my life with the two men I was about to face and they were, in actual
fact, complete strangers to me. I knew almost nothing about them except they’d
both been quarterbacks in a Sugar Land high school, now ran a couple of
businesses and were in the process of getting obscenely rich.
And
that they were exceedingly gifted in the ways and means of pleasing a
woman.
There
was a bond there, though, that was forged in steel. It didn’t really matter
what happened next. Or if I never even saw them again as long as I lived. The
night I’d spent with them was going to take its place as one of the shining
jewels in my secret crown. If I ever felt dull or down, I could call on it and
remember how beautiful they’d been and how damn good they had felt.
Taboos and regrets were as useless to me as my lonely past. I was going to use
what they’d given me – that feeling of being alive and young and free and as
femininely powerful as it was possible to be – every day for the rest of my
life.
Before
I reached them I internally braced myself for whatever their reaction might be.
They were headed in one direction and I was bound for something else, we all
knew that. We’d had some fun and now it was time to get on with the real
stuff. Like getting to Austin with no wheels on a hundred bucks. Attempting
to find an old acquaintance who may or may not even be in Austin, let
alone willing to let an unannounced visitor crash on her couch for the
foreseeable future.
I
pushed all that to the back of my mind. There would be plenty of time to
immerse myself in the reality of the daunting road I had ahead of me, with too
many pitfalls to name. For now, I was here, wrapped in Egyptian cotton and
holed up in what was probably a $1,000 a night suite. Might as well enjoy it
while it lasted.
I
walked towards the balcony, and I stood near the open sliding-glass doors.
It
was Nate sitting there. Alone. He didn’t notice me at first. His earplugs were
connected to the iPad he was scrolling through. He was wearing jeans … and only
jeans. And those aviator sunglasses that gave him a badboy edge, a vibe which
his very-dark two-day stubble accentuated. His dark hair was back to its usual
order. It had a barely-there wave to it and caught the lightest hint of
off-gold in the sunlight. His deep-bronzed, powerfully-built chest was dusted
with dark hair. The quilted muscles of his six-pack were clearly defined, drawing
my eye lower, to the tantalizing line of hair that led south, hidden below the
waistband of his low-slung jeans. My gaze lingered on the strong solidity of
his thighs. His ankles were crossed and his bare feet propped on a low table.
He
was, in a word, spectacular .
I
wanted to sink my teeth into all that beefy beauty and feast on him. Again.
Only
then did he notice me. He looked up, taking a minute to run his eyes over my
face, my long, mussed-up hair, the long sheet I had wrapped around most of me.
He removed his earplugs and set his iPad to the side. He folded his
ridiculously manly arms across his ridiculously sculpted chest. “Hey,” he
said. “You’re awake.”
His
voice funneled hotly into every shadowed corner of me. Damn him. I
thought I might be immune to all that in the bright light of day, without the whiskey
buzz or the acute sense of desperation.
“Yeah.”
I guess it might have been natural to feel foolish. Embarrassed, maybe, after
all that had gone down the previous day and night. I felt neither of these
things. I was too busy appreciating the view. A weird echo of a song we’d
listened to yesterday chorused somewhere in the back of my mind. Wild
horses couldn’t drag me away.
The
inaccuracy of the sentiment wasn’t lost on me. Wild horses could drag
me away. A light dismissal was probably the next order of business, once he’d checked
his investment stats or whatever. Within a couple of hours I’d be back on the
side of
fact, complete strangers to me. I knew almost nothing about them except they’d
both been quarterbacks in a Sugar Land high school, now ran a couple of
businesses and were in the process of getting obscenely rich.
And
that they were exceedingly gifted in the ways and means of pleasing a
woman.
There
was a bond there, though, that was forged in steel. It didn’t really matter
what happened next. Or if I never even saw them again as long as I lived. The
night I’d spent with them was going to take its place as one of the shining
jewels in my secret crown. If I ever felt dull or down, I could call on it and
remember how beautiful they’d been and how damn good they had felt.
Taboos and regrets were as useless to me as my lonely past. I was going to use
what they’d given me – that feeling of being alive and young and free and as
femininely powerful as it was possible to be – every day for the rest of my
life.
Before
I reached them I internally braced myself for whatever their reaction might be.
They were headed in one direction and I was bound for something else, we all
knew that. We’d had some fun and now it was time to get on with the real
stuff. Like getting to Austin with no wheels on a hundred bucks. Attempting
to find an old acquaintance who may or may not even be in Austin, let
alone willing to let an unannounced visitor crash on her couch for the
foreseeable future.
I
pushed all that to the back of my mind. There would be plenty of time to
immerse myself in the reality of the daunting road I had ahead of me, with too
many pitfalls to name. For now, I was here, wrapped in Egyptian cotton and
holed up in what was probably a $1,000 a night suite. Might as well enjoy it
while it lasted.
I
walked towards the balcony, and I stood near the open sliding-glass doors.
It
was Nate sitting there. Alone. He didn’t notice me at first. His earplugs were
connected to the iPad he was scrolling through. He was wearing jeans … and only
jeans. And those aviator sunglasses that gave him a badboy edge, a vibe which
his very-dark two-day stubble accentuated. His dark hair was back to its usual
order. It had a barely-there wave to it and caught the lightest hint of
off-gold in the sunlight. His deep-bronzed, powerfully-built chest was dusted
with dark hair. The quilted muscles of his six-pack were clearly defined, drawing
my eye lower, to the tantalizing line of hair that led south, hidden below the
waistband of his low-slung jeans. My gaze lingered on the strong solidity of
his thighs. His ankles were crossed and his bare feet propped on a low table.
He
was, in a word, spectacular .
I
wanted to sink my teeth into all that beefy beauty and feast on him. Again.
Only
then did he notice me. He looked up, taking a minute to run his eyes over my
face, my long, mussed-up hair, the long sheet I had wrapped around most of me.
He removed his earplugs and set his iPad to the side. He folded his
ridiculously manly arms across his ridiculously sculpted chest. “Hey,” he
said. “You’re awake.”
His
voice funneled hotly into every shadowed corner of me. Damn him. I
thought I might be immune to all that in the bright light of day, without the whiskey
buzz or the acute sense of desperation.
“Yeah.”
I guess it might have been natural to feel foolish. Embarrassed, maybe, after
all that had gone down the previous day and night. I felt neither of these
things. I was too busy appreciating the view. A weird echo of a song we’d
listened to yesterday chorused somewhere in the back of my mind. Wild
horses couldn’t drag me away.
The
inaccuracy of the sentiment wasn’t lost on me. Wild horses could drag
me away. A light dismissal was probably the next order of business, once he’d checked
his investment stats or whatever. Within a couple of hours I’d be back on the
side of
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