Goddammit.
I couldn’t stay here in this little boat. I wanted to hide from him, wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I wanted to sit here in this cabin and nurse my aching heart.
God, it hurt.
Now that there was a little time between me and The Betrayal, as I thought of it, I realized Michael’s infidelity and the way I’d discovered it was deeply, intensely painful. Way more so than I’d even estimated. It cut me deep, past the bone to the very essence of my soul. Eradicated everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I wanted in life. Undermined my ability to trust anyone, and that was already pretty well fucked by Mom’s betrayal.
It hurt so bad.
Why, Michael? WHY?
There was no easy or obvious answer.
The only thing that was obvious was how crazily I was attracted to Sebastian. Which made no sense, and I didn’t know what to do about it, because I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything, but my heart fucking hurt so goddamn bad I didn’t dare trust myself with it, much less a guy I barely knew.
My libido had an opinion, obviously:
It doesn’t have to involve my heart, just my pussy.
And my tits.
And my mouth.
And my hands.
And my ass.
And every inch of my flesh, which I was sure he’d kiss. Carefully, and thoroughly.
And fucking hell did I want that.
“You feel that? It can be inside you. Making you feel incredible. Making all the bullshit go away. You want it. It doesn’t have to be complicated, Dru. It can be simple, and real, and good. As long as you want it.” He’d actually said that to me, out loud. And it had nearly worked. Because I did want that. I wanted all the bullshit to go away. I wanted to forget everything, and I knew as surely as I knew my own name that Sebastian could make good on that promise. He could drown everything out.
If I let him.
But I shouldn’t.
It would be reckless. I’d get invested. I’d want more from him. And even if he was capable of more, of putting real emotions on the line, I wasn’t sure I was capable of that, not after what Michael had done. Plus, this was his home, not mine. I’d have to go back to Seattle at some point, right? My life was there. Dad was there.
Michael was there—but shit, that was an argument for the other column.
I was going in circles, and I knew it.
“I can make you feel good, Dru. You deserve to feel good.”
“Let me erase it all.”
I could let him erase it all. I could go back across the street and let Sebastian make me feel good for a while. And then, when I’d gotten enough, when I felt strong enough again to face Seattle and the prospect of starting all over without Michael…I’d go back. A few days, max.
Spend a few days fucking Sebastian, letting him make me feel good, and then I’d go back to Seattle.
Forget Michael.
Forget Tawny.
Forget the botched wedding and my maxed-out credit cards and the fact that I’d quit my job and that the lease on my apartment was up at the end of the month and I had nowhere to go.
But none of that mattered, did it? Not right now. I was in Ketchikan, Alaska, far from all that bullshit, and I had a sexy as hell man across the street who wanted me and who could give me a few days worth of the best orgasms of my life.
Fuck it, I thought.
I wasn’t typically a “fuck it” kind of girl. I thought things through. I did the right thing. I paid attention to the details and formulated plans, and made decisions logically. My lease was ending and I was getting married, thus I hadn’t lined up a new apartment because I’d be moving in with Michael. I’d been offered a couple of law clerk positions out of college, and had taken the one I liked best, which had turned out to be a mistake because they weren’t intending to actually move me up or use me to the fullest of my abilities, so I put out some feelers and knew I’d be able to get a new position at a bigger, better firm. Thus, when my boss told me I couldn’t take any time off for my honeymoon, I’d put in my two weeks notice. Michael made good money, I made good money, thus I had no problem maxing out my credit cards to pay for the wedding, especially since Dad wasn’t really in a place to pay for it all, and god knew Michael’s parents wouldn’t.
But looking back, those had all been serious mistakes. Well, I mean, I could still get a job if I went back to Seattle. That much, at least, didn’t depend on Michael and the wedding.
If?
No…that was crazy talk. Of course I was going back.
Just…not yet.
The cabin of the sailboat was nice and warm and cozy and dry, and most of all, private. I could chill here. Relax alone, no fucked-up situations to navigate.
I stripped off my clothes and laid them out to dry, went into the bedroom and climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin…and promptly fell asleep.