Gwen
twenty-eight
Past
Buzz, buzz.
Muffled vibrations threaten to pull me from the warm cocoon currently wrapped around my body. The buzzing returns and refuses to stop this time, forcing me to open my eyes.
A dim blue light coats the unfamiliar room, and a brief ripple of confusion washes over me before a tidal wave of memories crashes over me.
The World Series party, the rooftop, talking to Lance, leaving the club together, eating donuts, kissing Lance, and then our cab ride to his hotel.
My heart skips a beat.
O-M-freaking-G. I spent the night getting it on with Lance Taylor, and it was beyond amazing.
If his thick arm wasn’t draped over my waist as he plays the big spoon to my little, I’d think this was a dream.
Citrus and spice fill my nose, and I take a calming breath, basking in the moment.
The delicious soreness in my muscles brings a smile to my face.
Lance really knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.
When he said he wanted to fuck me until I passed out, he meant every word.
I can’t even count the number of times he made me come.
My nipples pucker at the memory of his wicked mouth covering every inch of my skin in worship.
Last night was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Before Lance, I would have said sex was good. Satisfying in the way a plate of salty fries fills you up and leaves you content.
After him … Satisfying doesn’t come close to any vocabulary word I would use to describe sex with Lance. He’s a plate of loaded fries, dripping in cheese and covered in bacon. Decadent and dangerous to your health.
Being with Lance was life-altering. A mind-blowing and otherworldly adventure. There’s no way any other man could do what he did to me.
Let’s not forget he plays for your father’s baseball team.
Shut up, brain. Let me live in my delusion a little longer.
I’m not na?ve. Lance could wake up and push me out the door with a rushed goodbye. One night does not make a relationship.
The buzzing starts again, and my eyes scan the room.
Condom wrappers, wet towels, and clothes litter the floor. The desk lamp rests on its side from one of our romps where he bent me over the mahogany-grained wood and fucked me from behind.
I spot my purse on the floor by the door, next to Lance’s suit jacket. As gently as I can, so as not to disturb Lance as he sleeps soundly, I lift his arm and slide out from under him and the sheets.
The dull ache between my legs throbs in both desire and overuse.
Naked as the day I was born, I tiptoe around the room and scoop up my panties and bra off the floor. I slip them on and grab my purse, pulling my cellphone free and checking the notifications.
Eleven missed calls from my best friend.
I jump as the phone in my hand vibrates again with an incoming call. Rushing into the bathroom, I quietly close the door behind me before turning on the light and answering my phone.
“Jenna?” I whisper.
“Ohmigod, finally,” Jenna cries, putting me on high alert. “I am so sorry to bother you.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She sniffs. “I’m fine. Well, I will be in six weeks.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I broke my dang wrist, and I need you to come get me from the hospital. The nurse is being a pain and won’t let me leave alone. I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t need you, but Ty drove down to Atlantic City with his new flavor of the month.”
Jenna and I met Ty at UNY, where he studied theater with Jenna. I bite back a chuckle, thinking about what new sugar daddy Ty is milking this time. Our friend loves his men like his wine—finely aged.
“How on earth did you break your arm?”
“I was … I-I slipped and fell, and that’s all you need to know. Are you coming to get me or what?”
There is no chance in hell I’m letting her off without telling me what happened. But the tears in her voice prevent me from demanding answers now. “Of course, I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you. I owe you big time. I’ll send you my location.”
“See you soon.” I end the call and slip on my bra and panties, and then shove my phone into my purse. I turn off the light and, quiet as a mouse, I exit the bathroom into the room.
As quickly as I can, I pull on my sweater and skirt, foregoing my tights, and slip on my boots.
I hate going commando, but the gaping hole in the crotch makes them useless.
A smile pulls at my lips at the memory of him ripping them open so I could ride his cock.
I’ll never look at a cab the same way again.
Glancing over, I stare at the gorgeous man who turned my world upside down.
He’s still sleeping soundly in bed, wrapped in the white sheets, lying on his side where I left him. His pink lips are parted as he softly snores, looking peaceful.
Every fiber of my being begs me to crawl back into bed, into his arms, and stay.
The last thing I want to do is wake him. He played one of the most exciting and stressful games of his life, went out to a party, and stayed up all night showing me how a real man treats a woman. The man needs his rest.
I watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. The idea of walking out the door fills me with dread. If it wasn’t for my best friend, I’d be lying in that bed right beside him, hoping that when he woke up, he’d reach for me and keep me in his arms for the rest of the day.
At that thought, a plan forms in my head. If I hurry, I could make it back before he wakes up and notices I was gone. But just in case.
Reaching into the purse, I pull out my lipstick and scribble brB xo G and my phone number on the full-length mirror hanging between the closet and the door.
I grab Lance’s suit jacket off the floor and slip my arms into the sleeves. His masculine cologne surrounds me, pushing me to hurry and get back to him as soon as possible. I take one more glance at the sleeping Adonis, then slip out of his hotel room with a whispered promise of returning.
Knock, knock.
No answer.
Is he still asleep?
A sinking feeling pulls at my insides, threatening to expel its limited contents.
Holding a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other, I tap on the door again. I’m definitely on the right floor, and there is no way I mixed up the room number. I replayed the four digits in my head on a loop the entire time I was gone.
I should have just woken him up and explained the situation instead of slipping out like a thief in the night.
I’m going to put spiders in Jenna’s underwear drawer.
It’s her fault it took me longer to get back.
I adore my friend, but she was really laying it on thick as I escorted her from the hospital to her apartment.
A piece of me hoped Lance would see my note and at least send me a text.
As much as I would have wanted last night to mean more to him, a simple “thanks for last night” would have sufficed.
I knock on the door one last time. “Lance?”
There’s an eerie silence on the hotel floor where each room should be filled with boisterous professional baseball players.
Tears sting my nose.
He’s gone.
While my silly heart hangs onto the thread of hope that he saw my number and will call, my head knows better. I chuck the bagels and coffee into the trash can by the elevator and get the hell out of the building before someone recognizes me.
As amazing as our time together was, Lance never promised me more.
Besides, it’s better this way.
I need to concentrate on my work, not a relationship with a man who works for my father’s beloved baseball team. There is no telling what he would do if he found out I hooked up with one of his players.
That’s not a problem either Lance or I need. So, for both our sakes, I can see this experience for what it was. One perfect night.
It’s a hell of a lot more than some people get in their lifetimes.
Now, I just need my heart to listen to logic and get on board, and hope the pain of regret disappears soon.