Page 21 of 7 Nights of Sin

I frowned and shook my head. I didn't like that thought. It was stupid to think that she'd hadn't been with anyone else since we'd been together, and basically everyone knew I had, but I didn't want to think about anyone else touching her, kissing her, making her scream.

I wanted to be the one doing those things, and I realized with a jolt that I meant that literally. I wanted to do those things to her. I'd been so busy during the last six years that I hadn't really had time to think about her, and I'd assumed she was living her life and didn't need anything to do with me. And to a certain extent, that was true.

But now that we were back in each other's orbit, I knew I wasn't going to be able to forget about her. She was the kind of woman who stuck in a man's head and wouldn't leave.

I kept focusing on my mental image of her in the shower with me, wet and delectable. I thought about her dropping to her knees, mouth plush and ready, opening to take my cock in.

It would be so much nicer than my hand, but that was all I had, so it was going to have to do for the moment.

I jerked myself off in quick strokes, and when I felt the thundering of my orgasm bearing down on me, I leaned into it, imagining coming down Caro's throat, or painting her pretty face with my come instead.

Either option worked for me.

Fuck. I felt boneless and completely sated as I stood there, slumping a bit against the wall and catching my breath.

It wasn't as good as it would have been with the woman herself, but it was good enough. Good enough to let me know that I needed to have her.

Not just for the sex but because I missed her. I missed her wit and her humor and the way she always knew how to make me feel better.

This antagonism we had going on now wasn't fun, and I wasn't really sure what I'd done to piss her off so badly. Asking seemed like a bad idea, but I wasn't sure where else to start.

She had her hands full working on my image, and I made a snap decision right then and there that I was going to put myself to the task of working on her.

Maybe there was still something there between us, and if there was, I wanted it.

I wanted her.

I was probably less than attentive than I should have been during the check-in session with Coach, ordering something on my phone while he laid out the particulars of what he wanted from me.

Basically for me to clean my act up so I wasn’t an embarrassment to the team. Cool. Could do. Probably.

I assured him I didn’t plan on doing anything that would jeopardize my place on the team, and that seemed to satisfy him enough that he let me go without too much lecturing.

It was the middle of the week, but I was tired of staying in, so I took myself to one of my favorite bars in the city, promising I would behave and not give reporters any cause to write shit about me.

There was only so much 'being good' I could do before I got tired and started to feel cramped.

I liked to be able to be myself, and the real Kevin Porter was not the sort of person who drank alone at home.

The bar was fairly crowded, even for a Wednesday night, and I found a seat at the bar itself, settling on the stool and flagging down the bartender.

She smiled flirtatiously at me, like she usually did, and I winked back, putting extra in her tip jar when she slid me my gin and tonic.

I leaned on the polished surface of the bar, sipping at the drink for a bit before knocking the whole thing back. My eyes scanned the room, looking for anyone I knew or anyone who seemed to be out of place.

It was New York, and famous people were scattered all around the city, so there were always reporters and bloggers and whoever else lurking around, trying to get in people's business.

No one seemed to be paying me that much attention, so I waved the bartender over and ordered another.

"Flying solo tonight?" she asked, giving me that same smile. "Usually you're in here with all your friends."

"Just me, yeah," I said. "I've had a rough week."

"I can imagine," she replied. I frowned, but then remembered that everyone in the world had access to the shitty things my ex-wife was saying about me.

It hadn't seemed to put her off, though, which was promising. Or at least it would have been if I was looking for anything that night. Which I wasn't. I had my eye on a different prize, even if the bartender was the kind of leggy blonde that I usually went for without exclusion.

"Yeah, well," I said, shrugging a shoulder. "Shit happens."

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