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I ask, “Are you, really?”
“I’m sorry that you’re mad at me and asking me to leave. Let me make it up to you.” Jamie pulls the ties of my bathrobe, moving me closer to him.
Whispering in my ear, he says, “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.”
In an instant, I soften, melting into him. What he does to me no other man has ever done. I do not understand it at all. He runs his tongue from my ear down my neck and I moan audibly. I’m putty in his hands. And it pisses me off to no end. I want to be able to control myself, but I simply can’t.
Untying my robe, he pushes it off my shoulder, and it falls to the floor. Standing back, he simply stares at me, looking me up and down.
“Damn. Look at your nipples. I love how responsive you are. Your words may say one thing, but your body says another. You want me as much as I want you.”
Kneeling in front of me, I feel his tongue between my legs. He sucks on my clit as he slides two fingers inside of me.
“Fuck. Jamie. My god.”
I run my fingers through his hair, pulling it as I come from his mouth and he moans. I love making him moan.
“I wish I could stay and fuck you.” He stands up and kisses me briefly. “I have to go. Sheila is meeting me in my room at ten.”
“Sheila?”
“An author. We are writing a novel together.”
“In your room?” I ask.
“Are you jealous?”
“No, of course not.”
A massive grin displays across his face.
“Fuck you later.”
I say, “Yeah, yeah.” And he leaves.
* * *
I sit down to finish the end of my book and it’s hard to concentrate wondering what’s going on in room 603. Is he having sex with her, too? Has he already had sex with her? Why do I even care? Jamie was free to have sex with anyone he wanted to, as long as he used a condom.
Pushing Jamie and Sheila from my mind, I write with ease. My main character has fallen in love. Unlike real life, this will end with a ‘happily ever after’.
It makes me think about my own refusal to fall in love. I simply can’t go there. Maybe it’s why I write romance novels. It’s perhaps my way of experiencing love without experiencing the pain that goes along with it. Every man in my early life either hurt me or let me down. From an early age, I learned that a man cannot be trusted. Love is a one-way street, filled with potholes. If you get involved with someone, you will get hurt.
I spend my day going from my book to my personal life. I’ve never had such a difficult time concentrating. Normally I get so involved in my writing that I couldn’t think about something else if I tried. My mind is wandering today.
I got a text from Chase.
From: Chase… Are you in love with him?
To: Chase…No. But you know I don’t do that.
From: Chase… Do you feel anything for me?
To: Chase…No. Chase, it’s just sex. I told you that.
From: Chase… I was hoping you felt something.
To: Chase.. I’m sorry.
