No Commitment (Capital Kingsmen #1) - Lisa Suzanne Page 0,45

sentence before I have a chance to debate whether telling him is a good idea or not. “I actually have another trip planned to see my parents again in a couple weeks. This one’s been in the works for months.” I leave out that little detail that the trip was planned so I could spend a week at the beach building sandcastles with my one-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

“So the last one was more...spontaneous, then?”

I clear my throat as I feel caught. “I guess you could say that.” I realize I’m being a little secretive, but I have no other choice.

“Why’d you come to California, Dani?” His voice is low, and it sends shivers down my spine.

Because I wanted to see you.

Because I’m lonely at home.

Because I hate where I’ve ended up.

Because I’m not happy and I think you could fix that.

Because you deserve the truth.

“Because I missed my parents.”

“Liar.”

I rock a little nervously in my chair. “Because I missed the beach.”

He chuckles. “Sure.”

“Because I missed you. Is that what you want me to say?”

“If it’s the truth, then yeah, that’s what I want you to say.”

I rock a little harder in the chair, and it creaks again. I stand and start pacing. “I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

“Why not?” he asks, his voice husky.

“You know why not.”

“Why did you marry him, Dani?”

I freeze in my tracks where I pace. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he wants to know details about my life now, but I don’t know how to answer without either dodging the truth or telling more lies. I guess that’s the benefit of having texting conversations over phone calls—the easier ability to redirect the conversation without feeling put on the spot. I settle on a non-answer. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s life,” he mutters. “Complicated.”

“Yeah.” A beat of awkward quiet passes between us, and then he breaks it.

“You know what I’d do if you weren’t married?” he asks, a hint of a rasp in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“What?” I whisper. I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t know. I shouldn’t want to hear it as badly as I do.

“I would’ve kissed you the second I saw you at that coffee shop, and then I would’ve taken you outside and fucked you in the back of your car in the parking lot,” he says, and I gasp at his beautiful, vulgar words as my entire body warms. My knees start to give out and I catch myself on the edge of the couch as he continues. “And if that didn’t happen, then I would’ve fucked you on my patio where we sat and talked, and if you wanted privacy, I would’ve taken you up to my bed and fucked you in a place where I’ve spent countless hours dreaming of fucking you.”

“Oh,” I say dumbly, but it’s about the only word I can form. The ache that has pressed between my thighs since...well, probably since the last time I was physically with him intensifies to a nearly unbearable level.

“And after we got it out of our systems, after I fucked you so hard you couldn’t even sit without thinking of me, then I would’ve given it to you slow.”

He stops there, and it feels sort of like we were having sex and he just stopped when I was seconds away from climaxing.

“How?” I ask. My voice is hoarse and throaty.

“Are you alone?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“What are you wearing?”

I glance down at my mom jeans and t-shirt that has a little bit of the pear Luna threw at me at dinner. There’s a milk stain, too, and I probably smell like spoiled milk because of it. “What do you want me to be wearing?” I ask instead of admitting the truth.

“Naked would be my first choice.”

I chuckle softly. “I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Unbutton your jeans,” he says.

I pause for a beat.

Is he...is he taking me into phone sex territory?

We’ve done this before. It was when he was on tour, when we were committed but not, and it wasn’t actually a phone call. It was a video call, but we only showed our faces. He watched the pleasure on my face as he directed my movements, and I watched as he slowly jerked himself off in his bunk on his tour bus while he told me what to do to myself.

It was one of the hottest orgasms I’ve ever had.

My husband should be the one giving me orgasms...but he’s at work. I’m torn as to whether this is really wrong. It is, I know