Page 142 of Inflame

Angie leans into my ear. “I feel too old for this place.”

I smile. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Let’s go dancing instead,” she suggests.

“Where do you have in mind?”

“Some place less crowded and more our style. Incognito?”

“Sounds great.”

As we are about to exit the building, my eye catches Deena in the corner of the room—with Ethan nowhere in sight. Her eyes track my movement. She looks so out of place, and I wonder if she’s following me. Why else would she be here of all places?

Powering on my phone, I shoot her a text.

Claire: Quit stalking me.

It doesn’t take her long to check her phone and respond with her typical snark.

Deena: Stay away from my husband.

Claire: Ex-husband.

Deena: We are engaged, you home wrecker!

Claire: You must be delusional to think I’d ever want Ethan again. He’s damaged and there’s not a pussy on this planet—and that’s essentially all you are to him—that can fix that for him. But have fun trying. He loves having someone who he can control. I’m done. Tell your FIANCE to stop texting me.

Deena: Bitch

“What has you looking so satisfied?” Angie asks, as we get into the back of the vehicle.

Nic is his usual tense self. The man needs to loosen up a little. My little nonverbal spat with Deena is giving me a bigger pep in my step. Maybe some of my good mood will rub off on him.

“Oh, just the joy of sitting back and watching karma do her job.”

Angie looks at me with suspicion. “But you’re good?”

I shake my head. “Yeah. I’m great, actually.”

41

CLAIRE

In his sleep, I am able to get a better look at Nic’s features. His strong jawline. His five o’clock shadow. I am able to notice how he fills up over half the bed with his body. I mean, no woman ever would not find the muscular and uber-masculine man attractive. Must suck to be him.

With hesitation, I trace a finger along his cheekbone, around his lips, and then along the pulsing vein in his neck. I lean in and press my lips to his, savoring the softness.

I’m not surprised he is sound asleep. We stayed up way too late dancing and laughing. Turns out, Nic has some moves I haven’t seen before, and the sway of his hips on the dance floor almost caused me to come on the spot. It became our little game to sneak seductive moves whenever Angie would use the restroom or turn her back. I hate hiding things from my best friend, but it serves no good purpose for her to know that Nic and I are together—at least not until we make our relationship status official.

While we never hadthatconversation, I know that he isn’t seeing anyone else. We spend our working hours in the same building and our off hours together. Nic may not want a label, but to me, he is very much mine. A friend doesn’t rub your feet. A friend doesn’t turn the massage into back-to-back orgasms either. We have beenmorefor a while, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Having fun?” he asks sleepily, opening one eye and then the other.

I look down at my hands that are exploring his body. “Yup.”

“Glad I could meet your needs.”

“And then some. Now, go back to sleep, so I can keep admiring you before you say something to ruin it all.”

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