Page 30 of Whispered Sins

One night, after a long day at work, I poured myself a glass of red wine and watched it slosh up the sides of the glass. As I went to sit on the couch and wrap myself up in a cozy blanket, my normal weeknight routine, a thought occurred to me. I checked the date on my phone and a feeling of unease crept over me like a fog rolling in.

I quickly grabbed my phone and opened my Google calendar. I went back through the weeks and panic set in. There was a missing red calendar day. It couldn’t be. I quickly went through the weeks again, frantically swiping with my fingertip. I stopped and stared at my phone before sucking in a slow, shaky breath as the realization hit me.

I had missed my period.

Chapter 12

Daniel

I took a sip of black coffee that sat steaming in the mug on my desk. The heat swished to the back of my tongue and down my throat as I willed for the caffeine to enter my system at a rapid pace. I rubbed my eyes and leaned back in my desk chair. I was exhausted.

Going out with Freddy last night had been a bad idea, especially with the slew of work meetings I had lined up for the day. I wasn’t thinking. I was desperate for some sort of distraction from the strange void that formed since my night with Addison.

Our night together was all I thought about for the past month. Having her made me hungry for more, and made everything else I had tasted in the past seem dull and flavorless. What transpired that night at the bar, on my couch, in my bed—it was reckless abandon. I had become completely lost in her, and her in me. Or so I thought.

She had left without a word the next morning, which would normally put my mind at ease. I didn’t have to have the inevitable conversation of, “You’re really great, but I’m not looking for anything serious.” Or the awkward feeling when I want them to leave, but they were just not getting the hint. That was the worst. That’s if they were even lucky to stay over, which was rare.

That night, I had gone to bed with my arms wrapped around Addison, and I wasn’t a cuddler. For some reason, no matter which way I had her into the late hours of the night, I needed more. My hands were desperate to touch her smooth skin. My lungs needed to breathe her in. Vanilla and beads of sweet sweat. She fell asleep pressed against me, and her quiet, steady breathing somehow lulled me to sleep, even though I was ready to go for a fourth helping.

When I rolled over, already aroused and hoping to go again, I found my bed empty. I was humbled to realize she had left sometime in the early morning hours. To say it wasn’t a blow to my pride would be a lie. I should have felt on top of the world. I had conquered my conquest. Challenge completed. Instead of feeling like a winner, I couldn’t help feeling at a loss.

For someone who was so high on her pedestal of not being “that type of girl,” she made it clear that what happened between us was a one-time thing. I had never been on that side of it before. I’d had plenty of one-night stands. Hell, that was all I’d really ever had. But I was usually the one to leave. Being left was foreign to me.

When I got to the office that morning, I had an email at the top of my inbox. I quickly opened it when I saw it was from Leading to Learn. I assumed it was Addison with some sort of excuse as to why she left, but it was quite the opposite. She had passed our business deal off to a coworker named Shelley. I didn’t want Shelley. I wanted Addison. And I thought I had made that clear, but that was before I had learned what she tasted like. I had broken my own rule of not mixing business with pleasure.

After that email. I grew annoyed. Instead of fighting for her, I took the hint and handed the deal to one of my foundation members. If she didn’t want anything to do with me, then I wanted nothing to do with her. That was my pride taking over.

And it was that same pride that had kept me from reaching out to her, and instead went searching for something, someone, to replace what I felt with her that night. Turned out, pure ecstasy wasn’t exactly easy to come by.

My night out with Freddy last night was filled with predictable women who didn’t spark my interest or my arousal. We had gone to a new club opening. Bottle service. Cocktail waitresses in barely-there uniforms. Women in tight dresses eager to get a free drink with shameless flirting and dancing that was more dry humping than rhythmic.

I sat in our booth probably looking miserable as I sipped on straight vodka.

“What is up with you, man?” asked Freddy as a redhead slung her arm around his neck. Her friend was sidled up beside me, her legs thrown over mine. I didn’t remember her name. I didn’t care.

I shrugged, looking down into my drink. Usually, my hands would be up this girl’s short skirt already, but instead my fingers stayed wrapped around my cocktail glass. It wasn’t like I wanted to be like this. I couldn’t help it.

“Is it work?” asked Freddy.

I shook my head.

“Brody?”

“Nah.”

“Is it a woman?” he asked with a tone of disbelief.

I felt the blonde shoot me a look.

“You’re joking, right?” I asked with a sarcastic laugh. I wrapped my arm around the blonde, hoping it would be enough to hide that he had figured me out.

It didn’t work. His eyes widened as he leaned in close, the redhead slipping onto his lap like some sort of barnacle.

“Holy shit, man. Who is she?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

“It’s no one, Freddy.”

“Is it that girl from the bar? Big tits? Dark hair? Black dress one size too small?”

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