I kissed her because I wanted to.
I kissed her because I needed to.
“And that’s our cue.” Clark pushed to his feet. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get our asses home. You ran off the two women who actually wanted to go home with us.”
“Because Fiona talks too much, and her voice is ridiculously high-pitched, and Wendy spits every time she speaks to me. I’m not going to fake it just to get laid.” Bridger pushed to his feet and slapped a few hundred-dollar bills down on the table.
“Well, I was fine faking it,” Clark said, clapping me on the shoulder before leaning down and kissing Lulu on the cheek as she pushed off my lap to stand.
Bridger shocked the shit out of me when he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m glad you dumped that jackass and scared him off before I had to put my fist in his face.”
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Bridger Chadwick,” Lulu said, as the corners of her lips turned up, and she pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“Don’t get used to it,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “See you, brother.”
“I like your family,” she said as she reached for her purse.
“They’re all right,” I smirked. “You ready to head home?”
She looked up and smiled. “I’m ready for round two, Rafael.”
I hurried her out the door before picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder as I started jogging toward Easton’s house.
“What the hell are you doing?” she squealed over her laughter as she smacked me on the ass.
“My woman wants round two, so who am I to deny her?”
Because I don’t think I could ever deny this woman anything she wanted.
twenty-four
. . .
Lulu
Round two had been justas good as round one.
And round three was even better.
This man had the stamina of a professional athlete and the erection of a porn star on Viagra.
But it was more than that.
A part of me wished this was just sex because it had been a long time since I’d enjoyed myself this way with a man.
But it was the conversation and the laughter.
The connection.
And now he was sitting on the floor in the bathroom while I was submerged in the deep soaker tub as we shared a glass of wine.
“Thanks for tonight,” I said, my voice quieter now as I handed him the glass back.
“That was all you. You were impressive as hell with the way you handled that guy,” he said, setting the glass down on the ledge beside the tub.
I never told anyone what happened the last time I saw Beckett. Not even Henley.
Sure, I was embarrassed that I allowed myself to be in a situation like that. And I didn’t press charges because I didn’t want my family pulled into it during an election year. And I hadn’t told my best friend because I knew she’d be devastated and want to talk about it, and I just didn’t want to do that.
