She sat
at the mahogany wood bar, head down, a tall, slim glass
clasped in her hand. How well he remembered her profile
—high cheekbones, full lips, and that stubborn tilt to her
chin —now half bathed in shadow from the soft golden lights
surrounding her.
His heart
beat a familiar deep thud inside his chest, and his mouth
went dry. He’d wondered if she’d show. It was their one-year
anniversary of sorts. A year to the day she betrayed you.
He
remembered the day vividly; it was carved into his brain.
The jab of pain he felt every time he thought of it hadn't
eased. It still hurt like hell. He'd wanted to surprise her
and take her out to lunch. He'd come home to a strange car
parked in the driveway but felt no suspicion, only
curiosity. He'd followed the sound of her low, husky laugh
to the bedroom, still having no clue, and stopped dead. The
wave of pain and anger that surged through him was like
nothing he'd experienced. Ever. She didn't try to make any
excuse. She just sat there naked, silent and shocked. He'd
filed for divorce the next day and hadn't laid eyes on her
since…until now. Shaking off the memory, he brought himself
back to the smoky bar and Vanessa.
The
shimmering red dress she wore clung to her body, showing off
her firm, full breasts and tiny waist. The remembrance of
her soft, creamy curves smashed against him.
A slit in
the side of the material exposed one long, toned leg, thigh
to ankle. His cock hardened instantly.
* * * *
What the
hell was he thinking? A conversation with an old, mutual
friend and loneliness had brought him here, both feeble
excuses to humiliate himself yet again. Doug had asked him
to at least see her. His best friend was adamant that he
wasn't over his ex-wife. They'd argued. "Prove it by meeting
her then," he'd taunted. "For God's sake, man, you're going
to be in the same city. You're living a lie and it's eating
away at you. Meet with her and if she doesn't affect you, if
you don't still want her, then it's really over. And I'll
never bring it up again."
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