Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(35)
Author: Monica Murphy

Having sex with Colin, finally letting down my guard and showing him all the many things I want to do to him? How I feel about him?

That’s beyond liberating.

Not that I can tell him how I feel about him with words, no way. That would just freak him out, the very last thing I want to do. But I can show him. Oh, how I can show him! Which I’ve done. Repeatedly. I worried it might be awkward between Colin and me after the first time we had sex, but, um . . . no. It is definitely not awkward.

Hot and amazing, most definitely. We’re insatiable for each other. Being with him at the restaurant last night, watching him while he worked, turned me on so much I could hardly function. All I could think about was him. Having his hands on me. Having my hands on him. I was so aroused I had to sneak into his office on my break and give him a blow job.

What a rush that experience was, despite my past momentarily tarnishing the moment. Reminding me of what I’ve done, that I’d taken money for an act that should be sacred and between two people who care for each other.

But I was able to overcome it pretty quickly. It’s different between us. I care about him, more than I ever thought possible.

I loved how out of control I made him, how quickly he came. I could see how bad he wanted me, could feel it in the clutch of his fingers when he thrust them into my hair, tugging on it. The pleasurable pain had coursed through my veins, pushing me toward my second orgasm in less than ten minutes, which is just . . . insane.

Colin Wilder makes me absolutely insane.

It feels so good, knowing that we are equally invested in this. That we’re dying to get naked for each other every time we’re in the same room. Heck, when we’re breathing the same air. I’ve felt so alone with all of these feelings I’ve had for Colin for far too long. And now we’re in it together.

At this very moment, though, I’m alone. Sitting outside in Colin’s backyard next to the small built-in pool, laid out on a lounge chair and enjoying the late summer sunshine. September doesn’t equal fall in Northern California. It’s still hot as hell most days, this one being no exception. A heat wave has settled over the area, the high today predicted to hit near one hundred.

The late morning air is still cool enough but I can feel the heat coming, the sun shining directly on me. I’m wearing my favorite two-piece swimsuit and desperately wishing Colin were home so he could see me like this. The bikini is skimpy, a bright turquoise, with string ties at my hips and two slivers of triangle fabric covering my br**sts. I can get away with this sort of swimsuit since I’m small-chested and kinda skinny.

I’d always wanted the blond hair and gigantic boobs that Colin tends to go for, but I’ve become incredibly comfortable with my body these last few days. Comfortable in regard to how Colin sees me. He thinks I’m beautiful. Sexy. He makes me feel confident in my own skin, something I’ve never experienced before. I love the fact that he’s so appreciative of my curves, my br**sts, that he doesn’t make me feel cheap.

When we got home last night he stripped me naked without giving me a chance to say a word, not that I was protesting. He laid me out on his bed and proceeded to map every single inch of my skin with his mouth. And when I say he kissed me everywhere, I mean everywhere. Even in embarrassing places no man had ever attempted to kiss me before.

I came three times last night. I can feel myself growing wet just remembering what he did to me, how far he pushed me out of my comfort zone.

How much I liked it.

Sighing and with a little squirm, I try to push thoughts of Colin out of my head and concentrate on the fashion magazine in front of me. I flip through the pages, bored with the clothing, the endless ads full of gorgeous, smiling women who exude confidence. The entire magazine is full of articles along those lines. About creating a confident you and finding the perfect career you’re destined to have. How to have the best sex of your life—already found that, thanks bunches—the best clothes, the best everything. I know reading these articles is supposed to inspire me. But instead with every article I skim, I become more depressed.

And full of doubt.

Is leaving really the right decision? Now that I have Colin’s unwavering attention, should I just up and walk away from him as I originally planned? Of course, the reason I might have his attention is because he knows it’s temporary. It’s easier to commit to something that won’t last, that has a deadline. A finite ending.

Right?

The fact that I have no real plan is scary too. I did find a possible roommate via an online ad site whom I spoke to on the phone earlier. She’s a year younger than me, a junior in college, and works part-time. She just lost her old roommate and is trying to do everything all on her own, and she’s failing miserably. Drowning in the endless bills that come with being a responsible adult, a roommate would totally ease her financial burden. And mine, of course.

She sounded ideal, so I committed to her and sent her the deposit money via PayPal not even an hour ago. Then I ran into the bathroom and immediately threw up. I’m so freaked out over whether I’m doing the right thing I’m making myself sick over it.

This is by far the toughest decision I’ve ever made in my life.

Tossing the magazine on the tiny table next to me, I readjust the lounge chair so it’s pretty much flat and lie down, closing my eyes. I should not be soaking up the sun with skin cancer being prevalent and all, but I slathered myself in sunscreen before I came outside. The heat feels good on my mostly bare skin and deciding to be daring, I untie my bikini top, letting the strings drop so I won’t have tan lines across my chest.

One wrong move and the top goes bye-bye, but who’s going to see? I’m alone out here. The people who live on either side of Colin both work, so there are no stay-at-home moms hovering, no little kids running around in their backyards. I could sit out here naked and skinny-dip in the pool. No one would be the wiser.

Deciding to go for it, I sit up and untie the string that stretches across my back, flinging the top onto the ground. I sigh with satisfaction as I settle back down onto the lounger, adjusting my sunglasses and closing my eyes to the too-bright sun.

Just for a few minutes, I tell myself. I’ll lie here for a little bit and let the sun warm skin I don’t normally expose at all. It feels good, almost . . . sexual. Well, everything these last few days has felt sexual what with the constant state of arousal I’ve been living in.

I’ve been with other men, too many of them probably, though I keep my numbers to myself. Then there are the ones no one knows about, the ones that don’t count. The ones who paid me money for a quick good time, money I’d desperately needed.