said.
Edward nodded. “I know and thanks.” He followed Charles out of the kitchen.
Yes, it was time to move on, and Ingrid would definitely take his mind off Kate and the frustrated state she’d kept him in since he’d been with her over the summer. If being with Ingrid didn’t help, he didn’t want to think what that meant or what he did from there.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Edward awoke with a hangover that thumped like the loud music at last night’s club. He opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. It served him right for drinking more than usual, at least more than he had in quite some time. A few years ago, he regularly spent the weekends overindulging in both alcohol and women. However, since his battle with lymphoma over a year ago, he’d curtailed his more promiscuous ways. That was, until last night.
The events of the prior evening came back in fragments. With a groan, he rolled over and buried his head under the pillow as the details came into focus. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He’d been a thoughtless git more times than he could count, but never as bad as last night.
He and Kyle met Ingrid and her friend, Yvonne, at a club. After several hours and too many tequila shots, the next thing he remembered was the taxi ride to Ingrid’s flat. She’d been all over him, not that he’d been complaining. After all, they’d been doing this for years, and sex was the climactic end to their evening. They danced, they drank. Then they fucked. End of story. There was no love, no romance between them. Never had been and never would be. Sure, he’d developed affection for her over the years, but it had never been anything but sex—for either of them.
Despite his allusions to his brother, he hadn’t planned on sleeping with Ingrid, but the combination of alcohol and his need to forget Kate drove all common sense from him. Once at Ingrid’s, it wasn’t long before they were naked and in her bed. What would have happened if Ingrid hadn’t spoken, hadn’t snapped him out of his vision of making love to Kate? What if they hadn’t stopped?
“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled and rolled out of bed.
He stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. A glance in the mirror showed a man he almost didn’t recognize. Dark shadows haunted cold and unfeeling eyes. When had he become this person, or had he never truly seen himself? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like what he saw.
While under the jets of the shower, he recalled Ingrid’s reaction when he blurted Kate’s name. He’d been lucky all she’d done was make a snide remark and not belt him across the face—or somewhere more vulnerable. At what point had he morphed Ingrid’s pale blond hair and model-thin physique into Kate? It’s not like the two could easily be confused. Kate was the polar opposite of Ingrid, with a mane of auburn curls, olive-toned skin, and soft curves that could—and had—brought him to his knees on multiple occasions. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known or wanted, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. And after his behavior last night, he couldn’t blame her.
After dressing and popping two acetaminophen to ease his pounding head, he started coffee. Last night was a wake-up call he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Kate wasn’t out of his system, and he couldn’t escape his desire for her in the arms of another woman.
Wasn’t that what his brother told him yesterday? That he needed to stop running from situations that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to deal with whatever this was between him and Kate, and force her to deal with it, too. He pressed his hands to his temples as the mere thought of this made his head throb harder.
He chose a blueberry muffin from the pastry box on the counter, thankful he’d had the foresight to stop at his favorite bakery yesterday morning, and had eaten about half of it when his cell
Edward nodded. “I know and thanks.” He followed Charles out of the kitchen.
Yes, it was time to move on, and Ingrid would definitely take his mind off Kate and the frustrated state she’d kept him in since he’d been with her over the summer. If being with Ingrid didn’t help, he didn’t want to think what that meant or what he did from there.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Edward awoke with a hangover that thumped like the loud music at last night’s club. He opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. It served him right for drinking more than usual, at least more than he had in quite some time. A few years ago, he regularly spent the weekends overindulging in both alcohol and women. However, since his battle with lymphoma over a year ago, he’d curtailed his more promiscuous ways. That was, until last night.
The events of the prior evening came back in fragments. With a groan, he rolled over and buried his head under the pillow as the details came into focus. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He’d been a thoughtless git more times than he could count, but never as bad as last night.
He and Kyle met Ingrid and her friend, Yvonne, at a club. After several hours and too many tequila shots, the next thing he remembered was the taxi ride to Ingrid’s flat. She’d been all over him, not that he’d been complaining. After all, they’d been doing this for years, and sex was the climactic end to their evening. They danced, they drank. Then they fucked. End of story. There was no love, no romance between them. Never had been and never would be. Sure, he’d developed affection for her over the years, but it had never been anything but sex—for either of them.
Despite his allusions to his brother, he hadn’t planned on sleeping with Ingrid, but the combination of alcohol and his need to forget Kate drove all common sense from him. Once at Ingrid’s, it wasn’t long before they were naked and in her bed. What would have happened if Ingrid hadn’t spoken, hadn’t snapped him out of his vision of making love to Kate? What if they hadn’t stopped?
“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled and rolled out of bed.
He stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. A glance in the mirror showed a man he almost didn’t recognize. Dark shadows haunted cold and unfeeling eyes. When had he become this person, or had he never truly seen himself? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like what he saw.
While under the jets of the shower, he recalled Ingrid’s reaction when he blurted Kate’s name. He’d been lucky all she’d done was make a snide remark and not belt him across the face—or somewhere more vulnerable. At what point had he morphed Ingrid’s pale blond hair and model-thin physique into Kate? It’s not like the two could easily be confused. Kate was the polar opposite of Ingrid, with a mane of auburn curls, olive-toned skin, and soft curves that could—and had—brought him to his knees on multiple occasions. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known or wanted, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. And after his behavior last night, he couldn’t blame her.
After dressing and popping two acetaminophen to ease his pounding head, he started coffee. Last night was a wake-up call he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Kate wasn’t out of his system, and he couldn’t escape his desire for her in the arms of another woman.
Wasn’t that what his brother told him yesterday? That he needed to stop running from situations that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to deal with whatever this was between him and Kate, and force her to deal with it, too. He pressed his hands to his temples as the mere thought of this made his head throb harder.
He chose a blueberry muffin from the pastry box on the counter, thankful he’d had the foresight to stop at his favorite bakery yesterday morning, and had eaten about half of it when his cell
Similar Books
The Crimson Ribbon
Katherine Clements
Falling for the Boss
Elizabeth Lennox
Beautiful Death (Bella Morté Trilogy Book 1)
L. Dee Walker
Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set
Amber Scott, Carolyn McCray
The Silver Arrow
Larry Itejere
Malus Domestica
S. A. Hunt
The Double Tap (Stephen Leather Thrillers)
Stephen Leather
Smarty Bones
Carolyn Haines
Three Balconies
Bruce Jay Friedman
Firebrand
P. K. Eden