Frayed Silk(12)

“Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like anyone is ever going to know. Just you”—he runs his finger over the shell of my ear—“and me.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

Don’t do it, Dahlia. Do not do it.

Call Lola.

My head’s nodding before I’ve even unraveled my thoughts. My conscience is screaming at me. But this stupid need for some form of happiness and vengeance, I don’t even know—wins out.

“Just … just once, okay?” My voice breaks as I meet his heated gaze.

He nods, eyes darting between mine. “Sure. I’ll meet you there.”

As he walks off, I try my best not to run back into the bathroom and hyperventilate. I force myself back to the kitchen where I finish my shift with shaking hands.

Once the clock hits eleven thirty, I sign off, say goodbye, and make my way over to the run-down hotel a few streets away. I decide to leave my car out on the street instead of in the parking lot. Doing so makes me feel dirtier than even agreeing to this. But I told Leo I was having an affair, and he said to do whatever I want. He didn’t do or say anything to stop me.

I take a deep breath and climb out, trepidation filling every step I take to room twenty-two. Jared opens the door before I even get there, and I didn’t realize how much I must have dragged my feet until now. He grabs my hand and tugs me inside, locking the door behind me. I’d be scared if this were anyone else other than the man I’ve slowly gotten close to over the past month. But no, my gut churns for a whole variety of reasons instead.

He backs me into the door, tucking his face into my neck and inhaling deeply. The action causes my stomach to quiver.

“I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you,” he rasps.

I try to search for some bravado. “Well, now you can have … me,” I stammer.

He chuckles, the sound huskier than usual. “I know you’re terrified, but you can trust me.” He lifts his head, and his eyes ask me to believe him. And I do. I know he won’t hurt me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be okay. Not at all.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he warns.

I try to talk, to say something, but his lips descend and land on mine before I can. My eyes close, and I try to adjust to the foreign feel of his mouth. He hesitantly parts my lips with his and licks at the underside of my top lip. My hands find their way into his hair as I tilt my head, allowing his tongue more access.

He groans. “You taste like heaven,” he says into my mouth. “I bet you do everywhere.”

A moan escapes me at the thought of his mouth tasting me everywhere. He tastes like tobacco and spearmint. The vast difference from Leo should shock me, but it doesn’t. It has me tangling my tongue with his as my body grows so heated that I feel as though I might burst into flames at any minute.

We’re soon stumbling around the room, undressing each other while trying to keep our mouths fused together. “Just sex,” I breathe as he stares down at my almost naked form with wonder in his eyes while I lie on the scratchy, threadbare comforter on the queen-size bed.

“Whatever you say, Blondie,” he mutters against my skin as he dips his head to pull my lace panties from me with his teeth. I know this is wrong. That desperation mixed with a healthy dose of heartache could cause a recipe for disaster. But I can’t bring myself to give a damn. Not when I’ve been starved for so long. Not when his rough hands are gliding down the insides of my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“So fucking beautiful. You’ve had two kids?” he asks in disbelief.

I nod. “There’s evidence, so don’t look too hard,” I say jokingly as I reach for him. I need to stop reality from trying to enter this dimly lit hotel room.

He bats my hand away, tracing his fingers over the scar from my C-sections then some of the fine stretch marks around my hips and on the tops of my thighs. “Found them.” He grins up at me.

He’s taking too long. “Are we doing this or what?”

I need to do this. The longer we wait, the more I’m afraid that I might back out.

He tsks. “Let me look my fill. It’s not every day a man comes across graceful looking curves of this perfection.” He kisses my hip, moving in to dip his tongue into my belly button, making me giggle and arch off the bed.

“Stop!” I pant.

He does, and I open my eyes to see him leaning over me, almost nose to nose. “This needs to come off.” He glares at my bra like it’s offending him. “Show me those tits, Blondie.”

The crass statement has me growing even wetter. I swallow hard, unclasping it and slowly pulling the straps down my arms. He leans on one arm to throw it across the room until it lands somewhere on the floor with my other articles of clothing. My eyes fall to the tattoos on his arms—the intricate shading of tombstones and roses. He couldn’t be more different from Leo if he tried. And for some reason, I’m immensely pleased by this fact.

He leans down, making my hips buck from the bed and connect with his hardness as he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks.

“Oh, God …” I gasp.

“No, baby, just me.” He chuckles, and I slap his shoulder.

“You’re a turd.”

He laughs quietly, shifting to rub his lips over my other nipple. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but I can honestly say that a turd is not one of them.”