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“I’m sorry,” Lauren croaked, then cleared her throat. “What did you say your name was?”
He smiled, and he looked so young in that moment that Lauren relaxed. She wasn’t taking this boy home. “I’m Gerard,” he said.
Which was when she noticed his French accent.
Eyes widening in horror, she looked toward Sophie, who offered a wide grin and nodded.
Lauren shook her head and sprang to her feet, nearly knocking over the bar stool. “A pleasure to meet you. Could you excuse me for a moment, Gerard?”
She felt Sophie’s hand brush her arm, but Lauren hurried toward the bathroom, clutching her purse so tightly that she could barely feel her fingers when she reached for the door and pushed into the quiet. Letting the door close behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, fully aware that she was now hiding in a saloon bathroom. She wasn’t even ashamed. She needed a moment. Needed to catch her breath.
She’d been dating for seven years now, but she knew she’d never really been invested in it. She’d never been hopeful. A requisite one man every year—or two—just to tell herself she was staying in the game. Three dates if he wasn’t awful, then a decision about whether she’d sleep with him or not, calculated on mathematics she couldn’t fully exp
lain to herself.
But this felt different. Now she wanted things. She was actually tempted by that too-young man even when she didn’t want to be. Her body was trying to override her mind. Her dating choices had never been based on this kind of lust and need. Never on this urge to have a man inside her, to be filled and used and satisfied.
She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror above the sink. There was nothing wrong with it, really. It was just so new that it scared her. The sharp lust that overtook her at strange hours. The fantasies she spun as she touched herself, of animal sex, raw fucking, using a man’s body to get what she wanted.
And in her fantasies, she was never self-conscious or doubtful. She was turned on and hungry and taking what she needed.
She stared into her own eyes, the same eyes she’d always had, even if they had a few more wrinkles around them. She’d earned those lines. She shouldn’t be so worried about them or any of the rest of her parts.
Maybe what she needed was a too-young Frenchman. Maybe not. But what she didn’t need to feel was too old to be worthy of mutual pleasure. Even if she needed to turn the lights off, that was fine. It could be all scents and sounds and touch and taste.
Yes. Her body thrummed to life at the thought of being in the pitch dark, a hot body over hers, her hands clutching a back that was smooth and slick with sweat. Her heart sped at the thought, and then it multiplied, splitting into smaller hearts that lodged in her throat and wrists and between her legs.
Lauren got out her lipstick and stroked more bright color over her mouth. Then she set her shoulders and smiled. She might not do it tonight, and she might not do it with that French boy, but she was going to get laid, and soon, because she was forty-three years old and she damn well needed it.
Chin high, Lauren stepped out of the bathroom and moved toward the table with a new swing in her step. She didn’t have anything to worry about. She knew what she wanted.
The big French guy had leaned close to Sophie, but he glanced up to smile at Lauren as she worked her way across the room. He wasn’t going to leave this to chance. He’d flirt with both of them, apparently, and hope one of them took the bait. Or both of them.
Laughing to herself at the thought, Lauren let her eyes slide away from him. He was cute, but not so cute he shouldn’t know that she was keeping her options open. She meant to give the room another quick survey, but her eyes never made it past the bar. There, tucking his wallet away as he reached for a glass of beer, was Jake. His eyes were on Lauren. His head tipped toward her and one eyebrow rose in greeting.
Lauren would’ve skidded to a stop, but she bumped into a chair and her confident walk came to an abrupt end. Holy shit. He’d actually shown up.
She looked at her table again, not sure what to do. Somehow, the idea of introducing Jake to Monsieur Gerard made her skin tighten with horror, but she was just as horrified at the idea of ignoring Jake to flirt with a boy nearly young enough to be her kid.
Her indecision decided it for her. Jake was already halfway across the bar and headed straight for her. She felt strangely relieved and smiled more genuinely.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
Nodding, she couldn’t resist a quick scan of his body. “You look different,” she said, surprised by his transformation. She hadn’t seen him dressed so informally in a long time, aside from his near-naked running outfit. Tonight he wore dark jeans and a green button-down shirt. She could just see the hollow of his throat and a few enticing curls of chest hair not covered by fabric.
“So do you,” he answered.
She blushed then, reminded that her breasts were pushed up and half exposed, but the blush felt good, tightening her nipples and making her skin warm.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
Her pulse quickened with alarm at the question. It was just so...not familiar. Not harmless. Can I buy you a drink? was something a man said to a woman when he wanted to get to know her better. More intimately. She darted another look at her table and saw that Gerard was now speaking very close to Sophie’s ear, and Sophie’s smile seemed to approve. Good. Let those two kids have fun.
“Yes,” Lauren finally answered. “I’d love a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, please.” Jake smiled as if he approved.
“Give me a minute. I’ll bring it to the table.”
“No!”
