Page 14 of Trashy Foreplay

All too soon, we step into the airport. As we come to a stop near baggage claim, she darts a shy glance my way. “Do you have luggage you need to get?”

“No. I travel light whenever I can.”

Her eyes seem to dim, and I’m positive the polite curve of her lips is laced with sadness. “Well…I need to grab my luggage.” A beat passes, heavy with things left unspoken. “Thanks for keeping me from freaking out up there.”

“You’re welcome.”

She takes a tiny step backward, toward the baggage claim area. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” I force out, wanting to say more.

Like don’t go yet.

For a few stolen seconds, I imagine us getting coffee, or in her case tea, and talking the night away in a quiet corner of one of the airport cafes. And I pretend I’m not married, and Jules…

She didn’t just break the heart of someone who probably doesn’t deserve her.

I can’t see her cheating, but I’m pretty sure she did, and she’s torn to pieces over it. Regret is thick and rancid, and it’s wafting off her in fumes. It fucking reeks because it means she still wants him. She’s so shattered by what went down that she flew halfway across the country to escape it.

If Monica displays a tenth of that kind of regret, maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive her. That’s a big maybe. Regardless, I have no business feeling this way about someone I just met.

She shuffles her feet. “I should go.”

“Yeah.”

But neither of us move.

I tell myself to turn and head for the exit. To put an end to this crazy night. Instead, my feet eat up the few feet between us until we’re standing close enough to touch. “You asked me if I believe in fate.”

“Do you?” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Until tonight, I didn’t.”

“But you do now?”

“I think so.” Curling my fingers around the nape of her neck, I lean down and brush my lips across her cheek. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Jules.” I pull away, and her eyes are huge and bright with an unmistakable sheen. Before those orbs pull me under, I turn on my heel and walk away without looking back.

5. Three Simple Rules - Jules

We’re a couple miles up the highway before Lesley’s maniac driving pulls me from my sexy stranger induced stupor. My cheek still radiates heat from the spot where he kissed me. I remember how his hand felt at the nape of my neck, and how the rugged scent of him made my head swim. I grow warm between the thighs just thinking about it.

“How was your flight?” Les asks, her voice instantly landing me back in reality.

“It was okay.”

And terrifying and exhilarating—an experience I wish I could do over again, just to see him one more time.

“You sound exhausted,” she says, swerving around a slower moving vehicle.

I grip my seat as she zips up Interstate 5 in her VW Bug. She’s gotta be doing twenty over. Traffic isn’t too heavy, but the scattered cars sharing the five-lane highway are moving along at a steady pace. Lesley races around them like she’s a professional driver on a closed course.

“Any chance we can get there in one piece?” I ask, only halfway ribbing her.

“Have you lost faith in my driving?” She quirks an indignant brow at me, but amusement plays on her dark-painted lips. Pink streaks her black locks. Her style has always been on the punkish side, and she’s embraced it here in Seattle.

“I think I’m still on edge from the flight.”

“Thought you said the flight was alright.”

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