Page 13 of A Love That Broke Us
Shit.Just hearing her say it—when we have sex—sends a spark straight to my dick. I don’t want her to leave, don’t want to stop what we’ve started, but knowing that she wants it, that she wants me, and that she wants it to be uninterrupted? It makes me so damn excited for when it happens.
“Okay,” I say with a grin. “I can handle that. I want that too.” I kiss her again, lingering just long enough to make her smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for Matt’s birthday party?”
Matt’s throwing a massive thirtieth birthday bash at his penthouse. His parties are always epic, and tomorrow will be no exception. I invited Alley because I’m more than ready to introduce her to my friends, and if I’m being honest, I’d rather focus on her than fend off the inevitable attention from half the women there. Let’s face it, I’m not interested. Matt’s probably sacked half the guest list anyway.
She nods. “Of course. I’m planning on it. I’m excited to meet him and your friends.”
“Alright, great. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” I ask, even though I already know her answer.
She shakes her head. “That’s dumb. Why would you come all the way out to me just to head right back here? I’ll meet you here, and then we can go together.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
I walk her to the door, stealing one last kiss before she goes, leaving me with my cock hard and only one solution to the problem.
Chapter Five
ALLEY
THEN
“Crap,”I mutter, glaring at my reflection and wishing for a roommate, or an extra arm. My fingers fumble with the zipper at the back of my dress, one hand reaching awkwardly over my shoulder while the other tries to shove the fabric up. It’s the last inch. The one spot that’s impossible to reach no matter how flexible you are.
I jump up and down, as if somehow that will magically fix the problem. Desperation makes you do stupid things. Finally, my fingers catch the zipper and tug it into place with a satisfying zip. Relief washes over me as I look at myself in the mirror, the earlier frustration melting away.
Victory.
Slipping on my heels I head over to the full-length mirror in the corner of my studio apartment, working to fasten my earrings as I walk. If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late. I smooth my hands over my dress, pausing to glance at myself. I look good—nothing too flashy, but good enough to feel confident.
The dress code is cocktail attire, and my trusty little black dress never lets me down. It’s short, hitting mid-thigh, and paired with myheels, it gives the illusion of longer legs. My hair is having a rare perfect day, styled in soft, messy beach waves that fall just past my shoulders.
I take a deep breath. Damn. I’m nervous.
I’m meeting Jensen’s friends—his best friend, at that. From what he’s told me about Matt, the party will be filled with wealthy, gorgeous women. The kind who turn heads without trying. I know that. But I can’t let it intimidate me.
I may not be model-gorgeous or come from money, but I can hold my own. Jensen is into me, and that’s what matters. He makes me feel beautiful. More than anyone ever has.
I smile, giving myself one last once-over before grabbing my coat. I thread my arms through the sleeves, grab my purse, and step out the door.
I called an Uber. I didn’t feel like dealing with taxis or the subway from Astoria at this time of night on a Saturday. Plus, it’s stupid cold outside, and the idea of walking any farther than the curb to Jensen’s building door is a hard pass.
Sliding into the backseat, I’m grateful my driver’s in his own world, singing along to the radio. I settle in, my gaze shifting to the window as my thoughts drift to yesterday morning. A smile creeps across my face. Lordy, making out with Jensen was hot. So damn good. And his body? Those abs, that deep V, the faint veins trailing down his hips—holy hell. I get tingly just thinking about it.
I can’t even remember the last time I felt this way about someone. It’s been a while. This is technically only the sixth time I’ve seen Jensen. Well, seventh if I count our coffee shop run-in. No, scratch that—eighth, if I also count the day he woke up from anesthesia.
A small laugh escapes my lips, thankfully drowned out by the music. Oh, boy. That moment when Jensen was waking up from the drugs? Hilarious. I’ve seen my fair share of weird things in PACU, but Jensen coming down from his high was unforgettable. Mumbling about some hot blonde woman and how he wanted to taste her lips again. And then the boner—oh my God.
I wasn’t lying when I told him it’s normal to have an erection aftersurgery. It happens all the time. But most men don’t laugh about it—or blurt out that they’ve got one. God, me and Cindy weredying.
I redirect my thoughts back to yesterday. Was I really ready to go all the way with him?
Yeah.
I think I was.
I trust him. And trust is, hands down, the most important thing to me in a relationship. I’m attracted to him, he makes me laugh, he’s kind, and he makes me feel like a million bucks.
