“You have spent the last twenty-five minutes trying I don’t know how many dresses, Nic,” Alex complains as he walks into my room, checking his wristwatch.
He’s wearing a white slim fit dress shirt though there’s nothing slim about his hot as hell body. I almost miss seeing him naked. Almost. His dark brown belt matches his shoes and his dark blue slacks fit him so perfectly that they give any woman’s libido a boost. It probably took this little bastard two minutes to decide what to wear and he looks like that.
Granted, he could wear an avocado printed fuchsia oversized shirt with and he’d still look hot.
I ignore his harmless huff and motion for him to zip up my dark blue cocktail skater dress.
He shakes his head with a smirk while zipping me up and then sits back on the edge of the bed behind me as I move closer to my full-length mirror.
Apart from the macrame wall hanging above my bed and the two lady palms that are getting too big for their tiny pots, this mirror is the only decorative piece on the wall. It’s like my personal moving photo that displays a slightly different scene every time you look at it.
I love it when it brings the cotton candy clouds into my bedroom in the morning and when the sun rays travel through my window creating my own private rainbow.
And I definitely miss how well it reflects the sweaty and breathy carnality that my queen mattress welcomes.
Or used to welcome. Ugh.
God, I’ve been lacking dick-induced orgasms for way too long. Way. Too. Long. I can only blame him for it because he has somehow telekinetically pussy blocked me. That’s right, his cock jinxed my mind and voodooed my body because I can’t even meet a guy without thinking about him.
Goddamn pussy blocking warlock.
Ugh. I hate him.
I roll my eyes and do my best to focus on deciding whether this is the dress I’ll wear or not. The dress’s off-the-shoulder neckline draws attention to my collarbone, which I do appreciate. I’d say it’s discreetly sensual or modestly frisky, given its high-low hemline that cascades from above the knee to the back of my lower leg.
I swirl in front of the mirror and smile as Alex steps closer to me and places his hands on my shoulders.
“You’re not trying any other dress. This is the one you’re wearing, Nic,” he kisses my forehead and sighs, clearly tired of waiting for me to get ready. “It’s just one dinner, relax.”
“I know it is. But it’s important to Emily. She’s meeting Liam’s parents this evening,” I redirect the conversation, pushing it away from where Alex’s words are heading.
“And are you okay with seeing Ryan again?”
I guess I didn’t redirect shit. Damn it.
Alex sits back on the edge of the bed again and squints at me, as if prepared to examine my answer.
Ugh. I liked him better when we fucked more and talked less.
“Have we not had this conversation already? Jeez, Alex! I’m fine!” Peachy, right?
“So this dry spell you’ve been bitching about for months has nothing to do with him?”
“Stop asking questions you already know the answer to, Alex. You’re starting to sound like me and it’s pissing me off.”
“I’m just checking, Nic.”
“What can you possibly be checking that you haven’t checked already? Seriously. Ryan and I were a temporary series of one-night stands seven months ago. Then he left. And, as the saying goes, thank you, next,” I wink at Alex, hoping he doesn’t mention what I’ve been trying to forget for the past four months. I turn to the mirror again, searching for the smile I’ll have throughout the evening. It’s there somewhere between my eyes and my heart.
It’s not like I’m lying to myself, I’m really not. Because it was just a series of orgasmic one-night stands. It was just that. Right? Right.
So if anybody asks, I was the ideal rebound for a broken hearted guy who wanted to get back at his cheating ex-fiancée. That’s all I ever wanted from the get-go.
And I’ve always been a woman who knows what she wants. Like comfortable shoes, a silent vacuum cleaner and singlehood.
Most importantly, I’ve always been a woman who knows what she doesn’t want. Like pineapple on pizza or work on Sundays or a relationship.
So what I wanted, right from the beginning, was a sexy hook up.
Little did I know that my certainties about what is wanted and what is dispensable would start to crumble the moment I first bumped into him in front of Sakura, the Japanese restaurant in town.
I was supposed to be discussing a marketing campaign while eating sushi. Instead, I was staring at my phone, mentally cursing my clients for cancelling our business dinner.
Walking out of the restaurant, with an empty angry stomach, my shoulder brushed his arm as he was walking in.
“Hi. Nicole, right?” His husky voice was adorned with a panty-dropping smile and he smelled of fresh lime, soft musk and hot confidence.
Holy Freaking Saint Fellatio.
‘Those lips and that tongue will do wonders on me. And around me. And all over me,’ I thought. Head to toe, he ticked all my boxes right then and there. Not to mention my freaking g-spot. He definitely ticked that.
“Oh-hi! You’re one of the tenants at the Pascoal Villa, erm–” I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember his name.
“Ryan,” he said with a smirk and I wished that tongue would put his name on my lips.
“So, what brings you here?”
“I’m just walking around town. I haven’t been here since I was a teenager so I’m seeing new things,” his hazel eyes were a sweet cocktail that I could drink all day and never get a hangover. They were on me and I savored the inebriant green, gold and brown combination.
“Like what you see?” I wanted my voice to be as soft as the fabric of his shirt and my intentions to be as clear as the biceps bulging underneath the sleeves.
“Absolutely,” he answered calmly.
And except for a swift twitch of the right corner of his mouth, not one muscle in his body moved.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?” He asked after what I believed was a mental weighing of pros and cons.
I nodded my answer and he motioned for me to walk back into the restaurant.
By the time we got to dessert, my skin was yelling to have him. He was teasing me like I had never been teased before.
His hazel eyes studied me with lust, that much I could see. On the other hand, the physical distance that he kept intrigued me. Why hadn’t he so much as leaned forward to get closer when he was clearly eye-fucking me?
I got home that evening with my body reeking of frustration and my mind reeling in wonder.
I didn’t know it then but that was the day curiosity gathered the weapons to kill the pussy. Ruining it for any other man I’d ever meet after he left.
“Can we have password?” I ask Alex while we’re on the way to the Pascoal Villa.
“What the hell for?”
“You know, if one of us feels like leaving,” …meaning ‘if I want to leave’… “we can have some sort of an escape code,” I can already see Alex’s smirk growing on his face. “Do not make fun of me, Alex!”
“I can’t help it, Nic. Listen to yourself. You want a safe word to stop...having dinner?”
I can’t believe he’s laughing at me.
“You have no idea how I regret every single blowjob I’ve ever given you right now!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I enjoyed every single one of them.”
“Well, hold on to that memory because you won’t get more of those from me!”
“We’ve established many months ago that the benefits of our friendship no longer include that,” he chuckles. “So. what’s the word?” He swallows another chuckle and I don’t even want to talk to him anymore.
“That does not constitute a word, Nicole.”
“Chamomile.” I pout.
“Okay,” he says before stopping at a red light and we watch the other cars move from one side to the other. “You know you don’t need a word, Nicole,” he says as he extends his hand to mine and I hold it tightly.