*Jordan

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing here? If anyone sees me, it's all over. All my hopes, all these years I've spent proving to this goddamn town that I'm a good person. I hate it, playing the victim when I am the victim, trying to endlessly convince them it's the truth.

I take the steering wheel, gripping it hard it to keep my hands from shaking. I'm at the back of the Forest Path Inn, barely a glorified motel from a better time, when tourists rolled in on a regular basis on their way south to California or wherever tourists used to go.

There's a trash bin and another car, probably belonging to an employee, in the small space behind the motel and the forest it's named for.

Room twenty. All I have to do is get out of the car and walk to room twenty. Then have sex.

I'm trembling and I hate myself for showing this weakness. I haven't had sex since before Trey left. The last time was when he threw me on the bed, yelling that I was a bitch. Did that even count?

What should I do? I know what Sharon would say. I know what she would do, too. But me. What the hell should I do?

I let go of the steering wheel. For starters, I will get out of the car and walk around to the front of the building. If the coast is clear, then I'll decide if I go up or not.

Now. I can do this.

Still shaking, I crawl out of my car and ease the door closed quietly. No use in drawing attention to myself.

Too bad I don't have a hat. Even though the sky is a dark purple with the beginning of night, I put on my large sunglasses and walk confidently all the way to the side of the building. Unable to drop old habits, I pause at the corner to check the parking lot and the road that runs past the motel. This is the same road I take going back and forth to work near the city. Where my sweet babies come to get some extra attention and creative play time with me and each other.

This career is something I have made for myself, meaningful work that I fought hard to do, putting myself through college for the degree. I'm not the useless slut Trey accused me of being. Meeting up with Cole in his room for sex doesn't make a slut, either, women are allowed to enjoy casual hookups.

Right. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you'll start to believe. Maybe you'll believe in unicorn-kittens that fly on rainbows, too.

I shake my head to get my thoughts back to the present.

There are two cars in the parking lot, both from out of state. One of them must be Cole's—my guess is the gorgeously maintained Corvette with California plates. Traffic is light on the road this late in the evening, so it's now or never.

But I can't make my feet go up the stairs to the second floor. Anyone could drive by and notice me. I lean against the bricks, face to the back of the building.

God, I had such a crush on him when I was a teenager. The dark haired, scowling boy who I know was torn up inside, but hid it to the whole world. I loved him. Madly. Stupidly. I would stay up at night, flipping in my bed, sweaty and nervous. I'd imagine every scenario and conversation I might have if I was brave enough to talk to him. At the cafeteria, outside in the morning, on the way home after school, if I bumped into him at a game. There were so many things I could have said, but never did.

What if I've ruined my chances? What if I was meant to talk to him back then, and since I didn't, it was too late now? Of course, he invited me to his room, but what if it was too late somehow to make a connection? To steal a moment of bliss that I shouldn't try to take? I was going to be punished for this—just as I was punished every time in my life when I overreached for what I wanted.

I should go. Someone might see me and tell Trey.

There were heavy footsteps of someone descending the stairs, and the shoes scuffed on the parking lot pavement. I flinch. Did someone already see me? I remove my glasses to see better and take a peek.

It's Cole, heading for his car. He looks furious, jaw clenched, shoulders tight and the muscles of his bare-forearms popping.

My pulse races, but I freeze in place. Always. I always freeze when there is danger. A sick feeling pools in my gut. So he wasn't planning on waiting for me too long in his room. This is the sign I was right about things being too late for us. He reaches his car, but as he opens the door, his gaze moves my way.

His shoulders drop in relief as he focuses on me. Shaking his head, he strides forward. I shy away, I can't help it. He stops dead in his tracks at the corner of the building.

"Were you leaving? Don't let me keep you here," I whisper.

"I was coming to look for you. I shouldn't have let you go at the bar. I should have taken you by the hand and brought you with me."

What kind of man says things like that? I swallow. "I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry for leading you on like this, but I should go home."

"I don't agree. You aren't leading me on in any way. You need something. I'll give it to you."

"What I needed was a quickie at the bar. This—" I gesture at the motel and him. "Isn't what I had in mind."

"Again, I don't agree. At the pool table, you said you wanted to ask me something personal. From everything you've said and shown me, I know you don't want a fast fuck in the bathroom. That isn't what you need. You need something very personal, something only for you. At the very least, you need a full night."

"You don't know shit about me or what I need." I tell myself to go, but I can't move. He's several feet away, and nothing about his stance or attitude is threatening, so why am I so afraid? I press my fist to my stomach.

"I know you sat and thought it over for fifteen minutes whether or not to approach me. I know you were scared, but you came anyway. I know you didn't act like a woman trying to seduce a man by showing off your tits and ass, making pointed remarks, or asking me to bend you over the pool table. You didn't say, fuck me. You said, take me now and you never have to see me again. You think you aren't worth more than a quick screw in the bathroom. I disagree."

I tip my head back to the bricks. I'm not afraid of him, of his anger. It was never directed at me. I'm afraid of everyone else. Including myself. I'm afraid I'll screw things up again and lose what I love most in the world. The reason I'm still alive.

But Cole isn't a part of the ugliness of the past. He's a chance to escape it—even if it's only for a night.

He steps closer and puts a hand on the wall beside my head. Caging me in without forcing me to stay put. My heart is racing again, but for a different reason. I pick up traces of his shower gel and the masculine, warm scent of his skin. I make out the scruff of his unshaven chin. His heavy eyebrows have a faint crease between them as he studies me closely with his grey-blue eyes.

"One night, no names, no attachments," I say. There have to be rules, although I'm breaking the names rule since I know his. "And you will never tell anyone I was here with you."

He takes in my words and then nods slowly. "Agreed. Of course, you are free to leave sooner if you want." He cups my cheek, fingers at my ear and strokes my cheek with his rough thumb. I shiver. "But I will convince you to stay."

I haven't been touched in so long. I can't help but lean into it. My panties are already a wet mess. "All right."

"Come with me." He takes my hand and I let him lead me to the stairs. When a car drives past, I turn my head the other way and he seems to understand. He positions himself in front, so other drivers can't see me as we make our way down the open corridor along the front of the building to the other end.

Room twenty. He opens the door and lets me go in first.

Not bothering to turn on the light in the fading twilight, he reaches over my shoulders to unbutton my shirt. I catch his hands in mine to stop him. God, I'm so weak.

He comes around to face me. "You can go whenever you want." He sits on the edge of the bed, watching me. "If you're staying, take off your shirt."

Trembling, I unbutton my shirt, it takes an eternity. His eyes roam over me, scouring me with their heat. His breath has quickened and in the half-light, his pupils are huge. A bulge has formed in his scuffed up jeans, tenting the crotch.

I ache for him already. My shirt drops to the floor and his nostrils flare when he sees my heavy breasts in their pink bra. It occurs to me that my panties don't match and I almost run for the door.

No, Jordan. Stay. Once upon a time, you had a bucket list of crazy things to do in your life and kissing Cole was at the top. You are twenty-six now. Fucking Cole is the second thing on your list now. And it's the only thing you can scratch off, so don't you dare chicken out.

"Come here." He beckons and I go to him, straddling his lap. Eyes on my face, he reaches to my back to unhook my bra. He drags his hands along my sides as he pulls it from my skin and I arch my back.

His lips trace burning marks on my chest. My nipples peak and he takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. Longing sweeps through me and I'm not afraid anymore. I want his pants off and his cock in me as fast as possible.

*** Thank you for reading! ***