Second Thoughts Read Free

wall, his hands in his pockets, his legs spread apart, and a wide grin on his face, seemingly satisfied, for whatever reason. I’ll admit, there were nights I wished it were Dillon deep inside me. There was a time I was dangerously in love with him. After our very first kiss, I remembered not being able to find myself. In time, part of me had let him go. But on some nights, it was the part of me that didn’t that had me wishing his hands were caressing every curve of my body that made me irresistible to men; married and otherwise.  
    Dillon Aldridge has his own storied past. With my help, he had managed to keep the most damaging parts from my sister. He had been a known womanizer, up to the day before my sister took his hand in marriage, and I didn’t expect marriage to change him, either.  He was rumored to have had a short-lived romantic fling with Shelby Quinn, one of my sister’s closest friends. Shelby is the woman she had asked to be her second maid of honor. One should have been enough, but I guess it would have looked bad had she not asked her only sister, though I’m not sure who she asked first. Of course, proving that rumor true wasn’t my priority. I had to put a little fear in that heifer’s heart. I already didn’t like her, and I’d be damned if I let this bitch, who found it impossible to keep her legs closed, stand before God and beside my sister, smiling in her face, when my sister was marrying the man she was secretly screwing. A few days before the wedding, Shelby became too ill to walk down anybody’s aisle. I had to make sure we had enough time to change the programs for the wedding ceremony and the reception. I assured my sister she had nothing to worry about. You’d be surprised how good I am under pressure.
    “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked with that look in his eyes, as if he enjoyed my sexual play more than I did, even though I seriously doubt it.
    “Where’s Nessa?” I asked.
    That was a more appropriate question.
    “She had an emergency at the hospital.”
    His gaze penetrated me, and I became even more uncomfortable with him standing in front of me. Even though he stood across the hall from me, he was too close.
    “And is that what you came to tell me? I’m sure she would eventually send a text.”
    “I am not here delivering a message to you. I was on my way to the kitchen…”
    “And you had to walk this way?” I interrupted.
    “Well, I heard noises coming from your room.”
    “And you had to stop to investigate?”
    I was trying not to raise my voice, knowing Quinton was still asleep in the room two doors down.
    “Did you hear those same noises while I was in the shower, too? Cut the bullshit, Dillon.”
    “Fine. No bullshit. I want you,” he admitted, stepping towards me.
    His approach had me retreating into the darkness of my room.
    Dillon was up to his usual antics. I wasn’t surprised at his audacious approach, but at the time it had taken him. I knew the Dillon my sister has yet to meet. But the alter ego he had kept concealed was making his return.
    “You have a lot of nerve spilling those words from your mouth.” I laughed, unnervingly, though I knew he was serious. “First, let me remind you, just in case that ring on your finger or you sleeping beside her every night aren’t enough, you’re married, and to my sister.”
    “Minor technicality.”
    Did this bastard just call his marriage to my sister a technicality? I thought. I knew what I’d heard. I just couldn’t believe it. Men say some shit when then want their way. I had to set him straight. “Second, I don’t want you.”
    “But you did.”
    “You’re right. I wanted you ten years ago, not ten minutes ago.”
    I paused and began making my way to the kitchen like I had planned in the first place. I’d met Dillon in 2001 at the House of Blues on Decatur Street, about four blocks from the famous Bourbon Street. It was Mardi Gras 2001. We definitely laissez les bon temps rou