I’ve never met the woman, but I’m going out on a limb and saying that I don’t like her. Not at all. Not even one little bit.
I realize I’m staring again, and so I pull out my phone and make an effort to go through my emails. The attempt is futile—I see words, but they make no sense to me at the moment.
At least not until a text message flashes across my screen.
Watch.
It’s from Dallas, of course, and my body tightens merely from seeing his name. I react on instinct—my head lifting, my eyes going straight to where he stands with Skull Girl. He’s not looking in my direction, but I know that he is aware of me. He always is. Just as I’m always aware of him.
I stand, my feet like weights holding me in place as I watch the scene unfolding in front of me. Dallas and the woman standing near the pool, chatting casually with a few of the guests. Dallas’s hand, brushing lightly against her bare back. His fingers trailing down her spine, then over the halter’s tie at her waist.
I expect his hand to stroke the soft leather and cup her ass, but that isn’t what happens. Instead, his nimble fingers unfasten the button of her waistband, loosening it just enough so that he can slip his hand inside her skirt and slide it down over her ass. For just a fraction of an instant, he looks up, his eyes finding mine. Heat pours through me, turning me liquid, making me wet.
I know what he is doing—we’ve done this before. Him touching another woman. Me watching. And both of us pretending that he is touching me.
The first time, it was hotter than sin. I’d been alone in a bathroom, watching the scenario play out on video. We weren’t together yet—in fact we were doing everything to stay apart—and that moment had been a turning point for both of us. A bold—albeit completely fucked up—statement of just how badly we wanted each other. Of what we were willing to do.
Of how far we were willing to go.
I bite my lower lip and swallow, wanting to take what I know he is giving, but also wanting to run far and fast. My reaction surprises me—but at the same time it doesn’t. I don’t want this. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s exciting.
But I really, really don’t want it.
Before, it had been my only option. Vicarious lust. Fantasy fucking. I’d allowed myself to get lost in a sensual haze while I watched him with another woman. I’d touched myself and come violently, over and over again, pretending that it was Dallas stroking me. Knowing it was me that he wanted, and that the woman with her mouth on his cock was nothing more than a poor substitute.
But back then, I wasn’t his. Not yet. Not really.
Now I am.
Now he can have me whenever and however he wants.
Except that’s not really true. Because he can’t have me now. He can’t touch me here in his own backyard. Not with all these people around.
He and I have to stay in the shadows. But he can fondle Skull Girl whenever the hell he wants to.
God. Fucking. Dammit.
I turn away, my skin still tingling. My breasts still tight. I want to watch—so help me, I do.
But I really, really don’t want to want to.
The door to the cabana is now right in front of me—our cabana. Where it all began between us, and where we finally, fully committed to each other, promising that we would somehow, someway, make this impossible situation work.
Memories flood over me as I move toward the door. I want to lose myself in them even if I can’t lose myself in the man.
I push the curtain aside, then stop dead. I don’t know the people on the daybed, but I know only too well what they’re doing. I watch, transfixed, as a fully clothed man with his fly down thrusts his cock into a very naked, very willing woman.
I make a small noise, my hand going immediately over my mouth to stifle it, but I make no move to leave. I’m hidden from their view, I think. From where I stand, I am mostly behind the man, at an angle to the daybed. There is the curtain behind me that leads to the pool deck, and also a solid sliding pocket door that I’m surprised they didn’t close and lock. Maybe they didn’t know it was there.
In front of me are two more layers of gauzy curtains, designed both for both privacy and to repel bugs in the evening. The lighting is dim, and although I’m sure they would realize I was there if they looked closely, I know from experience that they would see only shadows. And that so long as I don’t move, they probably won’t even notice me.
I don’t move a muscle.
Instead, I stand perfectly still, lost in the hot, decadent scene that is playing out in front of me. I don’t care about these people, and I don’t want to. Instead, I’m imagining that it’s me on the bed, my body stripped bare. That it’s Dallas behind me, still dressed for the party, his fly down, his cock hard and thick and thrusting inside me.