Sex. Marriage. She meant it all the same as I had.
At least we were on the same page about something.
A foundation—based on shared beliefs. She didn’t realize she’d just proven why it was possible we could work together forever, but I wouldn’t push her now.
“I’m going to go shower,” I told her instead.
And on the way—I made a plan.
I was going to seduce my wife. And I wouldn’t quit until she decided to stay married to me.
15
Gabby
I gave up trying to find a movie. I hadn’t paid attention to the screen as I’d flipped through channels and I didn’t even realize I’d wandered into his movie room until I was there, curled on a couch in the dark room. I’d just wanted to escape and hide, from Joey, from the feelings he was pulling from me every time he touched me.
And God. His kisses. They were more addictive than strawberries dipped in chocolate, more addictive than a perfect red wine, or an early morning, cloudless sunrise. I could devour every single one of them and even while hurting, be desperate for more.
That was how I was starting to feel around Joey.
Desperate. For his touch, his kisses, his presence.
Stupid. Stupid me. I’d married a man I barely knew only to find myself falling for him in two days.
I was sharing too much with him. Being too vulnerable. For some ridiculous reason, I was diving headfirst into a situation I’d end up hurt from, I knew it.
The problem was I wasn’t sure how to stop it. The avalanche had already started and was growing, steamrolling its way through me, and tomorrow, we were supposed to be hitting the road, traveling the country in a van meant for lovers.
How in the hell was I going to stop this madness?
Antsy, irritated and still tasting Joey on my lips and in my mouth, I tossed down the remote and shoved out of the chair.
I hadn’t eaten all day, the parade lasted hours and with traffic, we’d been gone since early this morning. I needed food. Thankfully, Joey kept his fridge stocked with all manner of food and I quickly found something I could make for dinner.
I had already prepared chicken breasts, the oven was preheated and I was finishing chopping up vegetables for a simple sheet pan dinner meal when his footsteps echoed headed down the back stairway and then he was in the kitchen.
He’d showered, like he said he was going to do and his hair was still wet. And his shaved scruff, thick and short… what I wouldn’t give to feel the scrape of it beneath my fingertips or in other, more sensitive places.
Gah! I turned back to the vegetables, lest my fingertips ended up mixed with the zucchini, and tried as hard as I could to kick that errant thought out of my mind.
It was useless. The way we’d torn at each other still had me worked up and I hadn’t been smart enough to relieve that ache when I’d run and hid earlier.
“This looks great,” Joey said, scanning the baking sheet where I drizzled avocado oil over everything, seasoned with garlic and onion powders, some paprika and a dash of chili powder for a kick. “Do you like cooking?”
“It’s not my favorite hobby.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, too terrified of what he’d read on my face. Would he see the woman falling for him way too fast? The stupid little girl who acted on impulse? Or would he just see me the daughter and sister and hairstylist who was just trying to find her place in a world of billions and floundering like everyone else?
Worse—would he see me still so damn turned on I’d risk jumping him and climbing him like a tree?
“What is it?”
“What?”
The refrigerator closed and he stood, popping open a bottle of beer. “Your favorite hobby. What is it?”
“Oh. Um.” I slid the sheet into the oven and set the timer. Hell if I knew. I worked. In the last year, I hung out with Kurt and his stupid friends constantly talking about the stock market and the housing boom and the bubble that would surely pop soon. Blah blah freaking blah. No one ever cared enough to ask about the training I did. New balayage techniques or eyebrow threading or eyebrow shaping. “Being outside. Doing anything.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled and grabbed a wineglass from one of his cupboards. “Want a glass?”
I shouldn’t. I was already twisted up enough. But because I was reckless, I grinned. “Definitely. What’d the yeah mean?”
He smiled, that panty melting and too sexy it shocked my libido smile as he poured me a glass of white wine from his wine fridge in the island.
“Everything you want to do or see involves being outside. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
Huh. In truth, I hadn’t even thought of it. I just thought the places looked cool and why not see what the country has to offer outside museums and pavement. “Right,” I mumbled and thanked him for the wine. The first sip tasted like lime and fresh air, and I inhaled the sweet citrusy scent before setting my glass down.
“What’s yours?”
“Besides skating?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Something that isn’t related to your job.”
“I can’t help it. I love my job. I don’t know though, really. There hasn’t been a lot of time in the recent years to spend time doing hobby type things, outside reading while I’m on the plane. And I’m not a big reader, either.”
I imagined him, dressed in a suit, noise-canceling headphones on. The tie would be gone, the top collar of his shirt unbuttoned while he settled back with a paperback in his hand, a sole light on the airplane barely giving him enough to read clearly.
A shiver rolled down my spine and I swallowed thickly to shake it away. Was there anything Joey could do and not look devastatingly handsome doing it?
Doubtful.
“What about the off-season? What do you do then?” Garrett always spent time golfing. He played in tournaments all over the country that donated the proceeds to various charities. He’d also frequently rented a boat on Lake Michigan and would take teammates out for weekend trips, sleeping on the water. I’d gone with him once and spent half the trip bent over the tailing, puking up everything I ate.
“Ah. I forget you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
He broke out into a full smile. The kind of smile I’d tripped over my own feet earlier when I saw it. Delightfully happy, built like a man who could go hours and would enjoy every moment of it—no wonder why I was falling so quickly for him.
He was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“I run a youth baseball league during the summers.”
“Baseball?”
“Yeah.” His smile turned shy and if I wasn’t mistaken, color darkened his cheeks. “I bought this bar a couple years back—”
“A bar?”
I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t envision Joey owning a bar. A club? Sure. He had that modern vibe and based on the way he’d moved us early while we’d been superglued to each other, he obviously knew how to move his body, work those trim hips of his.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and took another pull of his beer. “Malley’s. It’s this place a few miles away. Some of us guys found it after we were kicked out of the playoffs a couple seasons ago. We wanted to wallow, didn’t want to go anywhere we’d be recognized so we stumbled on this small local place. Jerry, the guy who owned it, knew us as soon as we walked in, but the man didn’t say shit. We could just tell, you know? Said something later on in the night about how we’d had a good run and should be proud. Anyway, we kept going, but then he got sick last year and was too afraid his life’s legacy would be bulldozed and turned into part of the nearby strip mall. So I bought it from him.”