Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RORY
I was damn near ready to disconnect my doorbell and throw my phone in the toilet just to stop the incessant pestering from my annoying—albeit well-meaning—sisters. If I had to listen to one more person ask me if I was all right, I was going to scream. I just wanted to drown my sorrows in a couple bottles of wine and fall into my bed to forget this day had ever happened.
The thing that bothered me the most was everyone’s assumptions that I was heartbroken over my ex-husband and former best friend’s cohabitation. I’d been heartbroken over my divorce, true. But it hadn’t been for the reasons most people assumed. I didn’t mourn my marriage or lost love. Mostly because I hadn’t loved Sean in a long time. Or possibly ever, which was the real kicker.
What I mourned instead was the life I’d dreamed of since I was little. The life I’d wanted to give my girls. One with a happy—and together —mother and father who showered them with attention and love—something I’d had to fight tooth and nail to get from my daddy and had never received. Trouble was, I’d picked the wrong man for the job. I’d just been too blind to see it. Sean’s focus had been and always would be on his career. Not his wife. Not his daughters. Not his family.
The doorbell rang, and I tipped my head back, groaning loudly to the ceiling. With a huff, I stopped my trek into the kitchen and turned around, not caring in the least that I still had my hand wrapped around the neck of the as-yet-unopened wine bottle I’d plucked from the pantry. There was no shame in my game.
Whipping open the front door, I said, “I told you, I’m fine , Will. Now, would you please?—”
Except it wasn’t my sister standing on my doorstep.
My mouth dropped open as I took in the broad shoulders that blocked out the setting sun. Nash stood there, wearing a tight gray T-shirt and jeans, hair flopping over his forehead like he’d run his hand through it a time or twenty. Every stitch of clothing molded to his body, showcasing the miles of muscles I knew they covered.
There he stood looking like a model straight off the pages of GQ , the sleeves of his shirt wrapped tightly around his cut biceps. All the while I was in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt I’d had since college, makeup wiped clean from my face, holding a bottle of wine.
I straightened, clearing my throat. “Nash. What can I do for you?”
Though I hadn’t meant it to come out with a sexual undertone, it was obvious that was exactly how he’d taken it. His gaze slipped down from my eyes and took a slow perusal of my body, every inch he passed perking up at the attention. Every inch remembering exactly what it’d felt like to be embraced by those strong, thick arms. Exactly what it’d felt like to have all his hard planes pressed against my soft curves.
Good Lord, I was starved for affection if merely a look and the remembrance of a single kiss did this to me. If I’d known when I’d gotten home that I was going to be on the receiving end of Nash’s smoldering gaze, I definitely wouldn’t have ditched my bra.
“Straight from the bottle, huh?” he asked instead of answering my question, his voice thick.
“What?” My brain was still hiccupping over every detail of what’d happened the other day.
With eyebrows raised, he gestured toward my hand and the bottle I held.
I breathed out a laugh and held it up between us. “Not yet, but I’m thinkin’ so. Might as well abandon whatever dignity I have left.”
“I was thinkin’ this called for something a little stronger.” He reached into the brown paper bag I hadn’t noticed he held and pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose.
My heart stuttered at the memory of that night we’d shared last year. The night that had changed everything for me. Not only had I found Sean cheating, but that’d been the evening I’d realized I no longer loved my husband. Hadn’t for quite some time. Because if I had, I would’ve been devastated at my discovery instead of merely reeling over the blow to my pride.
Whatever this was with Nash was a bad idea. Absolutely nothing good would come from letting him into my house. We hadn’t seen each other since that day in my kitchen, but the time apart hadn’t dimmed the attraction that sizzled between us. Hadn’t dulled the memory of his lips on mine. Hadn’t subdued the urge I had to repeat every second of it.
There was no denying the fact that my body lit up in his presence—had nearly combusted from a simple kiss. And certainly no denying the fact that I ached—absolutely ached —for the kind of connection he promised without saying a word.
It was right there for me to see in the way he looked at me—studied me, really. His eyes caressed my body as sure as if it were his hands running along my skin. He wanted me, that much was clear. And while I had absolutely no business doing this—had, in fact, a hundred and one reasons not to—I found I just didn’t have the strength to say no tonight.
Moreover, I didn’t want to.
In all my years with Sean, I’d never responded like I had when Nash had kissed me. And the curious part of me—the part that was trying desperately to figure myself out—wanted to know what one night of that would be like.
Without a word, I stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing for Nash to come inside. Holding my breath as he strolled over the threshold and blew all my best intentions out of the water.