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I knew this wasn’t going to cut it.
A stark reminder that we weren’t in our west coast beach town that never saw cool weather. Ever.
I snuck back into the hotel room and grabbed a blanket.
Now that felt like heaven.
Warm under a blanket.
A large hot coffee between my hands, warming me up too.
Thinking things…
Oh, Fiona.
What are you doing right now?
This is why that post-sex haze is fun and dangerous.
Only I was far ahead of the wholepost-sex hazething.
These were my real thoughts now.
I bit my bottom lip and looked back into the hotel room.
I saw Riff standing in front of the television.
Looking at his phone.
Just the side view of that man…
Jeans. T-shirt. The size of his arms. The way his biceps flexed without him flexing. A little scruff on his face. His messy hair from sex and sleep.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to look forward.
I took a deep breath.
Carefully, I eased the lid off the coffee.
Steam billowed into the air.
I lifted the cup toward my mouth.
My lips felt the heat.
I blew.
Don’t think about Riff.
Don’t think about him.
Don’t even put the idea of actually being with him into your head.
It cannot happen.
I had to get out of his condo and out of his life.
What I had to do and what I was going to do were two different things.
