Page 37 of All Mixed Up

The farthest reaches of his heart. The powerful depths of his soul. The fierce intensity of his spirit. Everything, everything, that was so uniquely him…

Calling to everything in me.

Everything I thought I’d erased from myself.

The grief over Dad’s abandonment. The fear that Mom wouldn’t survive her chemotherapy. The thrill of being on top of my career, joined with the loneliness of doing it alone.

The loneliness.

So deep, it was embedded into my marrow by now.

Not seen by anyone so clearly before now.

Before him.

Because he’d exposed his loneliness too.

I saw it all again this moment, as if the man suddenly appeared next to me. In my mind, we were lying together once more, in those quiet post-coital moments on the riverboat. Our naked limbs were still twined and our faces were just inches from each other. He’d brushed the hair back from my face—and in the same sweep, every barrier back from his emotions.

And in that amazing moment, I’d seen it all.

The wilderness of his insecurities. The uncertainty of his happiness. The voids inside that no bespoke suit, fast car, or Michelin five-star dinner would ever fulfill.

Without thought, I’d lifted my hand to his face too. And then followed him into that wilderness. And then been terrified of what I found there.

So much of me.

And I’d shattered.

The barriers, all down. The floodgates, unlocked.

I’d come apart so hard in his arms, Lucien’s cock never had a chance to leave me. I’d cried for so long, he’d stiffened once more…and then used his body to put me back together again. His slow, deep rhythm lifted us to new crescendos of pleasure, new elevations of erotic light. We’d climaxed with our eyes fixed, our breaths mingled, our bodies meshed…our spirits joined.

I shivered again now, just from the memory of it. The action did little to help my conflict but at least woke me up to Leese’s incessant echo of her question. I wrangled some mental matter together long enough to answer her.

“Well…the look seems to have been retired.” Though I got it out, it wasn’t with any enthusiasm. What was a vexated mire if one couldn’t drag friends into the muck too? “Correction. The damn look has died. Long live the look.” I raised my wine glass toward the screen before finishing my Cabernet in one purposeful swig. Thank God for my lightweight metabolism and the rush of a good French red.

“Well, crap.” Leese, who had seven more years of friendship with me than Gigi, was already breaking down my actions and words. “Hold on. Let me get a refill of my own swill here.”

As she poured herself some more of her favorite canned margarita swill, Gigi wasted no time in leaning in to her own camera. “Oh, dear. What’s going on, chere?”

“Uh-huh.” I wagged—swiveled?—a finger at her face. “Ohhh no, no, no. No with the chere.” I burped and then giggled. “On the other hand, why not with the chere?” I blinked lazily while searching for the Cabernet bottle. I’d left it around here somewhere… “’S not like I’m hearin’ it from anyone else around here.”

“Details.” Leese was back and cutting to the chase with her demands.

At first, I just shook my head. Though the motion turned the room into an E-ticket ride, it was surprisingly great for aligning my thoughts. “Whaddya want first? Deets on the multiple-orgasm demon from a week ago, or the cut to the priest who’s replaced him since?”

“Demon,” Leese said.

“Priest,” Gigi blurted in the same instant.

“What the hell?” Leese flung. “Priest?”

Gigi had her most coy shrug at the ready. “Clearly, your kinky mind needs to be expanded, girl.”

“Damn.” Leese clapped. “Okay, priest it is.”

“Oh, God.” I buried my face in my hands. “This conversation’ll resume as soon as you two finish your gutter river cruise.”