I don’t tell him how my cock throbbed and ached at the prospect of turning her around and bending her over, sliding my hand up her thigh.
And then hearing her moan, softly toying with her pussy. The way she’d shift against me, chasing the lust.
“Damn,” Charley says. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“Now you do,” I reply. “And you think I’m batshit.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far. I just never knew… I thought you were a grumpy bastard, that’s all. I didn’t know you were waiting for the one.”
I groan. “That makes it sound cheesy as hell.”
“Well… how would you describe it?”
I come to a stop at a red right, watching as a couple crosses the street hand in hand. Like me, one of them has silver hair, and the woman seems younger. She looks up at him and smiles with admiration, love, and desire written all over her face.
Could that be us? One day?
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Maybe the one is the closest we can get. But that makes it sound like I’ve lost my mind.”
“Maybe you have,” Charley says.
It’s supposed to come out as a joke, but I’m sure I detect a note of seriousness in there.
Can I blame him?
As far as he knows, I’m a hard-as-nails fighter, a boxer who never once quit in the ring. He’s never felt what I feel – the hungering, the yearning in the darkest parts of the night, wishing I could have the family that was denied me.
Rachel is that family. She’s the key to my future.
“I can’t tell her any of this, can I?” I say.
“No, mate. I’d say probably not.”
“Because she’ll think I’m a freak. She’ll run. I’ll never see her again.”
“I don’t know how she’ll feel,” Charley responds. “But yeah, I’d say it’s probably unlikely that she feels exactly the same. It’s a shock you even feel this way. I don’t want you to ruin this. Even if it’s unusual, or whatever –.”
“You can call me mental, Charley. I know you’re itching to.”
“Hey, I haven’t called you that in years.” I can hear Charley grinning. “I don’t want you to scare her away. That’s all I’m saying. It’s clear you care about this woman more than you’ve ever cared about anyone.”
He’s right.
I’ve never cared about any woman, not even a little bit. In my twenties and early thirties, I tried dating. I tried to feel. But it all failed. There was never anything except the feeling I was missing something. There had to be more.
Rachel is that more.
She’s everything.
“That’s why I’m glad our date isn’t until tomorrow,” I say. “I’m telling you, bro, just now… I thought I was going to let it all out. I thought I was going to tell her. Can you imagine? Rachel, I fell for you the second we started talking on the online chat system.”
“That does sound insane,” Charley chuckles. “Do you think you’ll be okay on the date?”
“I just need to keep it casual,” I tell him. “It’s a first date. I can’t turn full animal.”
“Just pretend to be a normal person, eh?” Charley teases. “If you can manage that.”
I laugh. As usual, my old friend can find humor in any situation.
“Seriously, though,” he goes on. “I hope this works out.”
“Me too.” I sigh, picturing Rachel’s face if I told her the truth. “I just need to remember what’s at stake.”
Our marriage, our children, our home, our life, and our future. Just the most important things, that’s all.
So everything, then.
Everything’s at stake.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rachel
“I feel like an idiot,” I say, turning to study myself in the mirror.
“It’s the outfit you chose, sis,” Autumn replies from her perch on the bed.
Spinning, I glare at her. I know it’s not her fault and that taking out my frustration on her is unfair, but I can’t seem to stop myself. She’s the only one here, and it’s like my anger needs somewhere to go.
“It’s one of the outfits I chose.” I gesture to my bedroom, which has become a bombsite of clothes. “Do you think I look like I’m trying too hard to seem sexy? I’ve never really done sexy. Maybe I should stick with sweatpants and a shirt or something.”
“He’s going to go wild when he sees you,” Autumn says confidently.
I bite down, turning back to the mirror. I’m wearing a really out-there gold sleeveless top, like the upscale version of a wife beater. My legs are hugged tightly by my wet-looking black jeans. And my feet are snugly fit into short heels.
Autumn helped with my hair, brushing out some of the more stubborn waves, and I’m even wearing a light layer of makeup.
When I glance at the clock, my nerves swell.
“Thirty minutes,” I mutter. “It’ll take half of that just to get out of these freaking jeans.”
“Rachel.” Autumn walks across the room and places her hands firmly on my shoulders. “Stop worrying. You told me yourself. He said you were beautiful. He’s clearly attracted to you.”