Page 61 of Dear Pink

I don’t argue as he strokes my sensitive spots. He’s more playful, less urgent as he grabs another condom. Pushing in, he keeps his eyes locked on mine, and it feels exquisite. This man’s skilled in the art of lovemaking. He touches me where I’m most sensitive. We come together quicker this time.

When our heart rates calm, he says, “I hate to sound cheesy but with you, sex is different. It feels like I’ve known you my entire life.”

I answer with a kiss.

He lifts me on top of him and holds me as we drift to sleep.

Chapter 17 - Gabe

Hannah invades my mind . . . her hot breath on my chest . . . her fingers digging into my back . . . her long neck arched . . . my name between gasps. I shake my head to clear the scene and almost run my bike into a fire hydrant. Get a grip. I can’t arrive late and bloody for another dinner.

Seeing her ex at Café 210 threw me. Of course, she has ex-boyfriends. Hannah’s beautiful, smart, and fun. Any man would be a fool to ignore her, but seeing another man vying for her attention sent a rush of jealousy through me.

My mind drifts to that asshat ready to fight me. I wish Jack was short, hairy, and covered in warts. Why couldn’t he have acne at the very least? He glared at me like he couldn't wait to tear me apart.

Hannah quickly stopped his nonsense. She doesn’t want her ex and spat those exact words in his face, but the jerk obviously hurt her. I clench my fists remembering the vulnerable expression on Hannah’s face. The image of him breaking her heart makes me want to punch his nose. Damn, I really like this woman.

I hop off my bike in front of Sushi Bowl and take a moment to calm down. While securing the lock to a railing, a red Maserati convertible parks at the valet stand, and Elise slinks out.

She’s unmistakable in a slip of a dress, her flaxen hair loose around her bare shoulders except for a few strands held with a jeweled clip. She’s a walking advertisement for artificial beauty. Why is the universe throwing our exes in our paths at every turn? Dealing with Elise wasn’t on my bingo card today.

I duck my head, hoping she won’t recognize me wearing my helmet, but it’s too late.

“Gabe darling, is thatyou?” Elise’s voice pitches at the end like she’s embarrassed for me, her personality in a nutshell. I constantly failed at fulfilling her Instagram boyfriend fantasy.

“Are you riding a bike? In this heat?” She scoffs and flips her hair.

“Yep.”

I didn’t own a bike when Elise and I were together. Only Instagram approved activities for us: sailing, diving, and surfing. In fact, almost every sanctioned activity included Elise in a string bikini.

“Well, that’s . . . cute,” she says with her face pinched in a grimace of pain.

A man in an impeccable three-piece suit throws his keys to the valet attendant and joins her. “Coming inside, my love?” he asks, placing his hand on the lower curve of her back and ignoring me altogether.

“Go ahead, Sebastian. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

I want to yell, “Go inside with him. We have nothing to say to each other,” but I stand there, a willing chump.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, blatantly inspecting my clothes. She frowns at my leather sneakers. Dipped in gold and diamonds is the only way a rubber-soled shoe would meet her approval.

“I have a date.”

“Oh, with that Holly girl?” Her lips twist into a condescending smirk.

“Her name is Hannah.”

“Whatever. Same thing.” She touches my arm. I flinch, but she keeps her hand there.

What does she want?

“I sawDallas Magazinepraised your clinic.”

And there’s my answer. The magazine recently named me “Top Urban Vet.” She must deem me worthy of her attention again.

“Those shots of you were gorgeous,” she says.

“Hannah’s inside. I better head in.” I try to wrestle out of her grip, but her fingers clench on my sleeve. She has incredible strength for a tall skinny waif.

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