Page 42 of The Book Signing

For a second, I am taken aback by her question. But then I realize that she’s spot on.

“I have a move. Funnily enough, it’s both, just depending on context,” I blurt. Her reaction, though, is not what I expected.

“Ah, I see. I know the feeling of trying to creep out of the bedroom, too. After a string of menleaving me without a goodbye, even though my brain,” she taps her head, “kept on reminding me it wasn’t gonna happen. My heart always hoped for more. Then I toughened up and reversed the situation, so I was the one that left before they could get a word out.”

“What if a guy was actually going to ask you to stay for breakfast, or to meet up again? You would have been giving up those chances.” I widen my eyes as disbelief runs through me at the words that just left my mouth.

Dude, you really got to learn how to filter thoughts before talking.

Abigail chuckles and shrugs. “Oh, please. Jaxon, did you ever offer breakfast? Or ask the same woman to see you again?”

I nod, realizing she has a point. “Okay. Touché.”

She snickers at the retort. “Anyway, so, now this happened.” She gestures between my dick and her crotch. “What next?” I sit up, about to open my mouth, but she interrupts me. “Wait, no. Don’t answer. I don’t want to relive my slutty days. I hated hearing those words.”

Abigail then rolls over and gets herself out of bed. “I’ve got work to do. My agent is on my back, and I need to focus on writing.” She quickly picksup her clothes from the floor and dresses with a speed that amazes me. Once she’s fully clothed, Abigail walks over to my side of the bed and leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Tonight was amazing, Jaxon. I tried to fight you but, well, clearly, I lost.” She clears her throat and then adds, “I’m going to be busy tomorrow with the third round of the Writers Festival but will be at the breakfast buffet. Let me know if you want to join.”

“Sure,” the words leave my mouth, watching her scramble around to find her purse, then walk out the door with a cute wave.

I’m left with this unusual sense of frustration that Abigail left me so quickly. She left me speechless, unlike a situation ever before. I didn’t know what else to say. My tongue was in knots, and I’m left feeling irritated because there wasn’t a chance to see if she’s fine. Or, well, up for another round. I wanted to ask if she was interested in ordering room service, so we could continue our dessert that we abruptly left behind. Instead, she left me gawping. And Jason Sunters doesnotgawp. He does not get left behind.

Annoyance surges through me as I sit naked under the covers without Abigail and wonder if this is how I made women feel after running out the door. Oh, so many times.

Chapter Twenty-One

ABIGAIL

Another damn walk of shame. I might as well burn my book.

My thoughts flow through as I rush to my room, conscious of people looking at me, hoping they aren’t mirroring my own thought processes.

As soon as I enter, I drop my purse onto the mattress and go to the bathroom. I lean my arms on the sink and stare at the mirror. Disappointed in its reflection.

“You succumbed. After so long of trying to be the better person, you ended up havingamazing sex with a man who is not right for you. He may be nice and charming, but not the long-lasting sort of man.”

But he really seemed genuine during dinner, and I saw a flicker of disappointment when I was dressing and leaving his room.

With a deep exhale, I grab my toothbrush, squeeze on some toothpaste, and brush my teeth. I let go of the toothbrush and keep it in my mouth as I quickly undress—multitasking pro — and then once I’m naked; I spit out the toothpaste. With a quick gargle, I step into the shower, turning the knobs to a hot temperature.

The tingles it gives me as it hits my back are an inviting sensation, and I have a flashback to how wonderful the night was with Jaxon. Dinner, dessert–well, some of it–and then powerful foreplay, followed by intense sex.

“Damn you, Jaxon,” I mumble and then turn down the temperature to cold. “So much for a nice, hot shower.”

*

I wake the next morning feeling fresh, despite the quick cold shower I had before packing my suitcase and then passing out on the bed. Let’s not forget to include the feverish dream I had, too.Today is the last day of the North Queensland Writer’s Festival too, and I want to do a good job, especially covering up my hypocrisy after last night.

No one needs to know.

Today, I promise myself to be optimistic that it will go without a hitch. I will do my best to have a mind frame of how last night helped me blow off months and months of sexual frustration and tension. Not stew over my weakness of the man called Jaxon.

I have a quick shower, add some hair spray to keep it in place and put on a decent amount of natural makeup finished with tight jeans and a low cut, yellow top.

I glance around the room, noting anything that I might have missed whilst packing. Once everything is clean, and I’m satisfied with the way it looks, I sit down on the bed and put on a pair of black heels. They’re my favorite and I feel like today is the perfect day to wear them. I check my phone to see the battery life, but when I see the time, I jump up and grab my purse and walk out, closing the door.

As I stand outside the room, I feel the hot hair touch my skin and already know that I will miss the heat. For a second, my shoulders sag withdisappointment that I’ll soon be off to Chicago. Back to reality.

Food first, then mope about leaving this warm bubble.

---