Tonight.
The trouble was, I knew that one taste would never be enough.
One taste of Nick would be like my trying to eat just one Kettle brand Country Style Barbeque potato chip. No way in hell. I eat one of those things and I need that whole damn bag of chips so just GIVE IT TO ME NOW BEFORE SOMEONE GETS HURT.
Sighing, I tore my eyes off his body and took a few slow breaths, trying to calm down.
Damn, I wanted him again. Badly.
But he didn’t need to know that.
If we broke a rule, we broke a rule, but I wanted it to be Nick that initiated it. I wanted it clear that it was Nick who couldn’t resist me; it was Nick who wanted it more. Since he was the one who’d left, my pride demanded it.
And just to be clear, the only rule I was willing to break was the last one. I still didn’t want to hear his reasons for leaving me, and I definitely wasn’t viewing this as a second chance. Just a good time with a hot guy who made me laugh and happened to give me the best orgasms of my entire life. Plus he said he’d cook for me.
I nearly came just thinking about it.
#
I had to go home and pack a bag, so we agreed to meet at Nick’s apartment downtown. When I pulled out my phone to put his address into Google Maps, I noticed I had missed a call from Erin. She’d texted me too.
I don’t think I can meet you tonight, I’m dirty.
Smiling, I texted her back. Really? You bad girl. Go get some.
“Get a text from your boyfriend?” Nick asked. He’d walked me to my car and stood leaning against it, arms folded.
“No. Just my friend Erin. She was going to meet me tonight but couldn’t and Auto Correct turned her ‘I’m sorry’ into ‘I’m dirty.’”
Nick smiled. “Have I met her?”
“No. She and Mia grew up together, but she’s a year younger than we are and didn’t go to State, so even I didn’t meet her until after college. But the three of us are really close. She’s smart and sweet and kind of proper, but Auto Correct is always turning her texts into smutty thoughts.”
“Nothing wrong with smutty thoughts.”
I looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Ahem. Address please.”
He gave it to me and I typed it in before unlocking the car door. When he pulled it open, I hesitated a moment before getting into the car, half hoping he’d hug me, or even just peck me on the cheek. When he didn’t, I tried not to let my disappointment show. “Well, thanks for dinner,” I said brightly, sliding into the driver’s seat. “And for walking me out.”
“You’re welcome. Sure you’re OK to drive?”
“Yes.” My earlier buzz had gone away
completely, which made the urge to kiss him a bit more unnerving. I pulled the door shut, started the car, and lowered the window. “I’ll be there in an hour or so. Just have to pack a bag and tell my parents what I’m doing.” Embarrassed, I explained, “I’ve been staying with them to save money.”
He grinned. “Ooooh. Are they going to let you sleep over at a boy’s house? Better not tell them it’s me.”
“Very funny.” I started to put the window up.
“Hey,” he said, knocking on the glass.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I peered up at him. “If I did, I wouldn’t be spending the weekend with you. I’m faithful like that.”
His face contorted. “Ouch. You said no talking about the past.”
“OK, fine. What about you? Girlfriend?”
“Several. Did I forget to mention they’d be joining us?”
Scowling, I put the car in reverse and pulled out, but I could still see him laughing at me in the rearview mirror as I drove away.
Nick actually had a point about my parents.
They weren’t huge fans of his, and it wasn’t because he didn’t have money, like he’d always thought. They liked him fine back then; they just weren’t overly excitable or affectionate people. But that was B.V. Since they knew about the whole marriage and morning- after episode, I was glad when I got home that they appeared to have gone out for the evening. I didn’t really want to explain what I was doing spending the weekend with the guy who broke my heart—not that I really knew what I was doing—so I figured I’d just leave a note, make something up. That was much better for me than having to lie to their faces about it.
Upstairs, my grandmother’s bedroom door was closed, and I tiptoed past it down the hall to my bedroom over the garage. From beneath my bed, I pulled a small vintage suitcase that Mia had found at a flea market for me. It was yellow with three brown stripes, rectangular and hard shelled, the kind people used to cover with travel stickers. This one had only two—one for the Cunard line, and one that said Hotel Pierre, Paris.
Into the case I put two sundresses, a romper, my bathing suit, pajamas that were comfortable and pretty but not too sexy, and a pair of flats. I packed running shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top as well as my running shoes, remembering how nice it was to run on the dirt roads around the farm. Last, I packed some undergarments, carefully choosing pretty, feminine things that were girlish and even a little modest. No thong underwear or crotchless panties or anything that said Obvious. And anyway, I preferred retro-inspired boy shorts and matching bras, which provided good coverage and support where I needed it and complemented my curvy shape. If there was satin and lace and a sheer panel here and there, well, so be it. I wanted to be prepared to break the no-sex rule without looking like I’d planned on it.