Page 34 of Texting My Valentine

Tori:You’re really gung ho about this ‘love’ thing, aren’t you?

Alex:No.

I lie. I can’t let her know I’ve been secretly wanting and searching, convinced it would never work out until we began texting.

One walk on the beach with her means more than a full-fledged date with any other woman ever could.

Alex:You’re too young to think there’s no such thing as love, Tori.

Tori:We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about the character.

Alex:If I were there, I’d make you admit the truth: this is about you. You’re the only one who thinks love is a lie.

Tori:You’d make me, huh? How would you persuade me?

My body stirs. My steel aches and grows hot. Is she trying to take this where I think she is?

I close my eyes and imagine her in bed. No, sittingonthe bed so I can get a greedy look at her thick thighs in some PJ shorts. In the fantasy, she’s wearing a tank top, no bra, her nipples pokingthrough the material, tempting me to suck them, first through the fabric until she’s wriggling and begging, then I’ll tear down her shirt, reveal her nakedness, suck until her toes are curling with a soul-searing orgasm.

Only then will I move on to the rest of her delectable body.

Alex:I’d bring you to the edge, Tori, and make you tell me before I let you topple over.

Tori:Hmm… What kind of edge are we talking about?

Alex:The edge you bring me to any time I think about your voluptuous, tempting legs. The edge you’ve brought me to right now as I imagine gliding my hands over your body.

Tori:Where on my body?

My balls throb, lust flooding into me, surging up my stiff pole.

Alex:Anywhere I damn well…

I stop typing when Elliot screams.

Leaping to my feet, I run through the house and burst into his bedroom. He’s sitting upright, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks.

“Daddy?” he says, staring at me. He shudders as he takes me in and realizes I’m not his father. “Uncle Alex. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I tell him, approaching the bed. “Bad dream?”

He nods, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll go back to sleep.”

I kneel next to the bed. It’s been two years since the crash and far longer since the betrayal, and I’m nowhere near as close to my nephew as I should be. I realize that sometimes, and it hurts. I can blame work all I want, but I know other forces are at play, too.

“What do you want to do, Elliot? I can tell you don’t want to go back to sleep.”

“Can we maybe build a little of the Death Star?” he murmurs. “Just until I forget my dream?”

“Sure we can, buddy.”

I stay with Elliot for the next hour, then return to the bedroom.

Alex:Sorry, Tori. Elliot had a nightmare.

Predictably, she doesn’t reply.

CHAPTER 11

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