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Oh boy, he rose to that bait faster than I had expected. I was out of my league. I felt my insides tighten and I crossed my legs in my sundress, nervous. “I don’t think I…” Can come multiple times. Or even once. But I stopped myself, because that was far too personal to share with Christian.
“You’re blushing, Bella.”
I was. I could feel the heat on my cheeks. What I really wanted was to just say screw it and let Christian push me down on this couch and somehow convert me from boring to badass in bed in five minutes. I just wanted it to happen. To feel all those things that other women felt and have my guy driven to the edge of insanity when he was with me.
It felt depressing as hell. “That’s because I’m never going to be that girl. I don’t think I’m capable of that. Maybe I’m missing a gene or something.”
Christian scoffed. “You’re not defective. You just obviously haven’t had a partner who knew what the fuck he was doing.”
I opened my mouth but I wasn’t even sure what to say. So I closed it again and reached for my wine. My mouth felt hot. I didn’t exactly have a long list of lovers. Only a couple, so what did I know? Obviously nothing. “My stomach hurts,” I said. The hangover and the doughnuts and the wine were all catching up with me. “I should go home.”
I hated this feeling. I felt lost and unsure of myself. I had never been someone who was lacking in confidence. I had for the most part sailed through life. I knew my strengths and my weaknesses and I had been well aware and appreciative of the fact that I had the privilege of money. Now all of a sudden I wasn’t even sure who I was.
When I stood up quickly my head spun. I reached out to hold on to something but there was nothing but air.
Christian stood up too and came up behind me, gripping my arms with his hands. “Whoa. You okay?”
I nodded, but that made me dizzy again. “Just a little light-headed. I didn’t eat very well today.” He wasn’t helping my dizziness. I was very aware of how close he was to me, and he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. His hands were hot on my skin, his chest warm. His thighs brushed my butt. I tried to lean forward but the coffee table was in the way.
“I would drive you home,” he said. “But I can’t leave Camp.”
Right. His son. Sleeping in another room. The poor little baby with the awful mother who had abandoned him. That mean girl in the restroom at the bar who had ripped into my sister and made fun of me for throwing up. “I can just request an Uber.”
I felt very drunk and scared to go home and face Bradley. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I blinked hard. A small groan of frustration escaped before I could prevent it.
So much for me taking charge of my life and fixing a terrible situation. I was just being desperate.
Christian turned me around and searched my expression. I tried not to look away, frantically attempting to channel Coco Chanel. She always said a woman should be two things: classy and fabulous. I normally strived to be both. Right now I was neither, and I hated that. I lifted my chin, threw back my shoulders. I wished I were wearing red lipstick.
“Just stay here,” Christian said. “There’s twin beds in Camp’s room and you can crash. You’ll feel better in the morning after you’ve eaten eggs and had some bacon. You look like you need meat.” He gave me a grin.
It was such a silly thing to say that it made me feel better. He wasn’t going to make this any more awkward than it already was and I appreciated that. I also thought I should protest staying there, but I was feeling so physically spent I couldn’t even bring myself to be polite and demure. “Thanks, Christian. You can be a really nice guy, you know that?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He cleared his throat. “If you had any idea of the dirty thoughts running through my head right now, that is not the word you’d use.”
“Oh!” For whatever reason I glanced down at his crotch again. He had a hard-on. I whipped my head back up. “Where is Camp’s room?”
He smirked. “Down the hall. I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ll be safe in the baby’s room, don’t worry.”
He led me to the last room at the end of the dark hallway. He put his finger to his lips to indicate I should be quiet before he turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stepped inside behind him, grateful for the nightlight plugged into an outlet on the wall. I could see the crib and the outline of his son. Camp was breathing lightly and it was a sweet, reassuring sound. Christian pulled back the comforter on a twin bed and gestured for me to lie down. I did, exhausted, head spinning more than I would like. He leaned over and tucked me in. Like he actually pulled the comforter into place over my body and brushed my hair back off my face.
I shivered at the unexpected touch.
Then he whispered in my ear, “Sweet dreams, princess.”
It shouldn’t have aroused me, but it did. What the hell was wrong with me? I have never thought of myself as an awkward person, but he made me feel like a virgin at a prison rodeo. Jumpy and terrified. Yet excited.
Christian disappeared back into the hallway, the door softly closing behind him. I texted Bradley and Sophie, letting them know I wasn’t coming home because I drank too much wine with Kennedy. Then I placed my phone down on the floor and sighed, staring up at the ceiling of the small room, listening to Camp and his soft baby breathing. The texts Bradley had sent to those girls crowded my thoughts, made my stomach churn. I didn’t regret coming over here, but I knew now I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cheat on Bradley even if the purpose was to be better in bed to jerk him around. I’m not wired that way and I already felt guilty just over a kiss, which I had enjoyed.
I wouldn’t feel good about revenge sex. Evening the score. Saying that hey, Bradley screwed some girls, so I could screw Christian and that would be that. Clean slate. I’m far too emotional, wanting what was clearly a fantasy. Sophie had always told me I tried to fit the world into my perception of reality, and she was probably right.
It made me realize I didn’t know anything about my relationship or even myself.
That was the most gut-wrenching thought of all.
—
Alcohol and exhaustion can knock out even the most determined insomniac. I would have sworn I wouldn’t sleep, fretting endlessly over my impending marriage and Bradley’s cheating, and even thoughts of Christian shirtless, but I did. I woke up in Camp’s room with a start, disoriented for a minute, unavailable to identify what I was hearing and where I was. Then I realized that Camp was quietly babbling to himself in a combination of English and baby language. It had a sweet, singsong quality to it.
