He grabbed my hand in his and led me off the dancefloor. I caught Amber’s eye where she dancing with some girl—she batted for both teams—and she winked at me. I flushed and quickly followed Mr. Tom Cruise Look-Alike over to the bar.
“What do you want?” he asked, moving me so I was wedged between his hard body and the bar. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his chest pressing to my back.
I recited my order to him, and he waved a bartender down. Once my drink was in front of me, I quickly gulped it down, needing something to numb the lust pulsing through my veins. I was seriously contemplating a one-night-stand with this man, and I didn’t even know his name.
I was either extremely deprived of sex, or this man was something else entirely that I’d never come across before in my life. My heart clenched in my chest as I thought of Eric. I hadn’t even been this lust-driven with Eric.
He nuzzled my neck. “Another?”
I shook my head and grabbed his hand before dragging him back to the dance floor. We resumed dancing, our bodies moving together so sensuously that I was losing my head. I was past drunk, and I wanted him. I wanted him so bad that my body was throbbing for his touch.
Fuck it.
I grabbed the back of his head and tugged his face down to mine. Our lips molded together. He tasted like beer and pretzels. I knew I probably tasted like a liquor truck, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His lips felt so good against mine. And when he pressed me even closer to him, I moaned. I needed more. I wasdyingfor more.
He gently pried my body from his, and I whimpered—actually fucking whimpered—at the loss. He offered me a small, tender smile as he reached up to rub the pad of his thumb over my swollen, bottom lip.
“I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re drunk.” I swallowed thickly. He brushed his lips lightly with mine again. “If I see you again and you still want this, then let me know.”
With that, he quickly walked off the dance floor and over to a group of guys over at a table. I frowned.
How was I supposed to do that when I didn’t even know his name?
2
Tawney
My head wasthrobbingwhen I woke up the next morning. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how I got home, to be honest. I didn’t remember much after that hot-as-hell kiss with Mr. Tom Cruise Look-Alike. Though, if I knew Amber, I knew she got me one-hundred percent wasted.
I groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head. It was too early to be awake, but even now I could hear Alex opening the fridge, trying to find something to eat.
I swear, my little boy had a tapeworm, though his doctor continued assuring me he didn’t. He wasalwayshungry, and he never gained weight. He was a skinny kid, much like his father had been. Even after Eric joined the Marines, he still never gained much. He was lanky before he joined, and when I saw him in his casket, he was lanky then.
Alex was so much like him that some days, it broke my heart.
I missed my husband so much. Seven years later, it still hurt—it hurt bad. But Dad told me losing your significant other never hurts any less. You just learn how to live with the pain.
I guess that’s what I’d been doing—just living with the pain.
“Mom,” Alex whined from the doorway. I grunted in response. “I’m hungry.”
I pulled the pillow from over my head and squinted at him. “When aren’t you hungry?” I asked him.
He just shrugged, a toothy grin pulling at his lips. I sighed and heaved myself into a sitting position, reaching up to rub at my eyes. “Can you get me a bottle of water?” I asked him.
He nodded and quickly left my room. A moment later, he reappeared holding a bottle of water. I unscrewed the cap and guzzled the bottle down, feeling a little more human now that my tongue didn’t feel like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I yawned and slid off the bed, padding barefoot to the kitchen. Alex sat down in front of the TV to watch cartoons while I whipped us up some eggs and extra greasy bacon.
Grease was the cure for all hangovers. I swore by it.
After we ate—Alex and I both smothering our scrambled eggs in ketchup—I got a shower, my thoughts on the man from the night before. This was the first time in seven years I couldn’t get a man that wasn’t my husband out of my head. It left me feeling confused. I knew Eric was dead—God, I thought about it multiple times a day—but I felt like I was wronging him somehow by wanting another man.
But I knew I needed to move on. Even Dad dated. And if he dated after he and Mom spent thirty years together, then I could, too, right?
Sighing, I quickly finished bathing and got dressed in a pair of purple jeans, black flats, and one of my many black, low-scoop t-shirts. Comfort was above everything, in my opinion. Hell, the only reason I wasn’t wearing leggings was because I hadn’t done laundry yet.
When I emerged from my room, Alex was already dressed and waiting by the front door. “You're late,” he told me.