The real me, I mean. Sometimes I don’t know who the fuck the real me is.
LadyV76: I know who I am. I just question it more than I should.
MyBoyBlue4: Meaning?
LadyV76: I’m ashamed to admit it. I feel like I should be past it by this point in my life. Still…some days, I’m certain I’m doing the right thing by being true to who I am and what I love. But others, I wonder if I’ll ever get where I want to go. And sometimes I wish I could change everything about myself.
MyBoyBlue4: I like who you are.
LadyV76: I like who you are too. Not a lot of guys are willing to submit themselves this way.
MyBoyBlue4: It’s fun. Glad I gave it a shot. So when can we chat next?
LadyV76: Work is going to be crazy for the next couple of days. Want to play it by ear?
MyBoyBlue4: Sounds great. In the meantime, why don’t you kick your coworker’s ass the way you’re kicking mine? He might like it.
LadyV76: Somehow I doubt that. Good night, Jon Snow.
MyBoyBlue4: Sweet dreams, Khalessi. I hope tomorrow gets better.
Chapter Seven
Emma
I don’t want to smile at Blue’s endearment. But I do.
As I close my laptop, a weird feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
I’m not tired. I feel equal parts full and empty. Nourished and starving.
Nourished: great wine, better orgasm, even better win over Samuel. I have a lot to celebrate.
Starving: I wish I had someone to celebrate with. Maybe the glaring dissonance between how full some parts of my life are, and how utterly empty the others can be, is what’s keeping me awake.
I have the acute, unshakeable sense that I’m missing something. Because for the first time in forever, I’m wishing the sex I just had with Blue was real.
I wish he was really here, body wrapped around mine as we had that conversation in person. I’ve never felt this way about someone I’ve chatted online with. I’ve never connected like that with any of the guys I’ve met virtually.
I’ve also never been told what makes me different is also what makes me awesome. A girl could get used to that kind of praise.
I startle at the distant sound of a splash, glancing over my shoulder at the windows beside the bed.
My stomach dips. I remember what Hank said about my cabin practically being in Samuel’s backyard. From what I understand, each of the five Beauregard siblings has their own private residence here on the mountain.
Does Samuel have a pool?
Is he in it?
And why does the starving side of me crave the answer to that question?
Darting into the bathroom, I grab one of the fluffy robes hanging on the chrome hooks beside the shower. I shove my feet into my fur-lined boots and duck outside. It’s even darker than before. The air is cold but my skin is hot, and it takes several beats for my mind to catch up to my body.
Am I really doing this?
I guess my chat with Blue has emboldened me. So I follow the sounds of splashes a little way up the hill. I dart through a thicket of pine trees, praying the predatory animals in the area are still hibernating.
A hulking building comes into view. It may be close to midnight, but the windows are lit up. The closer I get, the clearer I can make out just how massive the house is. It must be eight, hell, ten thousand square feet spread out over three floors. The roofline swoops elegantly into a stone terrace that I imagine has amazing views of the mountains beyond.
Below the terrace, there’s a pool set into the hillside. It’s also lit up with the kind of pool lights that change colors from green to pink to red to blue. I creep closer, hiding behind a tree twenty or so feet from the pool’s edge. Steam rises off the surface of the water.
It’s heated.
So is my blood when my eyes catch on the figure that suddenly pops up in the middle of the pool. His naked shoulders gleam, muscles rippling against the skin as he raises his arms to wipe the hair out of his eyes.
Those arms. They would make Wolverine weep. I swear to God the guy’s bicep is the size of my thigh.
Heart pumping inside my chest, I watch him sink back into the water up to his chin. He turns, allowing me a perfect view of his profile. Sharp nose, full lips, scruffy jawline.