At night, I dreamt about his strong, muscular body, and what it would be like to have him wrapped around me. I imagined him pinning me to the wall of the barn, or throwing me onto the hay in the loft, and having his manly way with me.
My first orgasm was while I was spying on him. Believe me when I say it came as a shock. I was seventeen. I still think that was kind of late for a first orgasm, but I don’t know. I was sitting on my bed, peering out the window at him as he hosed himself down, and my hand naturally went inside my panties. I’d touched myself before, but never to the point of climax. I didn’t even know it was possible. I wet my fingers and began stroking my clit delicately. I imagined it was Grant touching me, on our wedding night, so fired up with desire for me that he was ready to burst. I was so naive back then. I thought it had to be our wedding night.
I guess I always wanted Grant to be my first. My first crush. My first kiss. My first love. My first everything.
After all, even though he didn’t know it, he was my first orgasm. I could clearly see his face, the brooding depth of his dark, brown eyes, as that first orgasm rushed through my body. The pleasure of it surged through me like a flash flood. To this day, I still picture him showering with the hose when I orgasm. No matter who I’m with.
But nothing ever happened between us.
There was sexual tension, sure. There was more chemistry than in a scientist’s laboratory. I was crazy about him, and I’m sure he had a thing for me too. We saw each other all the time. We even went out of our way to spend more time together. But it was always in the teasing, playful way that family members spend time together. It was flirtatious, fun, happy, but never anything more.
He had too much respect for my father. He didn’t dare lay a finger on me, much to my frustration, and by the time my father passed away, it was too late.
By that time, we knew each other too well.
We were like family. Hell, we were family. We’d done each other’s laundry. We’d fought over the last slice of pie at the dinner table. We’d shared my father’s pickup truck on weekends, him to go down to the Rusty Nail and pick up the waitress, me to get to whatever high school party was happening.
Ugh, he’d even seen me throw up. He helped me keep my first drunken escapades from my father’s attention, but the truth is, I’d have rather my father saw me at those moments than Grant.
He’d also beaten up boys who hurt me. For that, I would forever be grateful, even if it meant I had to keep my romantic life secret from him now.
No. It was hopeless. Nothing could ever happen between us. I’d seen too many of the chicks he brought home, and watched them escape the mansion before sunrise as I sat at the dining table with my Cheerios. He had the libido of a stallion.
I’d also heard him talk too many times about how marriage wasn’t for him. How he could never settle down, never tie himself to just one girl.
It was a tough lesson, my first broken heart before I’d even been in a relationship, but I suppose I can’t complain. Grant took care of me like I was family. Since my father’s death, he had my back. I know he’d never let anything bad happen to me.
But my feelings for him have haunted me. Every man I’ve ever been with has been compared, top to bottom, to Grant.
And they’ve all been found wanting.
First, there were the kids I dated back in high school. They were all boys, and could never measure up to Grant. Muscle, sweat, suave, nerve. He was cocky back in those days. He’d say things he knew would wind me up, just to get a rise out of me. It was our way of releasing the sexual tension.
And I guess it worked. We behaved.
Later, when I reached my twenties, I had some real relationships. At least, as real as they ever got with me. But I was never able to get one-hundred-percent committed to the guys I was with. And I guess at some level they could tell, because more than one of them cheated on me. I always told myself I deserved it, because even though I was completely faithful, and even though I did everything in my power to make them happy, in my heart, it was only Grant I wanted to be with.
In my heart, I was only ever really faithful to one man.
And it had led me to a very lonely place.
Chapter 4
Grant
I COULDN’T TAKE MY EYES off Lacey during the ceremony. I mean, she’d always been beautiful to me, but the way she looked now was driving me crazy. She’d told me she’d be wearing her mother’s wedding dress, but I was shocked at how enticing she looked in it. The neckline came down low on her breasts, revealing the tender, pale flesh of her cleavage. The back was open, inviting my gaze to her perfectly sculpted shoulders. Her neck was as graceful and elegant as a swan’s.
Fuck me. She was like a baited trap, and I wanted to step right in.