Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to be serious with anyone else, Octavia.” I grabbed my strawberry-banana smoothie and finished it off.
“So you don’t plan on dating or getting married ever again?” she asked, hand on her hip.
I cocked a brow. “Do you?”
She pointed a stern finger at me. “You don’t get to do that! You know I hate dating.” She visibly shuddered. “Such a waste of time.”
I smirked.
“You can’t say you haven’t at least thought about it,” my sister went on. “At least a quick fuck or a fuck-buddy type of thing.”
I tossed my empty smoothie cup into the trash bin. “You know, before he died, Lewis told me I could move on and find love again. He said I deserved to be happy.” I looked into my sister’s eyes, giving my head a light shake. “But I just don’t see how that’s possible when he’s the one who made me feel that way.”
“Aw. Sis.” Octavia set her cup down and walked to me. When she wrapped her arms around me, I rested my cheek on her shoulder. “But how will you ever know what else makes you happy if you don’t give it a chance?”
“It’s too soon.”
“Well, why not go back to what I said and just fuck the basketball player? Nothing else has to happen.”
I huffed a laugh. “I can tell Deke wants something more than that from me. There’s this look in his eye . . . a longing. I don’t think I can give him what he’s looking for.”
“Let me ask you this. Have you fucked anyone since Lew died?”
“Oh my—what?” I pulled away from her, flabbergasted. “Why is that your business?”
“I’m just asking!”
I turned away and busied myself with turning on the faucet and washing some of the dirty dishes. There was no way I was about to answer that. The answer was embarrassing, to say the least.
No, I hadn’t slept with anyone. The last time Lewis and I did anything was months before he passed, right before his cancer became worse. I hate saying it, but I could hardly remember what that last time with him was like. His head was somewhere else, and he was already losing his confidence.
I had to be honest with myself, though. I did miss sex. When Lew was sick, my vibrator was my best friend, but vibrators can only do so much for a woman.
What I really craved was intimacy. I wanted to be owned, pleased, to submit to a man . . . and the thought had crossed my mind that Deke could be the person to dominate me. But having sex with Deke Bishop wouldn’t have been right unless that was all it was for him too. Just sex.
Octavia got a FaceTime call from our little brother, Abe, and dropped the conversation, much to my relief. After chatting with Abe, taking a shower, and checking a few work emails, I ventured back to the string of emails I shared with Deke.
His last one really got to me. Every fiber inside me wanted to respond just to let him know he was doing absolutely nothing wrong. He literally was doing everything right, but I didn’t deserve that. All that time and energy he was investing in me would be for naught, and he needed more than that.
I figured if I stopped emailing and being so personal, then he’d get the point and move on. It’d been three days now, and he hadn’t sent any more, so perhaps the message was received.
That night, I lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. I had my vibrator fully charged and grasped in hand, my eyes closed, and memories of my husband on my mind.
I thought about all the good times we shared, all the amazing sex we had before he was diagnosed, his beautiful face and soulful eyes. How deeply connected we felt when he was inside me.
I closed my eyes and moaned as I started the vibrator and placed it between my thighs, clinging to that feeling, but the closer I got to coming, the more his face changed.
His skin became darker, his jawline sharper, and his eyes lowered to calm, downward slits. The hazel shifted to deep brown, and the hairless face was covered in scruff.
I sucked in a breath, scrambling for that image of Lewis again, searching for it behind my eyelids, but it was gone. It’d been replaced by the man I was trying desperately hard to avoid.
I. Was. Imagining. Deke. Bishop.
I wanted to stop—to bring this fantasy to an end—but the vibrator felt too good, and I was close. So close.
I remembered his hand on the small of my back at the party and how badly I’d wanted him to lower that hand to cup my ass. How his warm breath brushed my ear as he lowered himself to my height to murmur the words Look who’s blushing now.