Breaking All Her Rules. Maisey Yates
loved most, than be here alone. But that was another lifetime. Another man. He wasn’t even going to think about it.
“Then why is it?” she asked.
“Hell if I know. Life never seems to be the way it’s supposed to be,” he said. “All you can do is enjoy the little things. Which is why I was thinking porn and chicken.”
“I have no little things I enjoy,” she said. “I enjoy nothing. And I think I hate everything.” She was breathing hard, her eyes wide.
“Everything?”
“I don’t even have a life. I don’t even think I have any friends left. I work at this job, and I go back to my apartment and order takeout and I watch DVR’d TV shows. I don’t date I don’t...I don’t...” Her eyes clashed with his, a hard sock of heat hitting his gut.
“What else?” he asked.
She looked away. “If I don’t date I think it’s pretty obvious what else I’m not doing.”
Oh, yes, he was well familiar with that problem. He hadn’t gotten laid in so long he was afraid his long uprooted virginity was starting to grow back. If such a thing was possible. He hadn’t seen sex since his twenties, and sitting where he was at thirty-five that seemed damn sad.
He’d had a lot more than getting some on his mind, though, but now...now it seemed like maybe he needed to do something about it. Maybe it was time to let another person touch him. Not a handshake or anything, but hands on naked skin. On skin that was normally covered by clothes.
He hadn’t been tempted to connect in so long. He’d been avoiding it. He’d been too raw. But everything had scarred over now. Had come out tougher than he’d started. It would never heal, but he wasn’t vulnerable anymore. He doubted he possessed the ability to be hurt at this point, to feel loss.
He’d maxed out that garbage a while ago.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. Affected. “Obvious.”
“I guess maybe not because some people just...I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. You officially know more of my baggage than my best friend, who I haven’t talked to in four months because I’m an unhappy, terrible workaholic, and she’s just as bad.”
“Well, you’re in my hotel room, I’m half-dressed.... It seems logical really.”
“My phone?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” That was why she was here. Her phone. The one on his bed. He’d completely forgotten. It hadn’t seemed to matter.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes wide. “I kind of forgot. About my phone. Which I never do, because I’m addicted to using my phone. How sad is that? I am addicted to my phone. To keeping plugged into my office when I’m not there. Sometimes I get so caught up in work email during dinner that I forget to pay attention to the show on my DVR. So I record shows, because I’m too busy to watch them when they come on, then I put them on and I ignore them! I am a mess.”
“You really are.”
“I need to relax.”
“I agree.”
“Do you know what I need?” she asked, her small breasts rising and falling with the sharp pitch of her breathing.
“What?” he asked, his stomach tightening.
“I just need to relax.”
“I agree.”
“I need...” Her eyes had dropped back down to his chest. “I need to...make a decision instead of just flying under the radar. I think I need to cut loose.” Her eyes met his again. “Got any ideas?”
“I do. But I’m a stranger and I’m pretty sure none of the ideas I have are appropriate for strangers.”
“We shared a cab,” she said, a desperate light in her dark gaze now.
“Well, then, I guess that changes things. Kiss me.”
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