Page 9 of One Vow

And then she was bare, her hands shoving my pants away, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I couldn’t stop wanting her. She was beautiful. Perfect. So…everything. And I wanted her. Wanted her enough to kick my jeans away and lift her so that our bare skin touched from shoulder to waist and thigh to thigh. When she wrapped her legs around my waist, ground her pussy against my dick as that tiny little skirt slipped up to her waist and I found out she wasn’t wearing panties either, I was gone.

Tonight, nothing mattered in the world but Felicity. And for as long as I lived, I would hope tonight never ended.

4

Felicity

“That’s dope!” Sofia, who’d started all this with her kiss cam ten years ago, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while she still managed to sneer, and shook her hands at me.

“No.” I shook my head at her latest attempt in the campaign to find herself and her “catchphrase.” But I was patient because that was what friends did. “Could you please pick this afternoon’s personality? I need your help.”

I hadn’t started to panic yet, but the heart flutters, the trembling hands, and the churning in my stomach said I was either headed for a panic attack or something that would require wet wipes and antacids. Hence the emergency call to my best and only friend.

She flopped into the chair beside my sofa and kicked her “kicks” onto my coffee table as she adjusted two-grand in fake jewelry. “I’m not climbing on a roof and helping you hang Christmas lights. You’re the one who couldn’t bear to move off Main Street in case you know who came back. You deal with the city managers and their ridiculous fines.”

“I don’t need your help hanging Christmas lights.” I had far more pressing issues than my agreement with the city. “I need you to help me figure out why I’m freaking out over you know who.”

And in case she wasn’t sure who we were talking about, I whispered, “Finn.”

Sofia had known both of us since before we became an “us”, she just knew me better. “He came here today.”

“You know who showed up here?” Her perfectly sculpted, and I do mean sculpted, eyebrow arched in shock.

I nodded and she sat up, braced her feet onto the floor, and dropped her mouth open. Now I had her attention. “Oh shit.”

She nodded twice.

“Okay. All right.” More nodding. “Is this a pizza and ice cream situation or should we go straight for the vodka cranberry to deal with the ex-husband situation?”

My skin went hot. Not just hot. Blazing. An inferno of white heat rolling from my forehead to my toes and back again. Maybe it was the memory of the eleven glorious and seventy-percent naked days I’d spent as his wife. Not glorious or naked enough to keep him, but…whether it was that or my inexplicable and equally flaming embarrassment, I could’ve fried eggs on my skin and served them up with a side of toast and bacon. But I glanced at her. Almost too embarrassed to look at her. I’d fucked up on a grand scale. I had to correct her and didn’t want to. But I did it. “Current husband.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, shit. Houston, we have a tequila situation.”

She went to the kitchen like a woman on a mission and came back with the emergency bottle of Cuervo I kept, usually for her emergencies. She poured me a shot, gestured for me to drink, waited quietly while I did, then sat back again. “Go.”

I shook my head as a picture of Finn, with the beautiful face, the eyes, the body, popped into my head. Why couldn’t I just hate him like a real ex-wife? He left me, broke my heart, and yet the lust was real. “He looks good.”

She nodded, blonde ponytail bobbing.

“Of course, he does.” She took another drink. “Go on.”

“And he smells good.” Like citrus with hints of cinnamon and mint.

“You sniffed him? Oh, Fliss.” She sighed disappointed, and I widened my eyes, unused to being the unhinged one in our relationship.

“No. He hugged me.” With those gloriously strong arms at my waist, his broad chest under my cheek, he achieved hug perfection. At which time there might have been some sniffing.

“He hugged you?” She looked me up and down from my red bandana, dusty overalls, and worn sneakers. Okay. I needed a shower, but I wasn’t near to scaring small children yet.

“Yeah.” I wanted to savor the thought, but she jerked her body forward and stared at me with wide eyes.

“And you didn’t immediately drag him into the bed and wash away that wicked dry spell you’ve been having? Maybe rekindle all those loving feelings?” She refilled my glass.

“No.” We toasted, drank, refilled, and repeated. I had a lot more news to go.

“Good. Good.” She nodded her approval. “Waiting until he left to pleasure yourself was a much better way to go. No emotional attachment.”

And the approval turned to disappointment.