Page 24 of The Pucking Grump

I crossed the line. The moment she wrapped herself in the towel, I knew it. I don’t even know what I said to cause the amount of hurt I saw in her eyes. The previous ten minutes had been a blur of me staring at luminous skin and reining back every single urge in me. I’m barely aware of what we talked about, especially anything that was said when she started to squeeze her tits. The image of her breasts spilling from that damned yellow bikini will forever be etched into my mind.

But I hurt her. Really bad. While Faye Strummer is about the most aggravating woman in existence, I don’t get off on seeing her that way.

I have to fix it. Hence this call.

“Pretty much.”

Ken lets out a bark of laughter that makes me appreciate the foresight of asking him to leave the room Reggie and Alex were in before I spilled the beans to him.

“Okay,” he says. “This might be the most obvious question, but I’m going to ask you anyway. Why don’t you just fuck her? Is she not pretty?”

My throat tightens by an inch.

Why don’t you just fuck her?

I’ve got about a million reasons.

Because she is Faye Strummer, and messing with her means I will get dropped into one of her songs.

Because she believes in love to a sickening degree, and she might conflate my desire for her into something more.

My stomach ticks with guilt. Those are valid reasons, but I know damn well that they aren’t the top two. So, I force myself to be completely honest.

Because I’m dead set on not letting her win this little tug-of-war we have going on.

Because she is still broken from her failed wedding, and I’m not comfortable being anyone’s rebound.

Because I want her so damn bad, I’m not sure that I will ever be able to stop once I have a taste of her.

Because we have only a few days left together, and I won’t be able to deal with her walking away from me after I have made her mine.

Because exploring the object of the deepest desire I have known all my life means exposing myself to something more, perhaps something I have convinced myself does not exist.

My jaw clenches.

There. That last one. That’s the real reason.

Admitting that to Ken is synonymous with placing my head on a guillotine, though. So, I settle for another reasonable explanation.

“Oh, she’s very pretty. But that’s not the point. I just don’t want to.”

Ken lets out a disbelieving grunt.

“You don’t have to buy it if you don’t want to, but I need your advice,” I spit at him. Turning back toward the cabin, I verify that Faye isn’t close by, listening in. I took the phone with the long cord and stepped out as far as possible from the house to make sure I’d have some privacy.

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. You’ve never called me—or anyone else—about a girl before. Now, I’m supposed to believe you don’t want to sleep with her even though you care about her feelings enough to actually start this painful conversation? Trust me, this conclusion is the best you can hope for.”

“What’s the other explanation?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

I want to punch him. “I’m not in love with her.”

“Good. So, she’s pretty, she’s asking you nicely. Just do it.”

“I can’t,” I spit through gritted teeth. “There’s a lot going on. Any suggestions on how to apologize?”

Ken seems even more amused. Thankfully, he takes it in stride. “Well, I guess you could make a grand gesture.”

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