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I should have known it would be like that.
Explosive.
Intense.
Everything about us has been dialed to one hundred. We can’t even have a conversation without that undercurrent of attraction stepping in like an obnoxious, peanut-grabbing elephant.
Whether that chemistry eased out in arguments or jokes or bodies that grazed each other in passing, our connection was strong.
Some part of me, on a raw, primal level, was not surprised by how confident he was. I had expected him to know how to touch me, drag pleasure out of me, make me beg.
Not that it took a lot to get me there.
My body craved him. Just the warmth of his breath on the slope of my neck had me screaming for more. The mere nuzzle of his lips on my ear, the whisper of his fingers across my thigh. It was nothing and yet it was everything.
I unravelled before he’d even taken off his clothes.
It was perfect.
And then it wasn’t.
Anya.
Anya.
Anya.
A blonde with warrior eyes. Joan of Arc in army fatigues. Smile bright and aimed at Clay like he was her world.
Warrior princess.
Battle fairy.
Perfect, pretty Anya.
I can’t even hate her. She’s not here to hate. She’s not here that I can lay out all the similarities and differences. Circle all the areas where I’m better than her. Where she’s better than me.
She’s perfect.
The dead always are, immortalized as saints in our memories. Time slowly snatching away the bad things, the annoying things, the regretful things, until all that’s left is the sweetness we once knew.
I can’t compete with her. Why should I try? And why should I lose myself? Why should my confidence be slowly whittled away as I struggle to match someone who can never be beaten?
In his heart, Clay Bolton is still married.
The problem is I knew that.
I did since that first day when he told me about losing her. The pain in his eyes. The hitch in his breath. The white-knuckles tightening against the steering wheel.
He’s in love with her.
Always has been.
Always will be.
And it hurts like a relaxer burn.
Yeah, I’m smiling with my clients, chatting, making jokes. Business as usual. But behind that careful facade is a heart that’s bleeding and eyes that fill with tears at the drop of a hat.