—Aubrey

His response came within seconds.

Subject: Re: SERIOUSLY?!

I’m really on a date right now with someone who’s not going to leave third degree burns on my dick. And I’m not a sex addict, I’m a pu**y addict. There’s a difference.

—Andrew

Subject: Re: Re: SERIOUSLY?!

You are a disgusting and vile ass**le, and I honestly regret ever sleeping with you.

—Aubrey

No response.

I watched as he looked down at his phone and raised his eyebrow. He turned around in his chair—slowly scanning the room until he found me.

His eyes widened the second they met mine, and his lips slowly parted. His gaze traveled up and down my body, and I could practically feel him undressing me.

There was suddenly no one else in the room but the two of us and I could tell that he wanted me to come to him—right here, right now. I felt my body responding to his stares, felt my ni**les hardening as he dragged his tongue against his lips.

I swallowed as I looked him over, realizing that I’d pictured his hair entirely wrong in my dreams this week. I’d finger f**ked myself for hours on end last night—using his face and the memories of his voice for inspiration, and seeing him in person only made me want to feel his c**k inside of me again.

I leaned forward, wanting to go to him, but my tunnel vision started to clear and I saw that we weren’t alone in this room.

Far from it.

His date’s perfectly manicured hand found its way to his chin, and turned his head away.

I followed suit and asked for two more drinks. I gulped them both and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw that Andrew was staring in my direction with undeniable want in his eyes.

I forced a smile and opened my mouth very slowly, mouthing, “Fuck. You.” before leaving. I snatched a handful of mints from a random waiter’s tray and rushed back toward the gallery.

I was halfway there when I felt my phone vibrating. An email.

Subject: Meet me in the bathroom.

NOW.

—Andrew

I turned off my phone and continued walking toward the gallery doors—damn near running. I reached the lobby, but someone grabbed my arm and pulled me across the room.

Andrew.

I tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold and looked back at me—giving me a ‘Don’t Fuck with Me’ look as the people around us whispered.

He pulled me into a bathroom and locked the door, narrowing his eyes at me. “You think I’m disgusting?”

“Extremely.” I stepped back. “I’ve lost what little respect I had for you and if you even try to put your hands on me, I’ll scream.”

“I don’t doubt that.” A trace of a smile grazed his lips, but it didn’t stay. “You haven’t shown up to work for four straight days. You think just because I f**ked you that I won’t fire you?”

“I don’t give a f**k whether you fire me or not! Have you ever thought about why I haven’t shown up to work?”

“Incompetence?”

“You’re f**king married! Married! How could you—” I shook my head as he closed the gap between us. “How could you leave that part out?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “And for the record...I’m not technically married, Aubrey.”

“I’m not technically stupid, Andrew.”

“You’re making it very difficult to talk to you right now...” His lips were nearly brushing against mine.

“That’s because you’re not making any f**king sense.” I freed myself from his grasp and headed for the door, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and slammed me against the wall.

“It’s a contested divorce,” he hissed. “If you were a real lawyer I’m sure I wouldn’t have to explain what the hell that term means, but since you’re not—”

“It means that you’re still legally married. It means that if you die before the papers go through, that your wife—which is what she is, will still be entitled to everything you ever owned. It means that you’re a LIAR! A f**king liar, who is apparently exempt from his own stupid and ineffectual rules!”

“I filed.” He gritted through his teeth. “She refused to sign, and there’s a lot of complicated shit that I’ll never feel like discussing, but we’ve been separated and out of touch for over six years. Six. Years.”

I shrugged and tried to put on my best poker face, ignoring the fact that my heart was skipping every other beat as he wiped my tears away with his thumb.

“I’ve never lied to you, Aubrey,” he said sternly. “You asked me before if I’d ever lied to you and that answer is still the same. I don’t talk about my life before Durham with anyone, but yes, I did once have a wife and she showed up to my office on her own. I didn’t call her, I never will, and I haven’t called her since I left New York. Our case is extremely complicated and I prefer not to think about it.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “You’re still wrong. You still neglected to tell me about her for six months. Six. Months!”

“At what point was I supposed to bring that shit up?” His face turned red. “In between f**king you over the phone? When I was begging your lying ass to meet me in person? When I was unknowingly helping you with your f**king homework?”

“How about before you f**ked me?” I hated that being around him pulled emotions out of me. I couldn’t pretend to act unaffected if I tried. “How about then?”