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“Mom, can we have tater tots tonight?”
Bridget was out of breath. “Sure. Yeah, honey. Yup. Anything you want.”
“Cool.”
Brendan ran back down the hall.
Bridget looked dazed, almost embarrassed about what nearly took place between us. My hard-on had barely gone down. I didn’t know what the fuck to do next. All I knew was I wanted her. I knew it was all wrong, but I didn’t know how to change how I felt.
Frustrated, I went back to my space to be alone and spent a good portion of that evening lost in thought.
Grabbing a pen, I started to just write down my thoughts—what I wanted to say to her if I had the guts. I never planned to actually give her the letter.
Except, later that night, as my restlessness grew, I took a chance and impulsively slipped it under her bedroom door.This was not good.
Simon almost kissed me.
His hand nearly touched my ass.
He was hard.
I could feel his erection against me.
It shouldn’t have happened, and yet I couldn’t turn my body off tonight, couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop wondering what would have happened if Brendan hadn’t come into the kitchen.
I never kept any pictures of Ben laying out. It was just too painful to look at him. I did, however, keep a photo of my late husband in my bedside drawer. Sometimes, I would take it out and look at it when I felt like I needed his guidance to get through a particularly rough day. Tonight, I took the photo out for an entirely different reason. It was out of guilt, because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that for the first time since Ben’s death, I was really developing feelings for someone else. I was starting to move on.
The only problem was, I simply couldn’t move on with Simon. His plans were to go back to the UK, and a future with him therefore wasn’t an option. Even though he and I had never discussed it, Calliope also told me he didn’t want kids. While he was great with Brendan, there was a big difference between developing a friendship with a child and taking on the role of parent. Anyone I would eventually end up with would have to accept the father role.
There were just so many reasons why we weren’t a good match. So, this attraction would have to be ignored for my overall well-being. As I lay in bed trying to do just that, the urge to masturbate to memories of Simon reading me my novel replaced my good intentions.
Readying to do just that, I got up to shut off the light when I noticed a folded piece of paper by my door.
Bending down, I picked it up and started to read it.
It was the last thing I ever expected.Dear Bridget,It’s highly doubtful I’ll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. Don’t feel you need to acknowledge this note the next time we see each other, either. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I promise to play dumb. I know you, and what I’m about to say would be awkward for us to talk about face to face.
So, here goes.
We’re totally wrong for each other. We both know it. You’re probably the last woman on Earth I should want and vice versa. You’re the proper mum with a good head on her shoulders, who will always need to put her son first. I fully understand. I’m just the carefree, cheeky resident passing through town and temporarily living in your house.
But, here’s the thing…what they say about wanting what you can’t have is apparently true. For some bloody reason, I can’t stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.
I want you.
Wrong as it may be…more specifically, I want to make you come. Hard. I want you to get lost in me, and I want to hear you say my name over and over while we fuck. I get stiff just imagining what that would feel like, given that you haven’t been with a man for so long.
And these thoughts are making me insane. I’ve stopped fantasizing about anyone else and haven’t been interested in seeing anyone, either.
The only reason I’m even admitting all of this to you right now is because I don’t believe it’s one-sided. I notice your eyes when you look at me, too. You probably don’t think I can see the need written all over your face as clear as the days of the week on your knickers…but I can. Maybe I recognize it so easily because I’m feeling the exact same way. And as crass as I appear when we’re joking around about sex, my attraction to you is not a joke.
So, what’s the purpose of this note? I guess it’s a reminder that we’re adults, that sex is healthy and natural, and that you can find me just through the door past the kitchen. More specifically, it’s to let you know that I’m leaving said door cracked open from now on in case you’d like to visit me in the middle of the night sometime. I’d love nothing more than to give you the best orgasm of your life. No questions asked. Just unbridled sex.
