Separation Anxiety(81)

He kissed my neck again and leaned back to look me in the eye. “Then I’m going to fuck you the way I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first moment I saw you in the library at school five years ago. I plan to take you whatever way I want to, and of course I am open to any suggestions you have, too.”

My eyebrows shot up at his words as my lady parts tingled. My goodness, his use of words mixed with that raspy voice mixed with the lust in his eyes was some kind of magic.

“Oh my,” I managed to say, my voice panting as the throbbing that was always present down low when I was with Jesse started to ache.

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, taking another bite of his Cheerios. How he managed to stay composed through that little speech while I was a melted puddle of desire on the floor was beyond me.

I took a deep breath. “These are going to be the two slowest weeks of my life, aren’t they?”

“For you and me both, babe. But it won’t be anything compared to the last two months.”

“Good point. But you’ll be in Mexico having a great time with your buddies, looking at women in teeny bikinis while I’m here missing you.”

“Haven’t you realized yet that I only have eyes for you?” he asked, a hint of frustration in his tone.

I glanced up at him, and his eyes burned into mine. I could read from that look alone that I was the only woman on his mind and in his heart.

“I know you do,” I said, realizing how true it was. Based on his actions since I’d been crashing with him, I knew he meant it. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been with a single other woman during our time together, and I was certain that he would have told me if he had been, even if it had happened in our two months apart. It seemed to me that he wrote off all of those other ladies the moment I started staying with him.

I thought about Tami, the waitress from our happy hour bar that he’d told me he had slept with that first night when I’d told him Richard and I were getting divorced. I remembered him going back in when he was going to take me home. I remembered with jealousy when I saw Tami’s arms lace around his neck, and then I remembered her looking angry as he left the bar. Clearly they’d had plans to hook up that night, and he’d gone back in to tell her it was off because he already knew that he was taking me home with him. I wondered at his thought process and when he had made the decision that night that he wasn’t going to take me to my home, but to his.

He finished his cereal and brought his bowl to the sink. I watched him, memorizing his movements so I had something to hold onto while we were apart.

He reluctantly left a few minutes later. He’d given me a list of instructions about the house, kissed me about seven hundred times, and told me he loved me. He asked one more time if it was okay that he was leaving me on my own to deal with Richard, and I assured him that I would be fine.

And then I watched as he pulled out of the driveway, tears prickling my eyes as I watched him pull around the corner and drive off toward Mexico. I held onto the love and excitement in my heart as I looked toward my trip to California in two long weeks.





CHAPTER 17





I headed back to bed, hugging Jesse’s pillow to my chest as I felt the empty space I always felt when we were apart. I breathed in that masculine piney Christmas scent he had perfected, that scent that had become my favorite scent in the entire universe.

I fell asleep and dreamed of Jesse, a big bed, and all the promises he’d just made to me.

After I’d finally hauled my lazy ass out of bed later that day, I headed over to the house I shared with Richard. He was home, and I was conflicted over whether I actually wanted him to be there or not. I knew we needed to talk; I wanted to confront him about The Scandal, but at the same time, I wanted nothing to do with his slimy face. Hatred simmered in my heart as I thought about the misery I’d endured for the past two months at his hands.

I knew it wasn’t worth broaching the subject because it wouldn’t change anything. The quicker I could get in and out, the better.

He was sprawled on the couch when I got there, watching the Golf channel. Something about that made me inexplicably hate him just a little more.

“We need to talk,” I said, standing directly in front of the TV.

“About what?” he asked.

“About why the fuck you think it’s okay to ruin my life.”

Oops. That just sort of slipped out. I hadn’t meant it to, but my intentions were better than my words.

“What are you talking about?”

I shook my head.

He still didn’t move from his position on the couch. He waved his hand in the air, motioning for me to scoot away from the TV. I didn’t budge.