Page 10 of Stealing It
Chapter Four
Magnolia
MY MARRIAGE DIDN’T DISINTEGRATE over time. It imploded in one, horrifying, self-actualizing moment. I had no idea Paul was unhappy—no blatant signals he was cheating on me. Sure, over time we settled into the comfortable familiarity of a worn-in relationship, but my mistake was thinking that was normal. Didn’t all couples say “hello” and “goodbye” and “what’s for dinner?” Isn’t the lack of passion and fire between two bodies bound to dwindle after years of the monotonous grind of running a family business and parenting a child? The simple answer? No. It shouldn’t. Ebbs and flows in a marriage are completely normal. Ebbing for years without ever feeling the rush of a flow is a proverbial death wish.I should have known.
The last year and a half of our marriage, he came home late almost every night when I knew the workload like the back of my hand and couldn’t find a reason for his tardiness. There wasn’t that much work to do after five P.M. Not by a long shot. But he kissed me square on the mouth, smiled, and asked me what was for dinner moments after coming through the door. Normal. I didn’t see the symptoms of chinks in our armor. I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for them. Paul’s affair is not my fault, I know that. That mistake lies squarely on his shoulders. Accepting a half-hearted offering of his loveis my fault.
I was naked, in the shower, when he busted into the bathroom to tell me Kendall caught him having sex with Pamela. He apologized so many times, his words eventually faded. I still had conditioner in my hair and only one leg was shaved. Par for the course though, a divorce feels like unfinished business even when it’s final. I shave that leg first now as if I can prevent my world from being rocked by keeping it smooth.
Sleeping isn’t an option. I will be up for the rest of the night. I can’t get Aidan’s face out of my mind. Or his body. Or the fact that my inner thighs are stinging from the stubble burn of his scruffy face hours later. My core clenches at the reminder of all of the orgasms he gave me with his mouth and fingers. He wouldn’t let me reciprocate the act and something about that makes me feel guilty. It also makes me feel all kinds of butterflies in my stomach. I lie awake in my king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the reasons my marriage would have never worked even if Paul hadn’t cheated. We had a child that connected us, but that doesn’t mean we had a connection. The real kind, one that sizzles and pops and causes an ache deep in your chest.
Recognizing that Aidan is a horrible man to fall for was made even clearer when Polly showed up at his door demanding…him. Other women desire him. It’s a risk to give anything except my body to Aidan Mixx, and yet I feel it happening, felt it happening all night long. Every touch held an unspoken promise of pleasure I know I’ll never tire of. More than his body and his touch were his words. He told me I was desirable. That I was worthy of his attentions. By claiming me as his girlfriend, even if the scenario is pretend, he’s affirming I’m good enough to be his and everyone around him can witness it. Warmth spreads through my body when I think of the words he said when he dropped me off at my front door.I’ve never wanted to call someone mine more.
Clutching the sheets, I roll to look out the window that overlooks the bay. I have a clear shot of his bright white condo complex lit with several megawatt lights that highlight the shoreline and docks. “You’re right there,” I say, realizing how this town got a touch smaller with the knowledge that I can look out my window and know he’s there. I wonder if he’s looking over here. I wonder if he’s awake. If he’s regretting our deal, or if he’s thinking about me. It’s hard to think he might be. I’m another woman in his laundry list of conquests, and he just joined an exclusive club formerly known as Paul’s. I’ll get used to it. I can do this. I blink a few times as my eyes get heavier. My cell phone’s dull glow signals a message. I grab it from my nightstand and unplug it from the charging cord. Aidan put his number in my phone before we left his house. His name flashes as his initials, AM.
His text reads, I can’t sleep.
I can’t sleep. Probably for different reasons though,I reply.
If not being able to get a chick out of your head is the reason you can’t sleep, then we’re on the same page.
I blush, and swallow hard, rolling to my back, the phone hovering over my face.You can’t stop thinking about me?
I never said it was you, Aidan texts back.
Oh, it’s Polly then? She was a bit feistier than I was.I fire back, grinning from ear to ear.
You’re full of jokes.
So are you, I reply.
Your body is all I can see when I close my eyes. Then my dick gets hard. Sleeping is impossible with a hard-on. In case you were unaware of that fact.
This is why sleepovers are nice. If you were next to me right now you could just roll over and game on.My core clenches again, and I flush, a reaction to merely thinking about Aidan naked and his attentions focused on me. I add,If it wasn’t obvious, I’m not good at dirty talk.
I need the opposite of dirty talk to calm myself down. What are you doing later?
Swallowing hard, I try to think where this is going. There is no way in hell Kendall can know I’m seeing someone regularly. She can know I’m dating casually, but to what extent needs to be a well-guarded secret. Kendall feeling secure, loved, and happy is what I will always focus on first and foremost.Kendall has a parade. It starts at Bronze Bay High School and goes through Main Street at lunchtime. I’m helping decorate the float in the morning. I’ll be dead to the world without sleep, but that’s what coffee is for, right?
Any plans for the evening?
I could be persuaded to accept plans for the evening.Kendall asked permission to sleep over at Jenny’s with Juliet so I have the night free.
A tour of Magnolia’s Steals? Then a walk on the beach? Cocktails in hand,Aidan texts.
Smiling, I reply,Are you hunting for any specific antique treasure?
I am.
Give me some details so I can look into my inventory beforehand.
Sculpted tail. I’m okay if it’s a little leaky. A smooth finish. Something that responds to only my touch, though.
Pressing my lips together, I try to stifle my laughter, but it resonates in my bedroom louder than it should.I think I might have something that fits that description. If not, I’m going to auction next week. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.
Auction?
You know, where people sell their old things? Typically, it is stuff left over from estate sales, or someone dies and has a house filled with treasures that their family is trying to sell off. I love a good auction.
