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Damon:Are you home?
I feel revived. Harvey’s porn in the back corner of my mind. I message him:
Gemma:Yeah . . . in my bed.
The next text I get from him sets my soul on fire, my heart on fire, my thighs on fire. My sex is exploding—ready to bloom.
Damon:You should be in mine.
I don’t even know why, I check to make sure my door is locked. As if that will change anything. Harvey’s probably sleeping from his jerk fest.
I don’t know what makes me do it—call the man I spent the evening kissing.
“Hey.” His voice is low, husky. It brings me back. Brings me back to his touches. To his lips over my throat, over my lips, over my forehead.
“Hey. Are you working hard?” I know despite him saying that he wanted to see me tonight that he really did need the package to look at the technicalities of the project.
“I am.”
“You’re not tired?” Damon doesn’t stop. Even at work, he’s always on the go. I wonder what he does to unwind, relax.
“Sleep is overrated,” he mutters, and a sliver of lust sparks my body from the sound of his voice.
“It’s important. To keep your good looks as you age... and your wife happy.”
“Oh, Gemma... you’re good but not that sneaky.”
What does that even mean?
“You warned me, I get it.” Honestly, his warnings annoy me. The more he warns, the more the rebel in me latches onto him. “You can still explain why you want to be single.”
“All of your questions lead to one thing, and I don’t want to talk about it.” He’s firm as he says this, the issue resolved in his mind. There’ll be no negotiating on his part.
“Because it’s too painful?”
I feel his frustration through the phone. “Does it matter? The results are the same.”
I debate saying what I want to say next. In the end, I do. “Life’s too short to let your past keep you in an ivory tower.”
“Gemma...” The way he says my name is like a caress to the soul. It tingles my insides.
I like the way Damon makes me feel. Scratch that—I love it.
I wait, and finally he says, “The day you leave yourboyfriend, a man who clearly doesn’t give you what you want, I’ll leave my ivory tower.”
His words hang in the air. I hate his words. I hate talking about Harvey. Harvey’s a topic I protect from anyone, Damon included.
“It’s complicated,” I say in defense.
“It always is.” I don’t answer him back. My nerves are back with a wishful vengeance, and I don’t know what to do other than go to sleep and hope that tomorrow breathes easier.
“Goodnight, Damon.”
“Goodnight, Red.”
I hang up. My pussy is warm, my heart is filled, my breathsheavy and shallow. I’m so, so torn. I picture my night with Damon, and Harvey touching himself.
And I’m jealous. Jealous of the girls Harvey was watching. Jealous of the girls Damon had or will have sex with.
