If we ever can.
Casey frowns when I don’t answer.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, not wanting to reveal the full, insane truth. “I can’t think up what to write for that first-date question.”
“You’ll get there, sis.” Casey yawns. “I’m pooped. What should we do for dinner?”
“I’ll make us some pasta if you like?”
She nods gratefully. I step into the kitchen, busying myself with dinner prep, trying not to feel down when my gaze rests on our beat-up oven. Everything in this apartment is sub-standard, but there isn’t much we can do about it.
Dad never had life insurance, and it’s not like we were wealthy before he died.
But still, we have a place to live. We’re together. We’re warm. There’s food in the fridge.
There is a lot to be grateful for.
As the pasta boils, I feel a similar feeling in my belly.
I wonder how long it’ll be before these crazy thoughts slow down and the rush of need and hunger comes to a standstill.
At least there’s one small consolation if I can even call it that. At the very least, it will save me the embarrassment of having to confront my feelings.
I’m never going to see Preston Packer again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Preston
I stand at my window, my arms behind my back, trying to fight the tension gripping me. I’ve never felt anything like this, even when I was a football player and we were about to play the Super Bowl, getting amped up in the locker room.
As the lights of the city glint up at me, I reflect that this has nothing to do with Lena. Her performance in the elevator was, by her standards, far better than it could’ve been. At least it didn’t devolve into screaming, maybe even slapping. Lena has a temper.
No, it’s not Lena, and the way I had to walk out of the office to avoid further conflict.
It’s her.
I remember the way her eyes widened when she turned and spotted me. I couldn’t tell if it was because she recognized me, as often happens, or if it was something else.
The maelstrom of hunger and desire hasn’t stopped, swirling with even more force. Her body bewitches me, luscious and full, made for touching and lavishing with attention. Her wide hips and her heavy breasts make me salivate like a goddamn animal.
Remember what happened last time you rushed into something.
That’s caution speaking, reminding me of what happened with Lena.
There were never any thoughts like this – never any visions of a family and a future and a home – but it doesn’t change the fact that I rushed in, got burnt, and left a mess in my wake.
I need to slow down, to think about this.
But before I know it, I’ve turned and I’m walking quickly through my apartment. I don’t give myself any time to think about what I’m doing. I’ve been trying to fight the urge all day, remembering how sour it turned with Lena.
This woman is nothing like Lena, though. I rushed into things with Lena because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I needed to settle down, because that’s what everyone does, and I never stopped to think about how little I felt.
This volcano inside of me, rumbling, ready to erupt, is nothing like what I felt for Lena.
The sad truth – the thing that probably led to the majority of our problems – is I felt almost nothing for my ex-girlfriend. I feel more for this stranger, for my beautiful curvy woman, than I ever did for my ex.
Does that make me an asshole?
Sitting at my desk, I boot up my computer, my mind filled with her voice. I remember she mentioned a blog, joking that she should rename it because she’s a fraud.
I google the name of the blog, Tell Me Everything.
When that brings nothing up, I add ‘blog’ to the search. Scrolling through the results, I find a possible candidate nine entries down.
Clicking it, my hand tightens on the mouse. My grip threatening to shatter it.
It’s the correct website.
The homepage shows a photo of Penny Harris – her bio tells me her name – standing in front of a pink backdrop with a soft smile on her face. She’s wearing an attractive black top that shows off her neck and shoulders. And even though only her top half is on display, it’s enough to have me rumbling within.
Her eyes are bright, and her smile seems to tell me something. It tells me she’s going to make an incredible mother. Then it warps, and suddenly she’s silently telling me that she wants me to drag her to bed.
Drag her into the bedroom, throw her down on the mattress, and fall upon her like the starving animal she makes me.
My hands tearing at her clothes, ripping her voluptuous body free, freeing those round tits. I can hear her whimpering as I sucked her nipples, first one then the other, pushing her breasts together to make it easier to take both into my mouth.