Page 2 of Crave Me
It was frigid outside, but I didn’t mind. I barely noticed. At events like this, memories of my dad were louder and more vivid than usual. He’d been a neurosurgeon and well-respected man in Grand Rapids. He was a man of honor, high intellect, and even greater compassion for his family, friends, and patients. It had taken a long time to recover from losing him, and I often found myself still asking the same questions I wished I had the guts to ask him then.
Was he proud of me?
Did it ever bother him I turned away from medical school to teach?
How in the hell did he ever find a woman like my mom to put up with his crazy antics and still love him after all these years?
Did women like her still exist?
I wanted one. Badly. There was a time several years ago, when I was confident I’d found her.
One night in bed gone wrong, one slap to my cheek, and several threats of being reported for sexual abuse later, I had lost her.
Other than the fact Cassie would never be the kind of woman I wanted in bed, I’d believed we were perfect for each other. Dozens of times over the last few years since we’d broken up, I’d wondered if I pushed her too hard, if I had introduced my kink to her too quickly. If I had taken it slower, would she have still rejected it—and me—so quickly and vehemently?
“Damn it,” I groaned, and shoved a hand through my hair. It was unruly on top and my finger snagged in the strap at the back of my mask. “Stop this,” I muttered to myself. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Cassie was a memory better left in the past.
In the three years since we’d broken up, I’d experienced what I’d always wanted. I’d found subs and I’d enjoyed myself plenty with them. Yet none of them ever spoke to my soul in any way to make me believe we’d share more than mutually pleasurable orgasms. I’d practically given up hope of finding anyone who could relate to me in the bedroom and out of it. And the night wasn’t the first time I’d considered calling it quits all together.
Find a nice girl. Settle down. Bottle up the part of me I could potentially, maybe, possibly live without. Have children and make it all work.
“God, it’s so depressing.” I had to get a grip and get back to the party before my mom came searching for me. I inhaled a deep breath of chilling air.
“Funny,” a woman said in a soft, feminine voice.
I jumped.
“I was thinking it was beautiful out here.”
In front of me, was a woman with beautiful curves. Black dress with a deep slit up her thigh. Sheer sleeves with a lace overlay, yet she wasn’t trembling from the cold. Blonde hair in direct contrast to her black dress curled perfectly, falling almost to her waist. Hips flared from a tiny waist. Her breasts almost pooled over the top of her dress in the most sexual, but still respectable, way possible. A long, thin neck and bright, shiny pink lips curved into the softest, gentlest and hell, gorgeous smile I’d ever seen.
The world tilted and shook me up. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry to interrupt.” She didn’t sound sorry. She took a step toward me, bringing her champagne glass to her lips. And hell, if I could tear my gaze off the way her lips curled around the thin edge of crystal. Or the way she swallowed so slowly, as if treasuring every bubbly taste. “It was getting warm inside and I needed some air. I can leave you alone if you’d like.”
“No.”
What? Alone was exactly where I should be. But there was something about this woman, her voice or her smile. It sparked a whisper of a memory I reached for and couldn’t grasp. “Do I know you?”
“No. Not really.”
“But we’ve met.”
One slim shoulder lifted and fell. “Perhaps.”
We had then. Irritated, I swallowed the rest of my champagne in one large, unclassy, gulp. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the beautiful view then.”
“But if you’re gone, then the view goes too.”
Holy shit. Who was this woman? And why was her forwardness doing the opposite of turning me off like it normally would? I was the chaser and pursuer. I went after what I wanted and usually got it. I liked women with timid smiles and nervous gestures like pushing hair behind their ears and hiding their blushing cheeks. I didn’t do brazen women who chased me like I was the mouse.
Hell if I didn’t find myself stepping closer to her, noticing the way her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath. “Who are you?”
She smelled delicious. A hint of cinnamon on her breath as her lips parted.
“And how do we know each other?”
“You don’t know me, not really, Simon.”
