Penny: Are you busy, Big Man?
I hit 'send', trying not to overthink it. Before I can slide my phone back into my sweaty cleavage, the device is ringing in my hand. An incoming call from Walker Kingston is lighting up the screen and immediately, my pulse is an erratic mess.
How am I ever gonna get over this guy?
2
Walker
I hate one-night stands. And from this woman’s body language, I can tell that’s exactly where this is going.
“Wine?”
“A beer, if you have it,” I call after my date as she disappears into her kitchen.
We met at the farmer’s market on Saturday when she bought produce from my table. Karen's red hair was the first thing that caught my eye across the crowded marketplace. But now I see that her hair is all wrong. It’s short and wispy. Not full and long, like I prefer.
Anyway, I'm sitting on her squeaky leather couch, overheating in this damn turtleneck. I pinch the thick knit fabric away from my windpipe and give my sweaty throat some room to breathe.
Penny got me this shirt. I tried to tell her I didn’t need it. I usually stick to simple flannel button-downs. And I have plenty of clothes. Too many, if you ask me. But she had another one of those damned coupons and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I'd never admit to her that I actually wore it. If I did, I’d find fifteen more just like it in my closet within a week. I huff.
Her couponing addiction makes no sense. You wouldn’t expect someone so damn fashionable to spend all her free time sitting around clipping out discounts from department store flyers. But Penny’s many contradictions is just one of the things that makes her so endearing to me.
Don't think about Penny right now, asshole.
Every time I go out with a woman, I spend half the night having imaginary internal conversations with my best friend. It's fucking unhealthy.
To distract myself, I grab one of the glossy magazines sitting on Karen's coffee table.
Discover your Man's G-Spot: 3 Foolproof Sex Tips to Give Your Guy an Orgasm He'll Never Forget
Get Him To Love You: Try this Shocking Mind Trick Tonight and He'll Propose in No Time
6 Easy Workout Routines for Pinchable Butt Cheeks
The Ultimate Sex Study Guide: These 139 Tips Will Make you Irresistible to ANY Man!
I put the magazine back, scratching my head. It's disturbing that women rely on these glossy rags for life advice. Penny keeps a sky-high pile of them on her kitchen counter. I give her crap for them every time I go over there.
Shit, there I go thinking about Penny again.
Karen returns with two glasses of wine, ignoring my drink preference, I guess. I take the glass she offers me and sit awkwardly as she sways to the soft jazz that’s playing on her stereo. I wonder if she learned those moves from her magazine. To be honest, between the annoying music and her weird dancing, I feel like I’m trapped between strangers in an airplane middle seat. That feeling only heightens after she lights a shitload of candlesticks and comes to straddle me on the couch.
I keep my hand occupied with my unwanted glass of wine while she wiggles around my crotch and throws her head back. What the hell is this? I thought she was a bank teller, not a goddamned porn star.
I might lose my man card for admitting it, but I’m so not into this.
I should be. I should be excited about the chance for a sexual connection with a beautiful, eager woman who's into me. I should want to hop into her bed. What is wrong with me?
Look—I’m not the biggest fan of having other people in my personal space. But sometimes, I have needs. On nights like tonight, I need to feel soft, feminine curves beneath my hands, I need to feel big, warm lips vibrating around my cock. My sexual history includes a modest trail of flings and booty calls. I’m not all that proud of it. No-strings sex always leaves me feeling empty.
Sometimes, I think it might be nice to get more out of a relationship. Every now and then, my mind likes to toy around with the idea of having something more. Someone to come home to after a hard day on the farm. Someone to ask about their shitty boss and their asshole coworkers at the dinner table. Someone who'll throw their feet up in my lap and laugh at my lame jokes as we snuggle in front of a roaring fire and sip hot cocoa before bed.
I have no clue where these feelings are coming from. I blame my asshole younger brothers. Eli's marriage went down the shitter when his wife ran off after he got tossed into jail. But Cannon and Jude? I've had to stand by and watch those two fall in love and settle down over the past year. They’re making me look bad. Now that they both have good women by their sides, they look happy.
Maybe that could be me, too...
I glance at the woman enthusiastically gyrating above me.
Maybe not...
My craving for a relationship never lasts long anyway. I value my solitude too much to open my life to another person.
With a seductive grin, Karen peels off her tight top and tosses it at my face. I get hit with the cloud of cherry-scented pollution, otherwise known as her perfume. I gag and blink in shock before grabbing the scrap of fabric and dropping it on the cushion next to me. That's when a perky boob slams me in the face.
My brain has to deliberately remind my body that I’m not supposed to be nauseated by a hot woman’s touch. I’m supposed to be turned on.
But I'm a hopeless case.
This girl is a sure thing. All I need to do is unfasten my belt buckle and I have no doubt she'd move mountains to get me off. But a hot body and wild sex don’t do it for me. It’s not enough. I want more.
Hell, who am I kidding? I
