Page 12 of Finding Out

Deciding I’d rather be safe than sorry, I opened the United app next and requested a call from the airline. After a bit of begging, I was able to get our tickets transferred so we’d be in first class on the two-o’clock flight to Boston. Then, with a few keystrokes, I locked in a late checkout with the virtual concierge.

Twenty minutes later, the shower was no longer running, but I still hadn’t seen Tom. My stomach was growling so loudly I was surprised he couldn’t hear it through the wall. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have waited around for him. I would have accepted Kline’s offer for dinner. He was probably eating alone, while I was standing around, pathetically hoping the surly man I’d accompanied all day would want to eat with me.

What the hell was I doing?

With a shake of my head, I unlocked my phone once again.

Me: Want to grab food?

Kline: At the bar next door already. I saved you a chair.

I scratched out a quick note and then left Tom to his own devices.

I was an asshole.Groaning at my reflection, I ran my hand over my damp hair. The second Wren had wrapped her arms around me in what was nothing more than a congratulatory hug, my body had ignited. It had burned with want, with desperation, with frustration.

And I needed an outlet.

I stretched my fingers and snapped them back into tight fists. This frustrating limbo was unfamiliar to me. When I wanted something, I created a plan and I went after it. All I ever needed was patience and a solid strategy. Thus far, I’d found that with enough work, I’d get what I wanted.

Except for Wren. There wasn’t a plan in the world that would get me where I wanted to be when it came to her. Every moment in the last year that I’d spent with Wren pushed me to want more. Denying myself the opportunity to hear her voice or make her smile or touch her felt more and more impossible by the day. Like trying to free myself from quicksand, the more I fought, the deeper I sank. Was it so awful to want something for me? The man, not the coach not thefather. But Tom.

Was it wrong of me to want someone for myself?

Desire once again burned through me. I could almost see myself sliding my hands up her body as I slipped inside her.

The images flashed through my head, and my dick twitched to life.

I gritted my teeth. I was not fourteen. I had control. It was the mantra that I’d repeated while I’d taken a cold shower, attempting to snap myself out of this mood. Because I was not fucking my hand in the shower because I was horny.

The buzz of my phone on the dresser had me pushing off my bed. Leo’s name popped up once, then again. Although I wasn’t in the mood, I swiped over to my best friend’s message.

Leo: Poker. My place.

Leo: Wifey is doing book club and she dropped the kids at the in-laws. I’m a free man for the next four hours.

I chuckled. The asshole had no interest in being a free man. He was just a fucking drama king.

Me: In NYC, bro.

Leo: No shit? Work or play?

I couldn’t claim I was here for work, because if he was texting me, then he was texting Collin, my assistant coach, for poker too.

Me: Play

Leo: Niiice. Hopefully she can pull that stick out of your ass.

Me: GIF of the middle finger

Leo: Haha. Enjoy your date. The storm is supposed to be pretty intense. Maybe you’ll get to stay and spend another day in bed. Wink emoji

I swallowed, willing the image of Wren above me to disappear. It was no use, and it was soon accompanied by another. This time of her below me, my hands running along her body, my dick sliding between her gorgeous thighs. My cock thickened, throbbing at the idea.

My phone buzzed again, snapping me out of it. With a harsh breath in, I forced myself to focus on Leo’s message.

Leo: Heath just got here. He says have fun on your sex weekend.

I winced. Jesus. If he had any idea who I was with, he’d be singing a completely different tune. But wait. A moment of rational thought managed to get through my sex haze, even if I wasn’t here with Wren…

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