Page 36 of Paging Dr. Breakup
“Calvin”—she wrapped her hands around his neck and drew him closer—“it’s been so long.”
He kissed her until his head swam. It had been so long.
Too long.
It had beennever.
This had never happened before.
The concept woke him up as fast as if he’d plunged through the ice into frigid water. They had never been this close because of her husband. His best friend.
The choice she had made.
The choice Calvin had made not to compete.
Because he couldn’t risk being second best.
With a growl of sexual frustration and existential guilt, he rested his forehead against hers and hauled in huge lungfuls of air until he wrestled his body’s reactions under control. Deirdre still arched against him with those soft noises that short-circuited his brain. This situation was right, but it wasn’t right. After a moment, he gently but firmly tugged her hands from around him and pressed the backs of them to his lips as he stepped back.
Her raw worry and wide-eyed vulnerability almost dropped him to his knees. She licked her parted lips.
Her gaze flickered over him. “Did I do something wrong, Calvin?”
It took him a solid five seconds to form appropriate words in an appropriately gentle tone. “We can’t do this.”
Rearing back, she said, “This? What? Kissing. We’re adults. Pretty sure we can do whatever we want as long as it’s consensual.” She laughed, then froze. “Unless it’s not consensual. Oh my gosh. Calvin. I didn’t—”
He lifted his hands. “Oh, no. I am totally on board with everything we were doing. No question about that.”
“But?” When he didn’t answer, she nodded. “Got it. Hey, strong work on the pretend dating, by the way.” The sad mirth in her voice twisted an imaginary dagger in his chest.
Here she was, trying to calm the situation and make him feel better. Always attending to others’ feelings, even as he and Deirdre faked their togetherness for public consumption and private relief.
That was the problem. He swallowed a hard lump of disappointment.
This wasn’t real.
It could be.
“What if I wasn’t pretending?”
She sucked in a gasp. “I… I don’t know. I might—”
At her response, he quickly added, “The question was rhetorical.”
“Why?”
They stood way too close to be having this conversation. Even as he took another step back, he said, “Because I’m only here on a temporary basis. This fake relationship is for show.”
She paused. “Again, we’re adults. We can decide what’s right for us.” Her gaze met his, momentarily hopeful. Then her gaze slid away.
Cal wouldn’t presume to understand everything running through Deirdre’s mind right now, but it had to involve a complex set of feelings.
Or maybe it truly was as simple as desire?
He had desire for her in spades, but no way would a brief fling satisfy. It would be like having the first bite of Thanksgiving dinner and then pushing back from the table, stomach still aching with hunger. Then sayingno thanks. He couldn’t do that. Better to stop now and avoid inevitable hurt. “Yes, we are adults. We can agree to do whatever we feel is right.”
“But?”
