AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mia drapes a gown over my shoulders and gets to work. I get the full treatment, complete with a complimentary coffee and a head massage that feels like a divine experience.
But having a woman’s hands on my scalp makes me think of what happened earlier in my workshop. When I kissed Georgia and she wrapped my hair around her fingers, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. That bite of pain, the way she reacted to me pinching and plumping and suckling her…
Her reaction told me everything I needed to know. We’ve always been made for each other.
That kind of electricity between two people doesn’t just happen. My ex-wife, Shelly, never liked the way I was in bed. From the very first time, I had to hold back. It was awkward between us, like we were reading from two different scripts. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant within a couple of weeks of us first hooking up, our relationship wouldn’t have lasted more than a few months. It was no surprise we got divorced, but it still hurt.
Just like watching Georgia walk away from me all over again, the divorce was unsurprising and oddly painful. Another failure to add to my ever-growing collection.
I lie back as the hairdresser rinses my hair, thinking about that little gasp that Georgia made when I plucked her nipple.
It was surprise and desire, and it happened right before she melted in my arms. Shelikedit. Craved it—maybe the same way I do. She’s wound up so tight most of the time; I wonder how she’d react if she let herself go.
“All right,” Mia says in a sing-song voice, “let’s get you back to the chair.”
I stare at myself in the mirror and feel my stomach sink like a rock. How can I be thinking of Georgia when she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me? Why do I want to do dirty, depraved things with her—things that no gentleman would ever want to do to a woman? Why am I lying to myself, pretending that she’d enjoy it?
My ex-wife was right when she told me I should be ashamed of myself. No self-respecting woman likes being treated in bed the way I crave. I can dream of bending Georgia over my knee and making her ass beautifully pink, but that’s as close as I’ll get to the real thing. Georgia was right to walk away from me at eighteen, and she was right to walk away from me today.
Depraved as my desires are, I know I don’t deserve a woman like Georgia. Hell, I didn’t even deserve my ex-wife, and she turned out to be a harpy wearing a woman’s body. I blink at myself in the mirror and clench my jaw, disgusted.
“Relax your jaw, Sebastian,” Mia says, tilting my head to the side as she pulls my skin taut. “Great. Thank you.”
I push all thoughts of women and my own sick psyche aside and focus on regulating my breathing.
Mia is talented with a straight razor, giving me a closer shave than I could do at home. After a few minutes, she sweeps the gown off my shoulders and brushes the last few stray hairs from my neck. “All done. Will that be cash or card?”
I pull out my wallet and present her with a credit card, and nod when she asks if I want a loyalty card. Then I step out into the sunshine, shaved and trimmed and feeling like complete garbage.
7
GEORGIA
I drovefor nearly an hour before returning to town. My hands stayed clenched around the grips of my scooter’s handles, my body buzzing with anger and need and frustration.
Howdarehe. He used his masculinity to bring me to the brink of desire, then he delivered a blow that was ten times as painful as the slap I gave him. He took the lust I felt and made it dirty. He made me lose control and then threw it in my face.
As I drove, I wondered if he did it on purpose—and then I remembered the way he called my name when I drove off.
I zoomed down Cove Boulevard and stopped in front of the Four Cups Café. It wasn’t until I’d pulled the keys out of my scooter that I realized what I’d done. Normally, I would’ve been heading home to lick my wounds alone. I’d isolate myself. Today, though, I found myself seeking out the company of women who make me feel like I belong.
Now, I’m in the library above the Four Cups Café with Simone, Fiona, and Trina. When they brought me up here, frazzled and still blushing from my morning, it felt like I was being admitted to some sacred inner sanctum. Apparently, Wes renovated this space for Simone when they first started seeing each other. Now it’s a co-working space, gossip central, and a refuge for the ladies of Heart’s Cove.
The rapt attention of my new friends carries me through the retelling of the events at the workshop. When I get to the part where he kissed me, my cheeks burning at the memory, I’m rewarded with screams and laughter. I recline on a comfortable sofa and let out a long sigh. “I don’t even know why I went over there.”
For some reason, this makes them all laugh.
It’s Trina who speaks. “I think we all know why you went over to his workshop,” she says. “And I say that speaking from experience.”
“No,” I protest, “I didn’t go over forthat. I just wanted to apologize.”
“Mm-hmm,” Simone says. “I love apologizing to Wes.”
Fiona giggles. “Grant really appreciatesmyapologies.”
“Gah—stop!” My face is flaming. I cackle. “I swear, you ladies are all perverts. I went over to apologize to Sebastian about slapping him. But then…”
“Of course,” Simone says, patting my knee. “We believe you. Wes and I don’t speak much when we’re apologizing to each other either.”
