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She smirked at the words she’d typed into her blank document. “A sex goddess,” she whispered to herself. But no, that wasn’t quite it. There were too many types of sex she hadn’t had yet.
She backed the cursor all the way up and tried again. I give the best blow jobs in the whole world. Okay, that probably wasn’t true. Yet. She’d only given one awesome blow job, after all.
I am a dick-sucking savant.
Yes. That was it. And she was the perfect match for a world-class pussy eater like Gabe.
Veronica smiled stupidly at the screen, blushing at her own vulgar thoughts. She had to get to work, but all she wanted to do was think about what they’d done the night before.
He hadn’t spent the night. She understood why. It was just sex. It wasn’t serious. And he’d been due at work first thing in the morning, so he hadn’t stayed. But she wished he had. She wanted it again.
Hoping more caffeine would clear the haze of lust from her head, she got up and poured herself another cup of coffee.
Her new note stared he
r in the face. #3—Try new things. She was really kicking ass at that one. She’d tried Gabe MacKenzie.
She sighed and leaned against the counter.
Holy mother, she was in trouble. One single orgasm and he was under her skin in a big way. Not that she was surprised. She’d waited a really long time for that orgasm, and it had been a good one. As far as she could tell. Maybe there were better ones. She wanted to find out.
Try new things.
She set her cup down and dug a pen from a drawer to add two words to the note. #3—Try all the new things.
But first she had to work. She grabbed her coffee and laptop and headed to the desk in her bedroom. It would be easier to think if she was away from the oral-sex couch.
She opened the email from Torn and started writing.
Dear Torn,
I struggled with how to answer your letter, because there is no easy answer. You have dreams. You have goals and desires that are about you and have nothing to do with a man. But you also have a relationship that you value and a partner you love. The truth is that these two very separate things may not fit together.
I could tell you to sit down and make a list of pros and cons, of risks and rewards, but real life isn’t neat like that. If you follow your dreams, there’s a good chance they won’t work out the way you expect. You might hate the city, you might hate the job, or you might get sick in a year and find that career and location are your lowest priorities. Then again, we all know that marriage isn’t exactly a permanent state anymore. You can dedicate your life to someone and wake up to find that they’re gone six months later.
But if you’re keeping this from him, I’m not sure he’s the love of your life. First of all, you’re not communicating with him. Second, you don’t trust him. What you’re saying is “I’m considering giving up my dream to live where he wants to live, because I know he won’t do the same for me.”
Torn, you have to tell him about your dreams, your job offer and your fears. His reaction might help you make the decision. But there’s a good possibility that this relationship is already on shaky ground, shaky enough that if you stay in it and don’t follow the dreams that are just for you, your love may fade more quickly than you think.
She hit Save, then rolled her shoulders. It was only a first pass. She’d shower and go grocery shopping and then read it again.
Before she closed her laptop, she paged to the top of the document just to be sure she’d erased her self-help mantras. Her editor didn’t need to know that Dear Veronica was a dick-sucking savant. It would make for some awkward meetings.
She managed to get through the next couple of hours. She did a good job of not obsessing over her superhot lover. She showered and took only a moment to look at her naked body and wonder what it looked like to Gabe.
There were other adult things she had to do. She went to the bank, did her grocery shopping, put everything away and then cleaned the kitchen. But after all that, it was only one-thirty and she had to sit on her hands to stop herself from incessantly checking her texts.
She’d thought he might text this morning. She’d been sure he’d text this afternoon. He hadn’t, and Veronica was trying to convince herself that wasn’t a bad sign. After all, as meaningful as last night had been for her, for Gabe it had been just another sexual encounter. It hadn’t been a first for him. He hadn’t waited for years.
She snatched up her phone and checked it. Gabe hadn’t texted.
Veronica felt suddenly disgusted with herself. Why was she waiting for Gabe to text? Didn’t her fingers work just as well as his? He’d said he wanted to see the real her, and the real her wanted to text him.
Thanks for last night, she typed, then hit Send. Alarm immediately flooded her veins. Was she flirting now or being awkward? Was there any difference where she was concerned?
After holding her breath as long as she could, she let it out and tried to breathe normally. When a full minute passed without a response, she groaned in pain. She was definitely being weird. Who sent a thank-you note for an orgasm?
Oh, God. She’d just sent a thank-you note for an orgasm!
