“But I don’t want to give any of that up.”

The words were forced out of her, against her will. She took a step back, as if moving away from whatever had caused her to speak. But there was no escaping the truth. She wasn’t just lonely—she wanted to have sex. She wanted the touching, the tasting, the heat. She wanted need and release and the closeness after.

Worse, when she closed her eyes, the man she pictured wasn’t faceless. He wasn’t a stranger. He was Thaddeus. It was his hands on her body, his smile that made her giddy, his body pleasing hers. She could accept generic wanting, that was human. But this need wasn’t generic at all.

As the thoughts formed, her body responded. Her breasts became more sensitive and a heaviness grew, low in her belly. The sensation fanned out, making her uncomfortable.

“No,” she said, hurrying out of the room, as if she could outrun the need. “I don’t want him. I don’t.”

In the kitchen she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. But instead of remembering what it was like with Stuart, she felt Thaddeus’s mouth on hers. She wanted more of that. She wanted his lips, his tongue and then she wanted his hands on her—

“I can’t.”

But instead of a scream, her voice was a whimper. She sank onto the floor and curled up on the hard linoleum, telling herself there wasn’t any need. No desire gripped her. The memories were enough because she loved Stuart. She would always love Stuart. She’d married him because they were meant to be together.

I think it was because I lost my family. I was looking to belong somewhere and Stuart made that possible. We could belong to each other.

She sat up. “That wasn’t why,” she said loudly. “Stuart and I fell in love. We did!”

Even as she battled the past and what might be the truth, in the back of her mind, she could see Thaddeus moving around the stage. She saw him take off his shirt, then his pants, and she hated herself for the steady wanting that pulsed between her legs.

fifteen

“Holy shit.”

Keith knew it was too late to call back the words, but that was the least of his problems.

Why was this happening to him? He worked hard at his job, he went out of his way to be there for the kids he coached and spent many an hour lying awake, worrying about his daughter. So why, exactly, was his life falling into the toilet?

“What?” Ellen asked, staring at him from the doorway of her hotel room. She flushed and looked down at herself. “Too much?” Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I’ll go get changed.”

He managed to drag his gaze from incredibly impressive cleavage and pull his mind out of the gutter in time to quickly clear his throat and say, “No. Sorry. You look amazing.” He gave her a rueful smile. “You knocked me on my ass. I wasn’t braced. I’m braced now.”