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Catching sight of herself in the mirror once more, this time without the sex haze, she blanched. Her sleek ponytail was askew with loose strands around her face. Her makeup was smudged around her eyes and mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, her blouse was bunched and twisted, and her eyes were glowing. She looked well fucked…and ashamed.
What the fuck did I just do?Once again, she let Sylvester turn her into mental jelly and fuck her until she lost all thought—and, apparently, morals.
Struggling to pull her skirt down over her wide hips, she refused to meet his searching gaze through their reflection. Finally dropping his gaze from her, Sly pulled the nearly bursting condom from his still semi-hard dick and tossed it into the nearest toilet, using his foot to flush it, before tucking himself back into his clothes and turning to wash his hands at the sink. Right next to where he’d fucked her.
In a public bathroom. Cold reality sliced through her, effectively destroying the unbridled pleasure she foolishly wanted to hold on to—despite how it was achieved.
God…she was such a fucking whore.
“I can’t believe this happened again,” she spat, slapping her hands on the granite countertop and leaning on them. The strength in her legs hadn’t returned yet, and she’d be damned if she leaned on Sylvester.
“Why not?” Sylvester asked, coming up behind her until she felt the heat of him against her back. “Our chemistry is fucking molten, baby.” He raised his hand and slid a single finger down her spine, seemingly hitting every nerve in her body connected to her erogenous zones. She shuddered.
“Don’t touch me, asshole,” she snapped. “Once again, you fuck me dirty, and I am left feeling like the slut who let you use her. But that’s not me, dammit!”
Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to spin and face the stormy expression of the man who’d just given her two orgasms in a bar bathroom.
“You are not a slut, and enjoying what we do together is natural. Fucking beautiful.”
“They why do I feel so filthy? Why do I feel like garbage?” A sob wrenched from her chest, but she didn’t stop it in time.
“Sally!” he cried, shaking her then sliding his hands up her arms to cradle her head in his big hands. “I wasn’t married when I met you in that bar.”
“Bullshit! I saw the gossip report in the news—”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to share private, highly personal information with junk reporters. Loni and I had been divorced for more than a month before that story even hit the desks of those salacious bastards. We kept it secret because we didn’t want to deal with the divorce while also navigating a media shark feeding frenzy.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I can show you the divorce papers, but I don’t think that’s the issue here. You believe me, you just don’t want to. You want to think the absolute worst about me because then my ghosting you after that night will make sense. But it’ll never make sense, Sallina—not even to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…leaving you that night was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made—and I made some seriously fucked up mistakes. But that one…making love to you, holding you in my arms, and then bolting…. I will never get over what that did to me. To you. To us.”
“There is no us, Sylvester.”
He raised a hand to her face, tracing her mouth with a fingertip. She held her breath. “No…but I want there to be.”
Her mouth dropped open, shock thundering through her blood. “You can’t be serious. You ghosted me, remember? Apparently, I’m good enough to bang but not good enough to have breakfast with the morning after.”
Gritting his teeth, Sly pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. She stayed there, her heart galloping, and waited.
Finally, he dragged in a shaking breath and whispered, “I was scared, Sally. Being with you was the most intense sexual experience of my life. Never once had I felt such a connection to someone. With you, I felt more than carnal pleasure—though there was plenty of that. I also felt…intimacy.”
“Sex is pretty intimate, Sylvester. Your dick was in my vagina. We were buck naked.”
“That’s not what I mean, and don’t turn what we shared into something crass, Sallina. It was more than that. Sure, sex is private parts touching, but the most personal, intimate, vulnerable parts of a person can only be touched when the other person actually feels…connected. I connected with you at the bar, even before I kissed you that first time. Hell, even before I heard your voice, I was picturing myself lying beside you in my bed, sharing my hopes and dreams with you into the dark of the night. When I first glanced in your direction and saw you the first time, it felt like a jolt of electricity zapped through me.
“That’s connection, that’s true intimacy. That’s what I feel when I’m with you—and that terrified me.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know if I deserve it.”
Of all the things she thought he’d say, that wasn’t one of them. “Sly…why wouldn’t you deserve to have something as beautiful as you described?” The urge to reach out and touch him, to offer something, was nearly impossible to ignore. So she didn’t. Placing a gentle hand against his cheek, the roughness of his workday scruff against her palm, she offered him unspoken comfort.
Leaning into her touch as though he were starving for it, he closed his eyes and sighed. “That is something for another time.” Opening his eyes, he pinned her where she stood, and she dropped her hand, curling her fingers in an attempt to remember what that moment had felt like. “In the meantime, I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to sit down with you, get to know more about you, walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight, and then do it all again the next night, and then the next.”
