Her delighted squeal did something funny to my insides.
“I can’t wait,” she purred, a bit silly, a bit serious, entirely endearing.
An absence of noise alerted me that the shower was off, and I looked toward the bathroom door. “I must go, darling. Emir is still here, and I don’t want to be rude. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, Sophie.” In the most reckless way possible, I loved her.
A moment after we hung up, Emir stepped out of the bathroom, a towel tucked tight around his waist.
“God, your body is magnificent,” I said with a dismayed chuckle.
To my surprise, he blushed at the compliment and couldn’t meet my eyes. “How long are you in London?”
“Just until tomorrow. My flight leaves at three.” I swung my legs beneath the duvet. I could take care of the sex toys and incriminating wrappers in the morning. All I wanted was to settle in for the night. “And you? What do you have planned for this trip?”
“I will be here until Friday. My wife is flying into Heathrow.” A wistful note to his words echoed my own homesickness for Sophie.
“Separate holidays?” Was that too personal a subject? Less than twenty minutes ago, his cock had been in my ass; it didn’t seem as though a slightly more personal interest would be out of place.
“She is in Belize with her girlfriend.” He smiled sadly. “It is not an arrangement that always make me happy, but I am glad that she has so much love in her life.”
“I’m not sure I would be comfortable with Chloe having another romantic partner,” I admitted, though it felt a bit patriarchal and condescending. The thought of her having sex with another person didn’t bother me at all; I had quite liked watching Emir fuck her. But the mere suggestion of sharing her love brought with it a crippling insecurity that I couldn’t bear to contemplate.
“That is why you direct who she fucks?” Emir nodded in understanding. “I know she did not pick me out in the club.”
“On the contrary, she was quite attracted to you. But you are right, I made the final decision in that situation.” Sophie’s interest in him had caught my attention, but ultimately I’d been the one to suggest it go further. “I don’t know how you manage your arrangement with your wife, but I commend you for doing it and being so happy.”
“Yes, I am happy,” he said, but after a thoughtful pause he added, “Sometimes, I need a distraction.”
I looked up at the television over the bed. I’d probably leave it on tonight, just for the company.
“Why not stay here? We can watch mindless telly all night?” I patted the bed. “We’ll still be lonely and miserable, but at least we won’t be doing it alone.”
“I would not wish to be an imposition.” But even as he said it, he was slipping off his towel.
I scooted over to Sophie’s side. There was still a very strange, very jealous part of me that wanted to be between them always. And yet, my sympathy toward his compromise with his wife made him less of a threat to me.
What a completely bizarre thing it is, the intersection of personal relationships and feelings.
“I want to thank you,” I said, watching him fluff the pillows beneath him. “This was an enlightening experience.”
“Oh?” He turned onto his side, propped on his elbow. “Then perhaps we should do this again.”
“Yes, I dare say we should.” I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting the peace of a dozen final decisions wash over my brain. “And I believe I’m going to have a lot of free time in the future.”
Abigail Barnette is the alter-ego of author, blogger, and all-around funny person, Jenny Trout. Writing as Jennifer Armintrout, she made the USA Today Bestseller list with Blood Ties Book One: The Turning. Her novel American Vampire was named one of the top ten horror novels of 2011 by Booklist Online. When she’s not writing award-winning erotic romance, she’s either sleeping or otherwise incapacitated. She is a proud Michigander, mother of two, and wife to the only person capable of spending extended periods of time with her without wanting to murder her.
The Bride (The Boss) Page 43