Page 1 of Contingently Yours
CHAPTER 1
Andrew
Why do I hear noise? It cannot possibly be anywhere near ten a.m.
Cracking an eye open, the light coming from my bathroom strains my cornea. A curvy, toweled figure with a pleased smile emerges. She saunters past the end of the bed, flaunting her state of consciousness. Devil woman. It’s like she knows she woke me up and is proud of it.
“Ugh. Why are you mobile? Sleep time,” I mumble with my lips squished against my pillow and close my eyes again. “Still…sleep time.”
An ethereal laugh and the soft steps of feet against the carpeting tell me she’s gathering her clothing and ignoring the important fact I’ve just voiced. Sleepovers are not supposed to be interrupted by early risers.
“Not everyone has the luxury of working for their family,” comes Veronica’s teasing reply. “Some people’s work days start before noon.”
Grunting, I ignore her bitterness disguised as mockery and roll onto my back. Flexing my toes, I yawn and run my hand down my stomach under the covers, trying to coax my body back to sleep.
“Come back to bed,” I murmur, unsticking my cock from my thigh and giving it a good morning stroke. “You make more money than I do. You can miss a day.”
“I don’t think you need me,” she chuckles. “Looks like you’ve got yourself covered.”
Opening both eyes now, I locate her on her way back to the bathroom. Snickering, she stops by my dressers and flashes an accusatory look at the outline of my fist where it’s underneath the comforter.
Yeah, my hand is on my dick, but that doesn’t mean anything. I just wanted to snuggle. Snuggle and sleep.
“I had an itch.”
More laughter. Dropping her towel, she brandishes a clean pair of underwear from her purse like it’s a Giving Tree and shimmies into them. “Drew, I’ve never seen anyone touch their cock as much as you do. I’m not even sure why you call me.”
“What?” My hand freezes on the cock in question, but I realize doing so probably makes me look guilty when I have nothing to feel guilty about. “That’s not what... I just don’t like it sticking to my thigh first thing in the morning. You’d know this if you wouldn’t get out of bed at an unreasonable hour,” I grouse. Closing my eyes again, I give myself a comforting stroke. “Someone’s clearly salty because they didn’t get enough sleep and are trying to take it out on me now.”
Her chuckle is subdued this time. I hear the shift of more clothing and then the clip of heels on my bathroom flooring.
Jeez. She really is leaving. She’s a sadist.
Playing possum, I still my hand on my cock as I hear her approach. Soft lips grace my forehead, and her lilac scent wafts over me. Just as she starts to move back, I snake my free arm around her waist and tug her closer.
“You know, I’m kind of awake now after all that noise someone made.”
Laughing, she presses a hand to my chest. “Sorry, Sleeping Beauty, but I have to go. I’m leaving for Brussels tomorrow and have to pack.”
All pretenses and realities of being sleep deprived evaporate on that info bomb. My eyes flare open, taking in her long auburn locks spilling over her shoulders and the unflappable look on her face. Is she serious?
“Brussels? For how long?”
“Two months, I think.”
“Two months? What am I supposed to do for two months?”
It’s not until the words are out and Veronica’s head rears back with a curious look on her face that I realize how monogamous that sounded. Monogamous and desperate. I am neither, by any means.
“Uh…the same thing we’ve always done?”
I know she’s referring to our no-strings-attached arrangement, but she’s never been out of the country for that long. And, truth be told, I honestly can’t remember the last time I slept with another woman. Made out, sure. A few oral exchanges, yeah. But sex… Well, I think it’s been a little over a year since I’ve dipped my nib in another pool. What can I say—I’m happy with our dynamic. It’s easy and requires no effort. I tell her when I’m in town, we meet up, and vice versa. Convenience at its finest. Her leaving for two months is going to be highly inconvenient.
Glancing at my recent birthday gift from my parents, I see that it’s only just after nine. Veronica is so being a dick getting up this early and dumping this news on me, but it’s not the time that annoys me as much as it is the sight of my gift. I’m officially thirty-five as of last week. I’m starting to feel…old. Not like arthritis and I-need-a-back-pill old, but the kind of old that makes a guy reconsider his routines.
Most of the women I meet anymore are much younger than me, and while I enjoy a night of rolling under the covers, it kind of kills the mood when they tell you you’re hot for an older man.
‘Older man.’
