One Dirty Night

I noticed the weeds around the steppingstones. The wilted spinach I’d planted last month and the cherry tree that desperately needed a prune. I’d left my bedroom light on in my rush to chase euphoria, and my lonely bed with its cream and lacy cushions seemed woefully uninviting.

I’d been lucky enough to know what it felt like to be wanted so badly by two men that my body held remnants of their desire even now. My inner thighs were disgustingly sticky from their pleasure. My lips sore from their kisses. My back stinging from Nick’s lashes.

But now…now all I felt was rejected and forsaken and…unwanted.

I thought he felt what I did…

“Thanks again for the lift.” I gave her a watery smile. “Please tell Mr. Dixon we appreciate it.”

“Will do.” She beamed. “Have a great rest of your night. Not that it can be called night for much longer.” Pointing at the glowing digits of the dash clock, she giggled. “Four thirty-seven. Past the witching hour and ready for dawn.”

Nick grunted in shock. “We were in there for six hours?” For the first time since leaving that decadent black room where he’d fucked me harder than any man, he met my eyes. “Six hours?”

“People seem to lose track of time when they’re in Spectacle of Secrets.” The girl grinned. “I’ve seen one couple be so deep in their scene that the work crew had to start dismantling the circus around them and wait for them to finish before we could leave town.”

My heart ached.

I rubbed it and opened the door. “Guess they had a good time, then.”

“Pretty sure it was the first night of their honeymoon.” The girl laughed. “They pitched up in a tux and a wedding gown. Said they’d just got hitched and the afterparty had been arranged by their very religious parents. They’d been holding off for marriage, but after a few drinks and finally admitting that a quick wham-bam in missionary wasn’t what they wanted to solidify their nuptials, they turned up at our place.”

“Guess there’s a deviant in all of us,” Nick muttered, opening his door and climbing out.

I flinched as he slammed the door.

The girl gave me an apologetic wince. “You know…I’ve driven home quite a few people who’ve spent the night together, and it’s not unusual for some to shut down.”

My fingers curled around the door handle. “Do they turn on again?”

She shrugged. “I guess it depends if they liked who they were in the big top better than who they’re trying to be.”

“Wise words. Thanks again.” Giving her another smile, I climbed out and followed Nick as he stalked up the garden path and into our home. It welcomed me back with a breeze of scorn.

Throwing the deadbolt into position, I tossed my heels against the shoe rack holding my sensible flats for long days at the lab and padded barefoot into the kitchen. White cabinets, honey wood dining table, and a huge fridge groaned with two lots of groceries. Nick’s food and mine. Food that had its own shelf and was never permitted to touch because my surly flatmate never wanted to feel indebted to me for making him a damn lasagne.

Ugh.

I can’t…I can’t do this.

My head pounded as I stared at Nick’s back. He fisted the tap, holding a glass under the streaming water before drinking with desperate thirst.

I didn’t interrupt as he drank down one, two, three glasses before turning off the tap and turning to face me.

He stilled as our eyes met.

Tension crackled.

Pain bruised.

Dropping my stare, I moved to where he stood and held my hand out for his glass. “May I?”

“Of course.” Passing me the tumbler, he raked both hands through his hair and moved away.

I didn’t look to see if he left the room and drank my own share of liquid, unaware of how thirsty I was. Turned out sex worked up quite the hankering for refreshments.

Rinsing the glass and placing it on the draining board, I jumped a little as I turned and found Nick leaning against the dining room table.

“Are you…are you going to bed?” I asked quietly, hating the strain between us. The knowledge of what the other looked like naked and the very real evidence that we’d slept together.