I tugged my dress on so quickly, threads ripped. It was just barely in place when the water stopped, and Troy emerged from the bathroom. Still naked and devastating, and it was even worse when he put his hands on his waist and shot me a mock disapproving look.
“You got dressed fast.”
It was odd how he was so confident without a stitch of clothing on, but then again, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, he was probably proud. Besides his sculpted body, his impressive erection had flagged some, but remained. Even though he’d reached satisfaction, his dick was broadcasting it was up for an encore.
Holy shit, I had to get out of this room.
The window of me maintaining my self-control was rapidly closing, and I could not sleep with him. He was a guy, and in my experience, it wasn’t hard to convince them to hop into bed. Every signal Troy had given me made me confident he’d say yes if I asked.
And while a huge part of me wanted a quick hookup, it wouldn’t be “no strings” with him. There were very big, very personal strings attached to Troy. Jenna would never forgive me, and my friendship with her was worth more than a night of meaningless sex. It was incredibly likely I’d already damaged it beyond repair.
Only if you tell her what you did.
My heart sank into my stomach. I was a terrible friend.
He’d commented that I’d gotten dressed quickly, and my tone was urgent. “I did. You should probably too, because . . .”
I tried to assemble the right phrasing in my head, but nothing sounded right, and as time dragged on, Troy’s posture began to stiffen.
“Because,” he said flatly, “this was a mistake.”
Hurt lurked in his eyes, but I only caught it for a moment because he bent, scooped up his shorts, and jammed a leg into them. I couldn’t hold his gaze as he finished pulling them on and did up his fly. My shame was too powerful.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” I said quietly, “but I shouldn’t have asked you to . . .” I took the cowardly way out and let him fill in the rest of the words I wasn’t saying. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
That couldn’t be true because I felt guilty as hell.
Silence hung awkwardly between us, growing more uncomfortable than the heat. He had his shorts on, but his t-shirt was still a heap on the floor, and sweat darted down his chest in erratic zigzags, each droplet enticing me to follow its descent.
But an electronic trill cut through the air. I was so disoriented, it took a second to realize it was my ringtone. I reached out to pick up my phone, but as the name flashed across the screen, I hesitated.
It rang again, but I didn’t move.
“You need to answer that?” Troy sounded guarded, but curious.
I swallowed a breath. “It’s my husband.”
It was a habit that hadn’t died yet, and my thoughtless comment set him on alert. His expression darkened. “I thought you were divorced.”
It’d taken so long to sort out since Clark had been a jerk and he’d legally been my husband until he’d signed the papers. I’d opened the envelope this afternoon, seen the signature, but the totality of it sank in just now.
I was finally divorced.
“Ex-husband,” I corrected. “Sorry, I’m fighting twenty years of habit.” I grabbed my phone and tapped the screen, sending the call to voicemail. “And no, I don’t need to answer it.”
“Y’all were married for twenty years?” Was Troy thinking now about the enormous age difference between us? When I’d walked down the aisle, he’d been a toddler.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s funny how, in the final few years, Clark never wanted to talk to me, not until I asked for the divorce. Now he calls me all the freaking time.”
Why was I telling him this? I shook my head, trying to rattle the awkwardness away, and pulled my shoulders back to straighten my posture. I didn’t feel confident, but I could pretend I did.
“Troy,” I started, unsure of what to say next.
He thought he knew what was coming. “This is where you tell me I’m fired, right?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just . . . I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I’m okay with it happening again.”
Eagerness fluttered in my stomach, but I squashed it down. “Well, it can’t.” I frowned. “Besides everything else, I’m too old for you.”
Goddamn that sexy smile that lurked on his lips and how his tone patronized. “If you say so, Ms. Graham.”
I sighed my frustration. “It’s Erika.”
He was about to deliver a retort, but my phone rang again and interrupted him. When I glanced at the screen and didn’t answer, he tilted his head. “Your ex again?”