But I can’t be what she needs. Not with my history. Not when I’ve never even dated the same woman long enough to meet her parents. She deserves better than me. Better than her husband. Better than the shit hand life’s thrown her way.
I steady my breath. “Let me be clear, Jenna. You’re not some challenge to conquer. And you’re so much more than a beautiful body. You’re fucking incredible. Your heart, your mind, your soul. Exactly as you are.” I pause, letting it sink in. “And for whatever reason, I talk to you more than anyone in my life. So no, I don’t want to hurt you. We can be friends. Let me prove that.”
“God, the things you do to me,” she whispers. “Am I an idiot? I believe you. I believe every word you say. You make me feel things I can’t explain. But how can you possibly prove we can be just friends?”
I smile like a damn fool. She feels it too. No matter how hard we try to fight this… our connection keeps winning.It’s like I’m seventeen again, desperate to impress the prettiest girl in school. Except this one’s married. And I’m not some kid anymore.
“Jenna…” My voice catches. “I know I’ve been sending mixed signals. But my signals are as fucked up as my past. Some days I want to walk away. Do the right thing. Other days, I just want to forget everything—forget who I was and just spend time with you.”
But not if her life goes up in flames and I’m the one holding the fucking match. Not when I have no idea if I’m even capable of being in a committed relationship.
“I know this is complicated but—”
“Complicated?” she cuts in, bitter. “It’s impossible. It’s wrong. I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. You’re not my husband.”
The words hit hard. Because she’s right.
“No, I’m not,” I mutter. “But can you seriously look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay walking away from this? From us. Whatever the hell this is?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Because I’m not,” I say, my voice steady. “Yesterday, yeah, I was imagining being deep inside you. No strings. But today…” I breathe out slowly. “I just want more time with you. Even if it’s wrong. Even if it makes no damn sense.”
I pause, searching for more words. “So, here we are.”
“So, here we are,” she repeats, her breath heavy. “This is so messy. I hate how much I want you. But I don’t know how tostop. Fuck, I don’t even know if I want to or how to deny this pull I have towards you.”
Something in my chest twists.
“And meeting someone who feelsthisright? Like cosmic-level right? That doesn’t happen in real life.” She lets out a soft laugh that wrecks my heart. “You’re a freaking unicorn, Dylan.”
She swallows hard, her voice aching. “Tell me how to stop wanting you.”
Fuck.
I don’t want her to stop. I don't want to hurt her either or be the reason her life falls apart. And I don’t want to ruin her family. But I don’t know how to stop wanting her.
I try to lighten the moment and shove the ache away with a light joke. “Wait—can I be a dragon or a cobra instead?”
“Don’t.” Her voice wavers. “Don’t be cute right now. None of this makes it right. You’ve got me questioning everything—my marriage, my choices… my whole damn life.”
Emotions bleed through her words. “How do I justify that? How dowejustify this?”
I get it. I feel it too. The tug of war between right and wrong. Caught between the addiction to her and the voice screaming at me to run the fuck away.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I know it’s selfish, and this is probably unfair of me to ask. But when I’m with you, the world just feels… right. You feel right. So, don’t stop this,” I exhale. “Meet me. No complications. No guilt. No over-analyzing. Just two people who like being near each other.”
Silence.
My stomach twists. I know I don’t do relationships. But I can’t let her go.
Finally, she breathes, “Okay.”
Raw nervous energy runs through me. “Bring your appetite. See you in an hour.”
I hang up before she changes her mind and shoot over details. Excitement hums through me as I head to the store, like it’s my damn birthday. I toss a few things into my basket, but doubt creeps in as I head to checkout. By the time I get back to my motorcycle and pack everything into the saddlebags, I’m rethinking my plan, and texting her.
Me:Are you sure you want to meet?
