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She wants me. After almost a year apart, she still wants me. If I dropped this towel right now, she’d meet me halfway. Let me pull off her clothes and stretch her out across the bed. Open her legs. She’d be wet. Ready for me. Fuck my plans. Fuck my principles. All I have to do is drop my towel. Move forward. Three feet and she’s mine.
Cari.
Goddamn it.
No.
This isn’t about doing the right thing. Not anymore.
This is about getting what I want.
Her.
All of her.
I want all of her, and I’m not going to settle for less.
Not again.
Remembering that strengthens my resolve. Tightens the clamp I have on my towel-covered cock because even though I know what I want, so does it. And right now, we’re working on different agendas.
“Cari,” I say her name, and it snaps her eyes up to mine. “Why are you in here?”
As soon as I say it, she looks away. “I have to talk to you,” she says, her gaze settling on my arm. “I have things I want to—what happened to your arm?”
I look down at the raised, pink scar that runs the length of my forearm, from elbow to wrist. Lifting my gaze, I find hers again and give her a quick half-smile, using the distraction to get myself under control.
“Someone set my bathroom on fire.” I remember that day. How fucked up I was over the fact that she left. So fucked up, I didn’t even realize I’d burned myself putting out the fire she started until she was gone.
After that, it hurt like a bitch.
Everything did.
“Oh.” She looks lost like she has no idea what she’s doing.
I sigh. “Cari?”
“Right.” As quickly as I say it, her indecision is gone. “I have things I want to say.” She lifts her chin and looks me in the eye. “To you.”
“Okay. Fine. Whatever you want.” Right now, I’d agree to just about anything to get her to leave. “Think I can put pants on first?”
She stands, squaring her shoulders. The movement pushes her tits against her shirt, and I almost swallow my tongue. “And then you’ll listen to me?”
“Yes.” I nod my head, my hand squeezing my dick hard enough to cut off its circulation. If I squeeze any harder, I’m going to end up snapping it in half. I jerk my chin at the door. “Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” She walks out and closes the door behind her.
Jesus Christ.
As soon as she’s gone, I lock the door and drop the towel and look down. My cock is staring me straight in the face. If it had a voice, I swear to Christ it’d be laughing right now.
Maybe jerking off isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Fifteen minutes later, Iemerge to find her in the kitchen, standing at the counter. She has a wine glass pulled out of the cabinet and she’s filling it. Next to it is a bottle of beer. Hearing me, she sets the bottle down and lifts her glass while holding the beer out to me.
“You’re angry,” she says looking up at me when I take the beer from her and set it down.
“Little bit,” I tell her, forcing myself to stay where I am. To stay away from her. “You’re drunk.”