Page 100 of Vows We Never Made
What am I doing?
And he sawallof me, too.
The stretch marks on my thighs, on my breasts, on my sides.
At least I think he did, when I can still feel the phantom imprint of his hands all over me.
They were everywhere, dueling beasts hell-bent on extracting pleasure.
I sit up slowly, taking in the room. It’s definitely empty and it’s still dark outside.
I slept away the afternoon and we’re well into night.
Well, shit.
Shit, shit,shit.
Where is Ethan, though?
He said something about trying to get the kiss out of his mind when we had sex, so he’s probably busy regretting this. I wonder if he’s fled halfway across the country on that fancy jet, desperate to pretend this never happened.
Argh.
He probably didn’t evenmeanfor it to happen.
Maybe he’s in a dry spell between girls or he’s actually honoring this engagement and staying celibate for me.
Maybe he was just horny and I was just accessible.
Maybe he’s wondering how he can ever smooth this over.
Maybe he’ll make me sign a shiny new nondisclosure agreement so no one will ever find out about the atrocity.
Or maybe he was so disgusted when he woke up and saw me that he couldn’t bear to share the same oxygen.
Maybe I’m being a ginormous idiot.
Better to face the music sooner rather than later, I guess.
The visceral regret that rips the air from your lungs.
The wedding people left a robe hanging over the back of the door.
I get up and slip it over my shoulders, wrapping the belt securely around my waist so there’s no skin visible. Then I push open the door.
And sniff.
Because, unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s—buttered lobster?
But there’s no mistaking that smell.
Confused, I pad downstairs toward the kitchen, winding through the cavernous house.
Ethan stands in front of the stove in a pair of shorts and nothing else, humming to himself as he cooks.
On the floor by his feet, Ares looks up, thumping his tail a few times when he sees me.
Am I still asleep and dreaming?
