Page 40 of Room for Us
“We’d love to,” replies Ethan, smiling broadly at me, like five minutes ago his dick wasn’t poking my ass and ripping my life apart.
“Excellent.” Zander tromps past me, his varsity jacket grazing my arm as his elbow jabs my side. “See you tomorrow at six.”
He closes the door behind him.
In the sudden silence, Ethan and I stare at each other. He still wears the shadow of a smile, but his eyes—for all their lightness—are dark.
“We should talk.”
His voice drips like candle wax. The edible kind. It slides between my breasts and pools between my legs.
“Nope,” I chirp, my voice too high. “We’re good. Huge mistake. I’m really sorry about the journal. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Yikes. Lesson learned.”
“You babble when you’re nervous.”
“Who’s babbling? Not me.” I scurry past him, giving him a wide berth. “Your sheets are probably dry, so—”
“Zoey.”
I glance back, still moving. “Yep?”
Frowning, he shakes his head slightly. “Nothing.”
24
She avoids me most of the next day. Hard to do when we’re essentially living together, but she manages it all the same. I don’t hunt for her. Like any good predator whose trap is laid, I wait for my prey.
Dinner last night was excellent, if lonely. I texted with Janice a bit, confirming that Daphne is fine. A slight headache but no dizziness. A nagging part of me wanted to share the news with Zoey—I don’t know why—but I held my tongue.
She barely looked at me, barely spoke as she served my meal. But all was not lost. When her eyes did meet mine—three times to be exact—I saw everything I needed in them.
She wants me as badly as I want her.
By mid-afternoon, I’m so amped up, my will so weak, that I go for another run simply to occupy myself. Only six miles this time, because I’m sore from yesterday. As my feet pound on the pavement, she rides my thoughts like I want her to ride me.
Though it’s a bit embarrassing to admit—even to myself—I’ve never really worked for a woman before. At least not for sex. Relationships, marriage, all that nuclear family shit, isn’t for me. At the urging of Janice and with my daughter in mind, I really tried with Britt. And we all know how that turned out.
I’m better—everyone is better—if I’m alone.
Is that what Zoey wants? Something permanent? I discard the question as already answered, recalling when she said she’s going through a divorce. Whoever he is, he’s an idiot and she’s clearly too good for him. She’s too good for me, too, but I’m not above taking advantage of the situation.
She can’t possible want to jump into another serious relationship. She’s too smart, too self-aware for that. Whatever’s holding her back, I’m going to find it and make it go away.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m already inside her.
My only fear?
She’s already inside me.
I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to dinner at Zoey’s mom’s house. Actually, I do. I wasn’t thinking. Or I was only thinking about the sweet curve of Zoey’s ass and how she moaned when I bit her neck.
God, she tasted good.
“Ready?”
My cock leaps at her voice. I look up from the paperback page I’ve read twenty times as I waited in the living room for her to collect me.
She’s wearing a dress. Casual and misty blue, with short sleeves and a flirty hem that shows off her toned legs. Her hair riots around her shoulders, a mess of golden brown curls, and her brown eyes are a touch too wide as she takes me in. For the first time ever, she wears a little makeup. Nothing intense, just mascara and lip gloss. She’s beautiful. No—she’s extraordinary.
