Page 101 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Lucas: That’s too bad. Because I was just thinking about that time in the woods.

I pull a throw pillow onto my lap and let my mind wander back to the moment he’s referring to. We were on one of our walks. I saw Lucas adjusting himself in his shorts, and I got horny. So horny in fact that I pulled him behind a grouping of trees off the path and told him to put his hand down my pants. Fifteen seconds later, I was done and returned the favor in what he said was one of the best hand jobs he’d ever had.

Probably because of the excitement over the fear of being caught.

Aaaaaaaand, now I’m hot and bothered again.

Crap.

Lucas: Come on, Ray. You know you want to. Just thinking about that day has me hard. And if you don’t come over, I’m going to have to take things—and bythings, I mean my cock—into my own hands.

Oh my god. Now I’m imagining him touching himself.

I squirm right here on the couch.Just ignore him.Ignore him and go to bed and get out a Lucas replacement toy.

My chest heaves. Because there’s a little voice in the back of my head that assures me thereisno replacement for him.

Lucas: Regan? Are you there? I’m dangerously close to getting myself off. Do you really want to miss the party?

Warmth spreads throughout my body. My clit is already engorged. I’m almost thrumming with arousal. Maybe I could go over. Just this once. One last time.

Lucas told me that when he quit smoking, he finished off his pack, smoked them all, got one last nicotine high, and went cold turkey. That’s all this would be. One last high before I quit. Quit him.

I spring up off the couch. And as I text him back, I wonder how one can be so sad and so turned on at the very same time.

Me: I’ll come to your back entrance.

Lucas: See you soon. And, Ray, maybe I’ll come at YOUR back entrance.

The thought of it. Of him. Of everything we’ve done together. All the wild and crazy things neither of us had ever done before. All of it makes me crave more. More of him. More of us.

I’m down the stairs and in Ava’s car before I can talk myself out of it.

Every bump in the road along the way—every picture in my head of what he’s going to do to me—increases my excitement. By the time I’m pulling up to the back parking lot, I question whether or not I’m even going to make it to his apartment. Maybe he’ll get down on his knees and make me come in the elevator like he did last week.

Not helping.

I let out a guttural groan of frustration. Then I laugh, wondering if this is what it’s like for hormonal teenage boys who are perpetually horny.

I park and am out the door in a rush, quickly striding to the rear entrance. In perfect synchronization, as some of our orgasms have been, he flings the door open and smiles. Almost immediately, though, it falls, replaced by a grimace.

Has he changed his mind?

Then I realize he’s not looking at me. He’s lookingbehindme.

I spin and see a beautiful, vaguely familiar woman approaching. “Mr. Montana,” she practically sings. Then she looks at me. “And Ms. Lucas. What a pleasure.”

This lady knows who I am? And what’s up with the sinister grin on her face?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lucas barks.

“Lucas?” I say. “What’s going on?”

“That’s Sylvia Franco. From the news. She’s one of the reporters who was hanging out for weeks trying to get my story after Lissa got engaged.” He moves to stand in front of me, almost protectively. “I thought you’d given up months ago. Why are you stalking me again? I saw the pictures. I know she got married. And I couldn’t care less. There, that’s my statement—I couldn’t care less if Lissa rides off into the sunset with the senator’s son and lives happily ever after.”

Sylvia smiles. “Why is that, Mr. Montana? Is it because you’ve moved on with Ms. Lucas?”

Lucas fumes. “It’s none of your fucking business what I’ve moved on to. Please leave.”

---