As soon as the car pulled away from the sidewalk, Viviana laid her head against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t look back to see if he was watching her go.
Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t call.
Not every person who comes into your life is meant to stay.
Audrey was still out when Viviana arrived at their apartment, which was perfect because it allowed Viviana to head straight for the shower. She scrubbed herself down more thoroughly than normal while reminding herself that she’d done nothing to be ashamed of.
I’m an adult.
He’s an adult.
Sex happens.
Shame is learned—and subjective. I will not succumb to it.
And yet she lathered, scrubbed, rinsed, and repeated several more times beneath the hot spray. After she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a large white towel, she sat back against the sink counter and took a few deep, calming breaths.
Audrey would say—
It doesn’t matter what she would say because I’m not Audrey. I’m not completely fine with what I did. But that’s okay, right?
Because this is my journey.
I am not a one-night-stand-with-a-stranger kind of woman. There, I said it. It was exciting and the best sex I’ve had to date, but I don’t like the aftertaste.
And that’s okay, too.
I know what I want now and what I don’t.
She smiled and wiped a piece of mirror so she could see herself. The woman who looked back at her was complicated and confused, but she wasn’t scared anymore. I’m done apologizing for being me.
What’s that trite saying? You have to like yourself before anyone else will like you. Well, I’ve taken the first step in that journey.
I followed my heart tonight—okay, my groin if we’re going to be precise—and it took courage. If I apply that courage to other areas of my life I’ll start applying for those jobs I was sure wouldn’t hire me and stop avoiding phone calls from my family because I don’t want to answer their questions.
If I can fuck a stranger in a storage closet, I can tell my father I schedule donor deliveries for a sperm bank. It’s not like I assist in the process.
Viviana smiled at her own joke, knowing it was one she would never utter in front of her family. As far as her father and brothers knew she was the oldest living virgin on the planet and she was pretty sure they’d kill anyone who came forward with proof of the opposite.
She gathered her things and took them to her bedroom. She placed her phone on her nightstand then sat on the edge of her bed and frowned at it. Bolstering her ego, she said aloud, “If you don’t call me it’s your loss, because I am so much more fun than I thought.”
Chapter Four
‡
The next day, Grant did something unusual, he decided to drive his LaFerrari Spider instead of utilizing his usual driver and the Bentley. The sports car had been stored in his garage since he’d received it as a gift a year ago, driven only enough to maintain it. It was over the top powerful, sleek, and flashy—everything Grant normally gave little value. He’d intended to hang onto it for a polite amount of time and then either donate it for tax purposes or private auction it for a profit. But that day he wanted to drive something that reflected how he felt, and to do that he’d chosen a car with—swagger. He was pretty pleased with himself as he drove to his parents’ home.
Not the Barrington for the job? Too predictable? Too boring?
I fucked a woman in a juice bar storage closet and nailed it.
I might fuck another complete stranger tonight simply because I can. I knew I had a wild side and last night proved it.
There is nothing my brothers have done that I couldn’t have, had I wanted to.
When he stopped for a traffic light a beautiful brunette walked in front of his car. She paused, looked over the car, then him, and winked. His smile widened. I would fuck her if she were taller and blonde.
At the next light the window of the car next to him rolled down and a business card flew through his window and onto his lap. A blonde woman with an undeniably stunning rack blew him a kiss and motioned for him to call her. I would fuck her if her hair were longer, and she had the kind of smile that’s impossible not to kiss.
Like Viviana’s.
He revved the engine and sped down the street, several miles over the speed limit. As he drove he made mental inventory of the single women in his life. From his secretary to his dental hygienist, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining being with each of them.
It was a surprisingly disappointing fantasy thread. He sat in his car in front of his parents’ and mulled why. How could he have discovered the sexual animal within him and not want to unleash it again?
He took out the piece of paper he’d tucked into his wallet. Viviana’s number. Common sense told him not to call the woman he’d lied to about his identity and then had sex with within hours of meeting. There was nowhere good that could go.
He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her lips on his cock. Heaven. Every taste of her, every way they connected, flashed in his mind until he was sporting a painful boner the likes of which no man should have while sitting in his parents’ driveway.
I don’t want my secretary or some woman I could meet at a bar tonight. I want more of last night—more of her.
Shit.
On the new cell phone his assistant had delivered that morning, Grant typed in the number of the woman he’d spent the evening with, telling himself he shouldn’t see her again. He held his breath and shifted uncomfortably in his seat while waiting for her to answer.
“Hello?” Her voice was as sweet as he remembered.
“It’s Grant. Grant from last night. At the juice bar.” He laid his head on the steering wheel briefly. I sound like an idiot.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d actually call.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Fuck. Did I need to say that?
“Well, okay, you’re honest at least . . . I guess that’s a good thing.”
Not as honest as you think. Part of him wanted to blurt out his real name and apologize right then. Another part of him, possibly the part that was tenting his pants, wasn’t ready to do anything that might kill his chance to be with her again. “I want to see you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I have a family commitment during the day, but I’ll be free around dinner.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you were?”
The question took him off guard, and he laughed. “Yes, but if I were the type to lie about being married then I would also likely be the type to lie about lying so my denial doesn’t prove much.”
There was a pause. “So you are married?”
I need to shut up until some of the blood heads north to my brain again. “No, I’m extremely single.”
“I’m not sure what that means either.”
“It means I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to take you out tonight then take you somewhere where we can do everything we did last night—but slower—better—again and again. I want to make you come so many times you beg me to stop then beg for more.”
The door of his parents’ house opened and his mother waved for him to come in. He raised a finger in the air, requesting one more moment. His father joined his mother on the steps and Grant’s dick had never been more conflicted. “Say yes,” he ordered in a strangled voice.
“Yes,” she whispered, and he nearly came in his pants.
“I have to go. I’ll text you when I’m done here.”
“I work until four.”
