Page 116 of One Big Little Secret

My nostrils flare, tickled by that light citrusy cinnamon scent that’s all Salem.

Before her, I never realized any woman could smell so good.

Everything about her feels like a formula patented to trigger every dormant bad habit I have.

Six years ago was long enough to start forgetting before she walked into The Cardinal.

But now—now, I’m stuck here and my dick knows what it wants to do about this.

About this proximity.

About us, with every inch of this disgustingly large bed to defile.

She shifts in her sleep, and I half hope she’ll wake up.

Not because I want her to move, but because I don’t know what will happen if she doesn’t.

Don’t think about that, you upside-down fuckhound.

Think unsexy thoughts.

IRS audits.

Dexter’s kale lunch wraps.

Arlo putting his sticky little hands all over my aquarium, smudging up my precious view.

Then she turns her face closer to mine.

The night changes to dusk, just enough to make out her silhouette in detail. I can’t tell if she’s having a pleasant dream or a nightmare. All I know is that if her leg moves up any higher, she’ll encounter something I can’t plan for.

My cock jerks, anticipating her touch, her heat.

Then she whimpers something that sounds an awful lot like my name and the entire world stops.

Holy Mother of God.

This is it.

I’m dead.

Done.

If she’s dreaming aboutme…

Of course, she could be dreaming about anything, but the way her voice sounded—well, I’ve heard her sound this way once before.

Six years ago.

I force myself to play like I’m as dead as I feel while she sleeps on beside me, every inch of me screaming to give in to a terrible mistake.

There’s no chance I’m falling back asleep before my alarm goes off.

And I can’t fathom how I’ll survive three more nights of this sleepless tease, silently self-destructing next to the only woman I can’t have.

15

LUCKY NIGHT (SALEM)

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