What happened in the truck was just as much for me as it was for him. A way to test the waters and boost my confidence. Judging by his reaction, we were both just as dazzled by each other’s sexual prowess. Maybe I could be the girl who demanded what she deserved and never let a man know my next move. More spontaneity, less domesticity.
I fingered the button on my pajama shirt. “Even with a stranger in your bed?”
“Especially with her in my bed.”
I pushed Frankie’s tumbler of amber alcohol toward him, and with unspoken understanding, we clinked our drinks together and downed the remaining liquid.
22
Two-and-a-half glasses of wine. That’s how much alcohol it took to get Ophelia Brody so tipsy she started cheating at Scattergories.
She leaned into my shoulder more when she laughed, and her lips lingered on the rim of her glass when she smiled. Her words came out slower and in a deeper, sexier baritone that for whatever reason crept up my spine and vibrated like live wire.
That’s a good voice, I thought. One I wouldn’t mind hearing on a late-night phone call, long distance. One I’d never delete out of my voicemail just so I could go back and rehear it.
But those weren’t things I was supposed to be thinking while I sat next to her on the carpet, sneaking as many secret looks as I could at the way the fireplace brought out the hidden auburn in her hair. I wasn’t supposed to be committing her favorite wine to memory, or remembering her siblings’ names, or spending my entire lunch break researching the best hiking trails in Colorado so I could save them in the notes on my phone, just in case.
None of these things were supposed to be happening, but I was in too deep to swim back to shore. Parts of me knew Ophelia was right there with me, but neither of us had the guts to fight the tide and save ourselves from fucking drowning.
For the first time in over three years, I didn’t even get a knot in my stomach when someone alluded to Vanessa.
Hell, Ophelia had uncovered a box of the pathetic fucking love letters I’d sent to her from overseas that I should have taken fire to the minute we ended things. As soon as I found out everything I was too naive and in love to see coming.
I should have been angry when I caught her snooping. That was the justified emotion. But, in actuality, I felt relief. Relief because it meant the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about was thinking about me, and my life, and my past, and my tours, and the shit that made me a thirty-five-year-old bachelor with a roommate and a season pass to Butterflyland.
I wanted her to ask me. Because for some reason, I wanted to tell her everything. Unload all the things I’d been holding onto for so long like she was a time capsule and it didn’t matter what I said, or how ridiculous it sounded. In two weeks it would be buried and anyone else that found it wouldn’t fucking understand anyway.
At the end of the day, that’s what we were doing, right? Using each other. I just had to keep reminding myself of that.
Three glasses of wine in, and Ophelia was going at it with Mateo like they’d known each other all their lives, throwing popcorn across the table at him, deducting points for his spelling mistakes, quizzing him on all facts about Tally as a distraction.
But then that became the game. I would ask a question, and Ophelia and Mateo would write their answer down with a mini pencil on their sheet of paper. Tally would shout the answer, and her boyfriend and best friend would reveal theirs. We were all laughing, the drinks were flowing, and by the end of it, Ophelia had stamped Mateo with her personal seal of approval—which meant more to him than she’d ever know.
No one knew where the hours had gone when the credits rolled on the third movie. The wine opener sat next to a pile of discarded corks on the table and the four of us lay happily drunk on the couch in our pajamas.
I felt satiated. As weird as that sounded. There was nothing else I could have wanted out of my night. The beast of lust that always rumbled and growled around Ophelia had settled to a contented purr. Still easily awoken, but much less aggressive.
She folded herself into my side like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I could tell that sleep wasn’t too far off. On the other side of us Tally was already out cold, slung across her boyfriend’s lap.
“I’m gonna take her to bed, guys,” Mateo whispered. “Few too many for my girl.”
Ophelia smiled softly as he stood with Tally in his arms bridal style and blew the hair falling over her forehead out of her eyes.
“She’s totally in love with you,” she murmured. “Head over heels.”
Mateo’s answering smile was enough. He nodded at the both of us and took his girlfriend down the hall to bed.
Ophelia and I didn’t move a muscle, but the energy between us shifted so abruptly it was like the room turned a completely different hue. Her fingernails tightened on my T-shirt, and my hand that was resting behind her on the couch drifted to play with a few wild strands of her hair.
I liked touching her so much it made me feel like a lunatic.
My fingertips brushed her shoulder and her whole arm erupted in goosebumps.
“Cold?” I asked, concerned. We never kept any throw blankets around the house. Neither Mateo or I spent a lot of time lounging in our living room. Most things in the house lacked a much-needed woman’s touch, which I’d come to realize since O showed up.
“Not cold at all, actually,” she said. “You’re like a space heater.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You have chills.”
A second passed before she sat up and started tidying the empty bottles and bowls on the coffee table. “Do you guys recycle?”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Stop cleaning, I’ll take care of it later.”
“I don’t mind,” she stammered, standing and gathering the glasses. “Are you still hungry? I could make you something.”
“What’s going on with you?” I grinned. “I don’t want anything, except for you to sit back down and tell me how you got so good at cheating at board games.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For some reason I don’t think the word ‘moulage’ is one you use too often.”
“Psh.” She snorted. “I’m just…extremely well read.”
“And versed in military jargon.”
“Exactly.” She said, still attempting to fit as many things into her hands off the table as possible.
Her avoidance was adorable. Being alone together had its insinuations. After all, we'd decided to have sex days ago and had yet to cross that threshold—but there was no expectation, like she probably thought there was. I was still reeling over the fact that she wanted me in that way in the first place.
I reached out and wrapped my forearm around her waist, pulling her directly down into my lap. Her soft gasp did all it needed to wake that lust back up again. I carefully settled everything back down in front of us.
“You’re just as stubborn and competitive as I am,” I teased.
“I’ve been competing for my family’s attention for almost two decades now, so I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
Her words were lighthearted, but her expression didn’t match. There was so much more going on in that pretty little head than she let on.