Sleeping with Mr. Sexy(11)

“First of all, it’s Lynton now, not Michaels. Secondly,” she says, running out of breath. “I’m going to do this for you, and then you’re going to let it lie… forever. No more of this going back and forth stuff. He’s getting married, because he wants to. He’s moved on. You need to do the same. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” I agree, but it pains me to do it.

I hear her mumbling to herself on her end. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Finally, I hear a knock and she says, “It’s Caris.” I assume she places the phone flat against her chest to muffle their voices, but I can still hear him.

I close my eyes and enjoy his deep soothing tone when he speaks to her. “Lydia?”

My mind goes blank. What am I doing? What should I say?

“Hello?” he asks. His breath is short, bordering on panicked.

I find my voice, though it’s weak and shaking. My hands are shaking, too. I’m nervous. “Chase?”

“Hi. What are you doing?” He sounds nervous, maybe a bit angry now.

“I needed to talk to you, to hear your voice.”

“Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

I’ve missed his concern. I want to tell him not to go through with this wedding, but I can’t. All I can do is tell him how bad I’m doing without him in my life. “I’m not all right, and everything is wrong. All wrong.” I feel heavy tears prick at my eyes as my voice gets shakier with every word spoken.

He sighs loudly into the phone. “Lydia, why are you calling?” I can visualize him running his hands through his hair right now.

“Chase?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. Please forgive me.”

He chuckles softly. “I forgave you a long time ago. Um, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to go.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He pauses, and then adds, “Hey, Lydia?”

“Yes?” I perk up with misguided hope.

“Have a good life, okay?”

The tears steam down my cheeks as I muster everything within me to let him go. “You too, Chase.” Right before he ends the call, I whisper, “I love you.” The phone goes dead. He doesn’t hear me, but it felt right to say it, to put it out there after all these years.

After a few glasses of wine, I close my eyes while lying on the couch, and let all the good that was our last night together, cover me in warmth and wonderfulness.

I was drunk and stubborn when we left the club, still embarrassed when I revisit the memory. “I can take care of myself, you know,” I say, annoyance in my tone.

Chase smiles at me then laughs. “I know you can. You’ve always been very independent. But back there was more about me than you.”

I continue using Chase as support as we walk toward his apartment. “Michelle said you need to get laid? Do you need to get laid, Chase?” I ask, slurring my words while accidentally swaying a little to the right.

“Come back here. You’re drunk.” He pulls me by the hand and tucks me under his arm securely for the remainder of the walk.

In his apartment, I pour myself a glass of water, and watch as he adjusts the lights to a dimmer setting, making it easier on my eyes. He shuts the curtains in the living room and starts some soft background music.

“Are you drunk at all? A little buzzed maybe?” I ask, just wondering because he seems sober.

“I’m pretty buzzed. Don’t let the sexy swagger fool you.”

“Mr. Sexy’s sexy swagger,” I repeat, snorting into my water. He walks into the kitchen with his shirt untucked and his belt hanging loose. Fuck, he does have a sexy swagger. I stop laughing and watch his ass then his front as he swaggers my way.

“You’ve never called me that before.”

Raising my chin up, I reply, “I’ve never had a reason to before.”

He smirks. “Do you have a reason to now?”

My whole body is engulfed in heated, sexual Chase flames as I look at him look at me like that—Hell yes, I have a reason. “Damn straight, I do.” He reaches for my water, takes a gulp, and, as soon as he sets the glass down, I’m on him. My body lunges forward, my tongue licking the water droplets off his lips before he has a chance to do the job himself.

His hands grab my waist, and he pushes me away just enough to look at my face. “Lydia?” I close my eyes, humiliated by the lack of control with my best friend—my hot, sexy best friend. “Lydia, look at me.” I open my eyes slowly, embarrassed. “What was that?” he asks.

“That was me making a fool out of myself. I’m sorry,” I say, straightening his shirt by running my hands down his chest repeatedly and totally feeling his rock hard chest.