“That’s why I couldn’t cum on you,” he whispered in my ear. “Because I needed to do this.”
I had no words. Happily, none was required.
Slowly, deliberately, he made love to me. Crammed into the passenger side of a test vehicle which now definitively must be mine. Of all the places to have a meaningful moment. He rocked in and out of me, taking his time, building the passion between us. Our connection was absolute and always would be. No matter where he went. No matter what he did. I’d lost a part of myself to him that I’d never get back. Hell, I gave it, even knowing it wasn’t smart and I might regret it one day soon.
Hearts are so stupid.
Gradually he increased his pace. My legs were wrapped around him, holding on tight. Sweat soaked both our skins. We moved as best we could, reaching for the peak, clinging together. It went on and on, and yet was over all too soon. I angled my hips up, taking him deep. He plowed into me with great purpose. One hand tangled in my hair and the other taking some of his weight. The sound of our frantic breathing, of our bodies slamming together filled the small space.
And still it surprised me. My orgasm ripped out my lungs. I silently cried out, my cunt clutching at him as my heart skipped a beat. My whole body shook beneath him as he groaned my name, pressing his cheek bruisingly hard against mine. Apparently, the French refer to an orgasm as the little death. However, that didn’t cover it. Try the mass murder of all of my hopes and dreams. It shouldn’t have felt so astonishingly mind-numbingly superb to fall for a man who’d never be mine. But it did.
Love sucks.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Strange things were afoot at the Dive Bar the next day. Saturday, the anniversary of my botched wedding. Hooray.
Nothing of any great interest had happened after our sexcapades in my new car. We went back to see Mitch at the dealership, who gave our skewed clothing dubious looks. He visibly relaxed after I told him I’d be buying the vehicle. Vaughan had gone quiet, but then so had I.
We went to work. And when we got back to his house exhausted after a long night, we went to sleep, together in the same bed.
But back to today.
Brett Chen, the reporter, lounged against his car parked opposite my place of work. He pulled out his Canon and started snapping photos of Vaughan and me as we were walking inside.
“Talk to me, Lydia,” he yelled from across the street. “I’ve got a big-name magazine taking the story. Nationwide distribution. A lot of money.”
“Asshole,” I muttered, keeping my sunglasses on and my face down.
“Time to give Officer Andy a call,” said Vaughan. “Get rid of this guy.”
“I’m not sure legally there’s much he can do. Anyway, the reporter’s not going to get what he wants,” I said without slowing down. “Let karma take care of him for profiting from people’s heartbreak and misery. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“This is the third time he’s been here in almost as many days. Taking your picture without your permission. The idiot’s practically stalking you, babe.”
I shrugged, reached out and gave his fingers a squeeze. We stepped into the bar and I headed straight for a small table at the back. Poor Betsy, the Delaneys’ real estate receptionist, did not look like a happy girl. Boo-hoo.
“I’ve been waiting for you for nearly twenty minutes.” She sniffed, pushing back a half-drunk cup of coffee and rising out of her seat. “The brew here is godawful. Are the papers all correctly signed? I don’t want to have to come down here again just because you can’t read.”
God, what a bitch. The papers were signed, all right, but she could figure that out for herself.
In lieu of conversation, I tossed the large envelope containing the Delaneys’ settlement contract her way. Betsy dived for it. making a weird gasping noise. Indignation burned bright in her beady little eyes. Before she could rip into me for lack of care or whatever, I got the hell away from her. I had things to do. It was time to make over my life. Minus the bullshit this time.
Saturday was a big day. At only twenty past twelve, most of the tables were already filled. I called out greetings to Rosie and Masa on the restaurant floor, Eric behind the bar, and Nell and Boyd busy at work in the kitchen. Then I continued on my way to the back office.
The big blond bear, aka Joe, sat in front of the computer, engrossed in whatever was on the screen.
“Hi,” I said, dumping my handbag in the corner. “Nell wanted me to start on the bookkeeping.”
Startled eyes glanced up at me and his fingers froze on the keys. “Ah, hey, Lydia.”
“Are you working today too?” Three people behind the bar seemed excessive but whatever.
“No,” he said. “I just needed to use the computer. Mine’s acting up. Be out of here in a minute.”
“No problem. I’ll go grab a cup of coffee.”