I vow. I crave. I give in.
I used to be a nice, normal girl. I had dreams. Good, happy dreams of white picket fences, 2.5 kids, and a fairytale love that lasts forever. Nobody warned me the prince dies three weeks before the wedding.
Like any addict, I swear this time is the last….
Now, I go through my days, a shadow of my former self. I pretend I’m okay, and the people in my life pretend to believe me. But, sometimes, when I can no longer stand the craving my dead fiancée left behind, I roam an underground sex club looking for my next hit. It’s dirty and wrong, but I can’t stop, and my only line of defense between them and me, is the rules I’ve designed to keep me safe. With free, no-strings attached sex; men always abide by my rules. Until I meet him.
And, like any addict, I’m wrong.
I don’t question the instincts that tell me to run. One look at him, standing there, power radiating off him in waves, tells me all I need to know. He will make me forget. And that’s not an option.
A shift of movement catches my eye and I peer past a group of men who look like they've just come from a board meeting. Past a woman gyrating her hips over the lust dazed guy sitting underneath her, and a couple making out.
And, then, I see him.
My heart slams into my chest, my pulse kicks up, and something akin to panic rushes across my skin.
He's staring right at me.
My throat dries up like the sierra and every cell in my body knows he's the one.
I imagine his gaze skimming over the lines of my back, the curve of my hips, the length of my bare thighs.
He is not safe.
The bartender walks past me delivering another knowing wink on his way to service another customer and suddenly his safety and simplicity doesn't seem so bad. My one night rule isn’t for men like him. He’s not a risk.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to look back. At him.
Jennifer Dawson grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and graduated from DePaul University with a degree in psychology. She met her husband at the public library while they were studying. To this day she still maintains she was NOT checking him out. Now, over twenty years later, they’re married and living in a suburb right outside of Chicago with two awesome kids and a crazy dog.
Despite going through a light FM, poem writing phase in high school, Jennifer never grew up wanting to be a writer (she had more practical aspirations of being an international super spy). Then one day, suffering from boredom and disgruntled with a book she’d been reading, she decided to put pen to paper. The rest, as they say, is history.
These days Jennifer can be found sitting behind her computer, writing her next novel, chasing after her kids, keeping an ever watchful eye on her ever growing to-do list, and NOT checking out her husband.
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