Thinking About You

by Monica Murphy

“I met a man last night. And…I slept with him.”

  Evie’s quiet for a moment. “Did you actually sleep with him or have sex with him?”

  “I had sex with him,” I say quietly. “Many times.”

  “How many times?”

  “I…lost count.”

  Evie whistles low. “Seriously? Was he any good? What am I asking, he had to be good. You lost count.”

  “He was the best I’ve ever had,” I confess.

  “Better than Colin?” She knows I judge all dates by Colin standards.

  “Much better,” I say with emphasis. “In every way better than Colin, if you understand what I’m saying.”

  “Whoa, so are you telling me you found someone who’s better at going down on a woman than Colin?” Even Evie thinks Colin is the king of lady head. She’s heard all the stories, all the lurid details. We share everything, Evie and I.

  “Yes,” I say eagerly, wishing I could go into more detail.

  Or…hmm. Maybe not. Maybe I shouldn’t go into full detail about last night. What happened between Cannon and me should be private. Sacred.

  “Who is this man with the magical mouth?” Evie asks.

  “He has a magical dick too.” There goes my plan on keeping my moment with Cannon private and sacred.

  “Seriously? I’m so jealous, darling. I haven’t had good dick since I don’t know when,” Evie gushes. She’s called herself a connoisseur of dick before, so I guess she should know.

  “He’s also very sweet.” I think of all the nice gestures he made last night. He was a gentleman, yet a complete pervert too. It was an intoxicating mixture, I can’t deny it.

  “Who is this unicorn of a man?”

  “Here’s the thing. He’s a footballer.”

  “Oh God. You know I’ve had a few of those,” she says, sounding completely horrified.

  “An American footballer,” I add.

  “Oh.” Now she sounds intrigued. “Is he one of those blokes who’s over here for the exhibition game?”

  “He is.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Cannon Whittaker.”

  “What a name. Cannon. I’m looking him up on my iPad,” Evie says.

  “No, don’t look him up!”

  But it’s too late. She finds him in seconds. I can tell by the way she goes quiet.

  “I hate you. He’s fucking beautiful!” Evie yells.

  I pull the phone away from my ear with a wince. “He’s attractive, yes.”

  “He’s one big giant hunk of muscle,” Evie says. “He’s massive.”

  “In every way you can think,” I add.

  “Oh, you smug bitch,” Evie says with a laugh. “I can hear it in your voice. Clearly he gave you plenty of orgasms.”

  “So many,” I say with a sigh, remembering the various ways he made them happen.

  “I hate you so much.”

  “No, you love me so much. Like I love you. Now I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can get together for brunch. Lunch. Dinner. Drinks. Something. Bye!”

  I end the call before she can say anything else and grab a gray jumper, pulling it over my head and walking over to the mirror that hangs above my dresser. I have a serious thing for gray, clearly.

  I smooth my hair down with my hand, frowning. I need to straighten it. If I don’t, it gets too curly for my liking, especially when it’s so damp outside, and I end up looking like a poodle.

  After straightening my hair into submission, I find a hole in my jumper and I shuck it off, frustration making me groan aloud. My jeans—all three pairs of them—are either in the washing basket or don’t fit me right. I can’t go in leggings and a sweatshirt—I’ll look like a bum off the street. And I can’t wear a dress…

  My gaze snags on yet another blue dress hanging in my wardrobe. With a sigh, I go to it, take the dress off the hanger, and slip it on. I turn this way and that, checking my reflection, and realize that it will do.

  Perhaps he’ll think I’m too stuffy, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I stand in my itty-bitty loo and apply mascara on my lashes, then slick on a pink shimmery lipgloss, all the while fighting my mental worry. Last night with me wearing a dress and oh so formal with the Lady Susanna bit, he might’ve found me intriguing at first, but in his element, at a game, he’ll see me for what I really am. A leftover debutante who works at an art gallery as a way to keep myself occupied while waiting to find a proper British gentleman to marry—one preferably with a title.

  That is my parents’ wish. That was my wish too, approximately two years ago, when I was twenty-one and feeling desperate to get a ring on my finger. So many of my friends were already engaged, and I wanted that. At the very least, I wanted to be involved in a long-term relationship.

  Whatever I could manage, I’d take it.

  The relationship thing didn’t happen, though. Two years later, and I’m still listless. Drifting in a sea of single people, yet not fully putting myself out there. Part of the reason? I’m over it. If it’s supposed to happen, I’ll meet the man of my dreams and it will all fall into place from there.

  That’s what’s scary. Meeting Cannon last night felt downright serendipitous. As if we were meant to be. The amazing connection, the sex, all of it seemed so…

  Right.

  Too right.

  And that’s frightening, when I consider the fact that the man doesn’t even live here. He’s not British. He’s an American. A famous American celebrity football player who’s probably only in it for the sex and that’s it.

  Don’t go, the little voice inside my head whispers as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Stay home and clean up. Do your washing. Forget the brash American with the foul mouth.

  Ignoring the little voice, I exit the loo, grab my coat and my bag, and leave my flat. I don’t want to forget the brash American with the foul mouth. I want to see him again.

  I need to.

  “I heard you have a new friend and she’s waiting for you,” Jordan says as we exit the locker room together.

  “How the hell do you know that?” Even I wasn’t sure if Susanna had made it to the game. By the time I got here, I barely had any time to change and get out on the field for practice. The coaches were pissed—I was the last one to arrive, and they gave me plenty of hell for it.

  But last night with Susanna had been worth their anger.

  “Mandy told me. She sent me a text,” Jordan says, talking about his girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. Possible current girlfriend. I’m still confused about their relationship status. “Said she’s really sweet.”

  “She is.” Her mouth is sweet. So is her pussy. Everything about Susanna is sweet as fucking heaven, but I can’t really focus on that right now. “What’s going on with you and Amanda anyway?”

  “We’re together.” The possessive tone in Jordan’s voice is a giveaway. I doubt he’ll let Amanda go again, not like last time, when we were younger and, I guess, dumber. “Like we’re supposed to be.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I tell him, and it’s true. Those two are meant to be. That whole destiny, fate thing that people say we can’t avoid proves true for Jordan and Amanda. And pondering my destiny makes reexamine my evening with Susanna. Were we meant to meet each other last night? Normally I think that sounds like a bunch of silly shit, but the connection I feel to this woman is so strong, I can’t ignore it.

  As in, I’m currently dying to see her. Like anxious, jonesing-for-her-type behavior. I only do this when I fall hard, so I’m guessing I’ve…

  Fallen hard.

  Dangerous, right? I can’t do this. I know I shouldn’t. Yet here I am trying to control my pace as I walk beside Tuttle so I don’t break out into a run in my search for Susanna.

  “They’re together right now. Amanda and Susanna. Waiting for us,” Jordan says, and I barely hear him. My eyes are searching for her, my body tense in fear that maybe she left. Maybe she didn’t want to see me after all.


  But then I spot her. Standing next to Amanda just like Tuttle said she would be, looking as nervous as I feel, wearing a light blue dress that reminds me of the one she had on last night, and I can’t help but wonder if she ever forgets her panties when she’s wearing a dress.

  I won’t protest. Easy access and all.

  Jordan goes straight to Amanda and hugs and kisses her. I want to do the same, but the moment I get close to Susanna, she’s giving off a weird vibe. She seems nervous. Agitated. Uncomfortable even.

  “Hey,” I tell her, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her in. Fuck it, she’s getting a hug. But when I wrap my arms around her, she’s stiff, and I release her immediately.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Hi.” Her voice is shaky and she can barely meet my gaze. “You played wonderfully.”

  “Could you figure out what was happening?”

  Her smile is faint. “Not particularly. But I still enjoyed it.”

  “Good.” I scrub a hand along my jaw and she gives a little shrug.

  I can’t have this. We need a buffer tonight. “Yo, Tuttle.” He doesn’t hear me, so I clear my throat and speak louder. “What are your plans tonight?”

  Jordan and Amanda turn to face us, and he frowns when he takes us in. “Not sure. All I know is I’m starving.”

  “Same,” Amanda adds.

  “All four of us should go to dinner,” I suggest, slipping my arm around Susanna’s shoulders and hauling her in close. I will wear her down, even if it takes me all night. “What do you think?”

  “That sounds fantastic,” Susanna says, staring up at me with adoring eyes, and the tension eases in my chest a bit.

  “Yes, let’s go to dinner. Have any suggestions, Susanna?” Amanda asks her.

  Susanna nods with an enthusiastic grin. “Definitely. I can even drive us! I brought the family car.”

  The family car? I don’t get it. She lives on her own yet drives the family car.

  We walk out into the mostly empty parking lot, Susanna heading straight for an older, silver Mercedes.

  “It’s a beastly thing,” she says as we approach it. “My father drove it as a teen, if you can even imagine. It’s one of the safest cars on the road. That’s why he insists I drive it.”

  “Protecting his baby girl?” I tease, reaching out and tugging on the ends of her hair.

  Susanna darts away from me with a short yelp, a worried look suddenly crossing her face. “That and, well, I wasn’t the best driver when I first started out.”

  Uh oh. “Maybe I should drive,” I say, concern filling me.

  “No, no. I know the roads far better than you ever could, and besides, you drive on the wrong side of the road.” She waves a hand, offers up nervous laughter. “We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  I want to trust her. Actually, I do trust her.

  The realization is wild. Eye opening. Mind bending.

  And I don’t know what to do about it. About…this. Us.

  Guess I’m just gonna go with it.

  We all climb into the large sedan, and I feel like I can barely fit myself in the passenger seat. I really am a giant, especially in these European cars. I’m putting on my seatbelt when I notice Susanna reaching into a small compartment below the radio. She pulls out a pair of glasses and puts them on.

  “My driving glasses,” she tells me when she catches me looking. I can’t stop staring. She looks damn cute in those black oversized frames. “They really do help.”

  My heart lurches in my chest. “Holy shit, you’re adorable,” I tell her as I lean over and press a smacking kiss on her cheek, making her laugh.

  She pulls out of the parking lot, and soon we’re driving through the wet London streets, Susanna peering closely over the steering wheel. She’s kind of freaking me out, so I remain quiet, which enables us both to listen to Jordan and Amanda’s conversation from the backseat. They’re talking about me. And Susanna.

  “I did mention she’s the daughter of an earl?” Amanda says rather loudly. “Meaning she’s nobility.”

  “Actually, we’re distant relatives of the queen, so yes,” Susanna adds. “We’re technically part of the royal family.” Susanna glances in the rearview mirror, and I assume she’s making eye contact with Amanda. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “I should apologize. We’re the ones blatantly talking about you in the back of your car,” Amanda says, sounding contrite.

  “Saying only good things I hope.” Susanna nibbles on her lower lip, looking nervous.

  “I’m just giving Jordan the rundown,” Amanda explains. “He didn’t know who you were, so I was letting him know.”

  “She’s my future girlfriend,” I say, my voice full of pride. Damn, I couldn’t stop that from coming out if I tried. What the hell am I doing?

  Susanna shoves at my shoulder, but I barely move. It’ll take a lot more strength to shove me around, and she’s kinda weak. “Please. You’re leaving in a few days.”

  “I’ll miss you.” I mean every word, and she glances over at me, surprise filling her eyes. “You’ll spend the next few days with me, right?”

  “Um…”

  A horn honks and Susanna jerks the steering wheel to the right, causing the Mercedes to veer sharply. Another horn sounds and she hits the brakes, glaring at me once she has everything under control.

  “You’re distracting me,” she accuses, and I smile.

  “Stop distracting her,” Jordan says, his voice firm. I glance over my shoulder to see he appears thoroughly freaked out. “I want to make it to the restaurant in one piece.”

  “You have to leave me alone,” Susanna admonishes. “Your friend is nervous because of my driving.”

  “Fine.” I cross my arms, clamping my hands beneath my armpits. That’s the only way I can keep my hands to myself during the rest of the drive.

  The minute we get in the restaurant, though, all bets are off. I’m touching her.

  I’m gonna touch her all damn night.

  We’re at a small Italian restaurant that Susanna’s been to before—probably on another one of her dates—and the four of us ate so much food and drank so much wine, I know we all feel fat and lazy.

  Well, I know I’m feeling that way.

  But I catch Susanna ogling the dessert menu, her eyes wide and her lips parted, looking sexy as fuck, and I know she wants more.

  Grabbing the laminated page from Susanna’s fingers, I scan it before I suggest, “Let’s order the entire dessert menu. They all sound amazing.”

  “That’s because they are amazing.” Susanna grabs the menu from me once more and looks it over, her lips moving as she counts the items. “But we can’t eat them all, Cannon. There’s too many!”

  “We can try,” I say with a shrug, taking back the menu again. They do all sound pretty damn good, and if we can’t finish them, so what? Not like I can’t afford it.

  I have a little argument with the server only because he can’t believe we’re ordering every single dessert, and once he’s gone Susanna leans toward me, her hair falling forward as she speaks.

  “You indulge me too much,” she murmurs, her hand resting briefly on my thigh.

  “I like indulging you.” I rest my hand over hers, keeping it where I want it. “You make it easy.”

  She blushes prettily. “I like your friends.”

  I glance across the table at Jordan and Amanda, their heads bent, appearing deep in conversation.

  “I’m glad. Pretty sure they like you too.” I squeeze her hand and she squeezes my thigh, and all I can think about is getting her naked.

  “What should we do after dessert?” She raises her brows, her expression expectant as she waits for my answer. When I take too long to speak—too captivated by her pretty face to find words—a frown appears. “You’re probably tired.”

  “I’m not.” And that’s not a lie. For a man who barely got any sleep last night, I’m full of energy.

  “Maybe we could go to my favor
ite pub. It’s not too far from here,” she suggests hopefully.

  “You have a favorite pub?” I ask, a little surprised.

  “Everyone should have a favorite pub,” she scoffs, apparently offended by my question. “A place to hang out with your friends, have a few drinks and a good time. So yes, I definitely have a favorite pub.”

  “You are a constant surprise, do you know that?” I grab her hand and bring it to my mouth, dropping a quick kiss on her fingers. “Let’s go to your favorite pub.”

  But I can guarantee we won’t stay there for very long.

  After dessert, we don’t go to my favorite pub.

  Jordan and Amanda—I adored them so much!—made their excuses and headed back to the hotel. They barely stayed for dessert, they were so eager to get out of there. I envied them in that moment. So obviously in love and able to be together with no obstacles whatsoever—how very lucky they are.

  Cannon and I, there are too many obstacles. Ones I don’t want to confront tonight, so I push them aside and focus on the here and now. I’m going to take advantage of this moment and hopefully have another multi-orgasmic night like we did yesterday.

  But as we exit the restaurant and make our way along the pavement, I realize I feel as if my stomach is going to explode, I’m so full of food and good wine, though I don’t feel tipsy, not even a little bit. I think all the desserts soaked up the alcohol.

  “I shouldn’t have sampled any of those desserts,” I groan to Cannon as we find my car. One hand resting on my belly, I unlock the doors with my other hand and we both slide into the car, Cannon coming right for me before I can say or do anything.

  He proceeds to maul me for approximately five minutes. We kiss and kiss until my jaw hurts, and somehow during the process, Cannon turned into an octopus.

  Hands everywhere. Touching me in all the right places.

  Not that I’m protesting.

  “Okay,” I say a few minutes later when we come up for air, breathless and dizzy, shifting my dress around so it settles back into its proper place. “Shall we go to the pub now?”

  He rests his hand on my knee, slowly sliding it up my thigh so it slips beneath the hem of my dress. “You really want to go have a few beers, Sus?”