The Dance (45 page)

“How come?”

Please say because you needed to hear my voice.

There was a long pause as I heard a deep intake of hesitation. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

Even better.

“I wanted to hear your voice too. In fact, I was lying here wondering how I was going to get to sleep tonight without it.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you’re in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Under the covers?”

“My legs are but the rest of me isn’t.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are we about to have oral sex?” I blurted out.

“You mean phone sex.”

“Right, right, right. Sorry. I’ve never done it before.”

“You wanna?”

“Hell yeah!”

Just the mention of phone sex from that voice had my body burning.

Hart cleared his throat and continued. “I’m about to start the phone sex portion of the call.”

I took a quick glance at my phone making sure it was charged enough.

“Good deal. I’m ready to get sexed up.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Bryson, you kill me. What position are you in?”

“I’m leaning against the headboard.”

“Slide down but don’t cover yourself up.”

I wiggled farther in the bed. “Okay.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I have on pink-and-red striped pj’s from Victoria’s Secret.”

I figured if he knew where my pj’s came from it would help with the visualization. Hart drew in a sharp breath on the other end of the phone.

“Tell me what they look like.”

“Um . . . well, they’re really cute and soft.”

“Soft against your skin?”

“Yeah, against my skin.” A nervous giggle flew out of me. “Sorry.”

“I like making you laugh.”

Clutching the comforter, I continued. “The silk felt incredible sliding up my thighs and over my ass.”

A low growl hit my ear. “God . . . keep going.”

“The shirt has long sleeves and stops just above my belly button. It’s kind of tight so I had to undo the first top three buttons to give my ches . . . I mean, my tits more room.”

“Are your nipples hard?”

My stomach clenched. “Yes.”

“Touch them.”

Slipping my hand underneath my shirt, I dragged my nails across my hot skin until I was massaging my breast.

“Are you touching them?”

“Yes.” A soft moan escaped me.

Hart swallowed hard. “Think about my fingers pinching your nipples.”

I squeezed my knees together. “Oh.”

“Take your shirt off.”

“I have to put the phone down for a sec.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Laying the phone on my pillow, I sat up in bed. I peeled the shirt over my head and tossed it to the side. I nestled down deep into the bed, bringing the comforter over my head like Hart had done the first night we were together. His heavy breathing coming from the other end caused my core to tighten as I wiggled with need.

“I’m back,” I whispered.

Wasting no time, he commanded. “Suck your index finger into your mouth.”

I brought my hand to my mouth and did as he instructed.

“Close your eyes. Picture my tongue sliding in and out of your mouth while my hand glides up your inner thigh.”

A low and long moan seeped out of me.

“Fuck.” He breathed. “Run your wet finger down to your tits. God, I love having your tits in my mouth, Bryson.”

I love the way my name rumbled out of his mouth. My back arched off the bed.

“Do you like when I lick you?”

I wiggled like a worm, hoping for some friction. “Mmm . . . Yeees!”

“What’s your favorite thing for me to lick?” he asked through a ragged breath.

“Everything!”

Another deep growl vibrated through the phone. “You know what my favorite thing is?”

“No.” I whimpered.

“When my face is buried in your hot pussy.”

It felt like a river between my legs. “Hart, I’m wet and . . .”

I needed relief and soon. I knew all I had to do was to touch myself and I was off to the races. But for some unexplained reason I knew it wouldn’t be as satisfying unless Hart told me to do it. So I waited.

“Do you feel me sucking you dry?”

A yell flew out of me as I fisted the sheets.

“Hart . . .”

“Slip your little finger into your soaked panties and slide it into that pussy I can’t get enough of.”

I wasted no time in carrying out his orders. My back sprang off the bed as my finger sought relief between my legs. I exploded in an instant, screaming his name. A loud growl roared from the speaker as I heard Hart come.

Gasping, he said, “Bryson, the sound of you coming is so fucking hot.”

Still riding the pleasure wave, the only responses I was able to give him at that moment were gasps, some moans, whimpers, and an occasional “oh god.”

“When can I see you?” Raw desire laced his words.

“Give me a sec to calm down. I’m all a buzz.” That raspy chuckle that I never got tired of vibrated in my ear. “To-to-morrow?”

“I hope I can make it until then.”

“I hope I can function until then.” I sighed. Through my haze it occurred to me what I wanted to tell him. “Hey, I got my first paycheck today!”

“How’d it feel?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Incredible! Not as incredible as this little chat tonight but incredible nonetheless.”

Laughing he said, “God, I love you . . . o . . . odels.”

My eyes widened as I bolted straight up in bed. “What?! You love what?”

“Yodels. Drakes Yodels. You know the delicious chocolate snack cake with cream inside.”

“What do Yodels have to do with anything?”

“Bryson, fucking you wears me out, in person or on the phone. I gotta keep up my strength.”

My entire body flinched. I knew Hart was shocked that he let
I love you
slip and was trying to cover it up. Just like when he throws out the
just friends
comments. He wants to make sure I remember what this was between us. Temporary fuck buddies. But the tone in his voice reminded me of Will’s. I always felt degraded and cheap with Will’s version of dirty talk. With Hart, those same words made me feel sexy, wanted, and cherished until this moment.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. “It’s late. I better let you go.”

Hart was quiet for such a long time I thought he’d hung up.

“Uh . . . I’m really proud of you, Bryson.”

Swallowing hard, I barely choked out. “Thanks.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath followed by another long pause. “The . . . um . . . first paycheck is . . . congratulations.”

This was the first time I’d witnessed Hart being at a loss for words.

I sniffled as I ran my finger over my cheek, wiping away the trickling tear. “Goodnight, Hart.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Goodnight, Bryson.”

I laid the phone on the nightstand. Flopping back on the bed, I pulled the comforter over my head before letting the sobs take over. With lightning speed, I’d gone from being unbelievably happy to feeling like shit. How did I get here? I’d worked hard to keep my feelings under control. But falling for Hart had been effortless and moving on from him was going to be impossible.

The pain I experienced during my marriage was nothing compared to the pain I’d been in the past three days. It made me sad to think a guy I’d basically known for a few months had more of an impact on me than the guy I’d spent ten years of my life with. But it was true. I hated to admit it because of the years spent with him and the commitment I made to him, but Will never had all of my heart. Just like I had no frame of reference for a failed marriage, I had no frame of reference for what it felt like to be truly connected and in love with someone . . . until Hart.

At one time Will gave me butterflies in my stomach, flutters in my heart, and tingles everywhere else. But everything lacked the heart-stopping, breathtaking intensity that consumes your entire being when you connect with your soulmate. In the short time Hart had been in my life, my heart had stopped and my breath had been taken every time I thought about him or saw him or touched him or heard his voice. I’d already spent a decade of my life with a man who never wanted me, for me. I knew I couldn’t move on with Hart, who was scared of making a commitment to me. But just thinking about it was ripping me to pieces.

I forced myself not to contact Hart after our late-night phone-capade. It was excruciating not hearing his rasp or being in his arms. But the worst thing was not seeing his name pop up on my phone screen. I guess I wasn’t worth the effort after all. My new daily routine consisted of crying my eyes out before work, work, and coming home, not sleeping after Nancy forced me to leave work. There were many upsides to working for a caterer. One of which was we were busier toward the end of the week and the weekends. My self-imposed Hart blackout started on Thursday, making it easy to completely immerse myself.

For the next three days with the help of my special cocktail of coffee and Red Bull with a splash of Red Bull, I was the first to arrive in the morning and last to leave at night. To her credit, Nancy never pried into why I’d started spending my entire life at the catering company. She just let me get lost in the food. During the holidays, Nancy operated the business seven days a week. The slower times of the year she preferred to close on Sundays and Mondays unless a huge high-profile event had been booked. Our busy season was only a couple of weeks away. While all my co-workers were relishing the calm before the storm, I was dreading the next two days off.

I spent Sunday morning cleaning the entire house. Like a madwoman, I scoured the place from top to bottom. When I was done with the house, I decided to go for a run. I wasn’t a runner but had heard it helped clear your head. I made it halfway down the street and realized why I wasn’t a runner. I hated it. Besides, I kept thinking how fun it would be to have Butter run alongside me. That led to Hart thoughts.

I was getting so desperate for a distraction that I almost texted Will to see if he wanted to discuss the divorce settlement. He was another guy I’d had no contact with recently. There had been a few texts back and forth about setting up a time to meet or at least talk on the phone but nothing ever came of it. I wasn’t sure why he was dragging his feet. I assumed he’d accepted the fact that we were over and he’d told his parents the news. I found it strange and a little unsettling being in divorce limbo. In one of his texts he promised his salary would continue to go into our joint account and we’d discuss the house soon. I decided replacing one stress for another wasn’t a good idea so I pushed Will and the divorce to one side.

By late afternoon I was climbing the walls. I couldn’t stay here for one more minute twiddling my thumbs. The more I twiddled the more my mind drifted straight to Hart. I grabbed my phone and texted Sophie.

Me:
You home?

Sophie:
Yes! Got in late last night. Leave again on Wed. Was about to check on you.

Me:
I’m off today and tomorrow. I need to get out of the house. Wanna have dinner? Catch a movie? I could just come over if you’re tired. Maybe we could do something tomorrow too.

I babbled even in my texts.

Sophie:
My, my, aren’t you full of options. Pack a bag. We’re havin’ us a good old fashion SLEEPOVER!

Me:
Be there within the hour.

Sophie:
The wine be a chillin’.

I smiled reading her text. Leave it to my best friend to make me feel good, even if it was only for half a second.

Between her traveling, my job, and time with Hart, Sophie and I hadn’t been able to spend any quality girl time together. We called or texted every day but it wasn’t the same as being face to face. Sophie kept trying to get me to Facetime and I always made some lame excuse not to. I could control my voice better than my expression, which made it a little easier to convince her I was happy and all was great. I kept the subject of Hart to a minimum with her. Since the basketball game she told me on a semi-regular basis her fear that I would lose myself in him. She about went ballistic when I told her Hart and I were sleeping together. That was when she knew for sure I was going to get hurt. I hated when she was right.