion. Michael is a hard kisser and the concept of foreplay went out the window about eleven years ago. Within seconds, he is forcing his way into me. The pain causes me to bite my lip so I don’t cry out. I don’t want him to mistake it for a pleasure moan. I put my arms around his back as he moves in and out of me and try to move with him. I can never have an orgasm during sex. I was starting to worry something was wrong with me, like maybe my clit was broke or something, so I actually brought it up to my ob-gyn last year. Thankfully, she is really sweet and easy to talk to so it wasn’t as embarrassing as it sounds. She assured me my parts were all in working order and the issue could just be that since Michael and I were both virgins when we started to have sex, we just never experimented enough or evolved sexually together, so to speak. In other words, we are just sexually boring.
Maybe that’s why I was so easily turned on by Storm. He’s just a shiny new object who knew how to press the right button.
Michael grunts and collapses on top of me. “I missed you,” he says, kissing my neck.
“I can’t breathe.”
I inwardly cringe at my own non-romantic comment, but in my defense, he was crushing me lying on top of me like dead weight.
He rolls over to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, babe. I’ll be around in the morning. I’m going into the office late.”
“Okay. I love you.”
I listen for him to say it back, but he’s already snoring.
Chapter Eight
“Holy shit. Evelyn, wake up.” Michael is pushing my shoulder. I groan into my pillow and hide my face. All I want to do is sleep late in my own bed. He shakes me again. “Were you in the truck with Storm Valentine?”
I pick my head up and yawn. “Yeah... he just said Storm, though. He never told me his last name.” What a cool name. Storm Valentine. It sounds like a name in a romance novel.
“Evelyn, do you know who that is?” Mike asks me, raising his eyebrows at me in excitement.
“Um, no. Just some random asshole in the woods.”
“Look, he’s on the news right now. Talking about you.”
I sit straight up and stare at the television. “What? Who is he?”
“He’s the lead guitarist of Ashes and Embers. They’re a kick-ass rock band and they all grew up around here. How did you not know who he was?”
I shake my head, completely dazed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I even know their music. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t tell me he was in some famous band. He told me he was a bike mechanic.”