The Divorce Diet Page 7

But fuck, seeing her half-naked like this really drove home her weight loss.

  And no, it did not diminish her beauty. It would just take some food and getting used to.

  With her long legs on display, tits overflowing the cotton, and her hair wrapped, I nearly came.

  The scent that followed her was light but heavenly, and when she heard my moan, her step faltered.

  “Shit, Eddie, I thought you’d be asleep.”

  “Second I heard that water running, I decided to stay up. I wasn’t missing this.”

  “This is awkward,” she said, gripping the towel.

  “For who?”

  “Me!”

  “Nah.” I grinned. “Seen you naked more than dressed, superstar.”

  Trying to pass me, she said, “Good night, Eddie.” Glancing down at my bulging cock, she mumbled, “Both Eddie’s.”

  “It could be a good night if you stopped overthinking shit, came over here, and sat on my dick.”

  Blinking once, twice, Pharis shook her head no, but I saw the smile.

  Even the click of her bedroom door held promise.

  Because she didn’t lock it.

  “Unh,” was all I was capable of as Eddie drilled me from behind. When Eddie went alpha, he was everywhere, he engulfed me. From his fist in my hair, to his balls slapping my skin. I felt him in my blood. We were beyond dirty talk. This was straight fucking. His grunts, my groans, and our bodies both racing for that beautiful finish line. Pushing me onto my stomach, Eddie slaps my ass, raises my hips, but then pauses. Craning my neck, I look up at my husband, every savage feature he wore on his face, and I felt myself gush because of it.

  “Hold on,” he warned, and I sank my fists into the bedding. I arch and thrash as he punishes my pussy with his big cock. On and on, he fucked me like a beast possessed. When he ordered that I, “Come,” I finally found my words.

  Well, one anyway.

  His name.

  There was no falling asleep, not when I had a ready, willing, and extremely hard ex-husband-now-boyfriend on my couch. This was so awkward and exciting I didn’t know what to do. But crashing wasn’t on the agenda unless...

  Tightening my robe, I stealthily slipped past a seemingly sleeping Eddie and into the kitchen.

  Sneaking the liquor from the counter, I was tip toeing back when he said, “Alcohol ain’t gonna fix horny, superstar.”

  Fuck, busted. Clutching the bottle tight I was about to throw out a lame excuse when he added, “But I can.”

  And he could. No question. But as much as I desired him, wanted the contact, I wasn’t giving in this quickly. I had to at least pretend to play hard to get. Even though we both haven’t gotten it elsewhere, my damn pride demanded I sleep alone. At least for tonight. Tomorrow? No promises.

  “I don’t put out on the first date,” I tossed out quickly.

  “That’s not what your first husband told me.” This guy, seriously. “If you’re going to make us both suffer, at least let me snag a pull before you finish the bottle.”

  Shuffling over, I extend my arm to hand it to him from a safe distance when he yanks me to stand in front of him. Running his hand up the inside of my leg, I nearly dropped the liquor when he secured it with his free hand. Continuing his tease, I anchor my own hands on his shoulders ready for what came next.

  Leaning forward, Eddie rubbed his nose over my pussy and my eyes rolled back.

  “Heaven,” he said on a sigh. “Closest I’ll ever get.”

  Then switching his focus to stroking my wrist just like he used to, Eddie turned it over and paused. Running his fingers over the raised skin he inspects the faint white ink. Initially he was confused but then I felt his shudder when he realizes his name is etched there.

  “I needed you with me,” I said leaving out the part where I bawled through the ten-minute tattoo.

  “I was always with you,” he said so softly I barely heard him.

  I found myself kneeling in front of him, ready to show him how much I missed him when he twists the cap off the bottle of liquor, sucks down a mouthful of booze, and stands up. Immediately embarrassment flooded me, but instead of standing up like an adult, I fell on my ass. Without a word, he bent down, lifted me up, and carried me to bed.

  Unable to meet his eyes, I was spared further humiliation when he set the bottle on my nightstand and left the room.

  The moment the door clicked, I groaned, “I am so fucked.”

  Not a second later I heard, “Yep,” and had that liquor pouring down my throat so I couldn’t call him back.

  For the first time ever, I didn’t attend a home game.

  From my drunk spot on the couch, I watched my woman do her job like the fucking pro she was.

  If you knew us, knew what to look for, you would have caught her searching for me in the crowd.

  But I knew.

  It fucking killed me that I had just taken the first step down a dark road I wouldn’t be coming back from.

  No. That we wouldn’t be coming back from.

  And already, I missed her.

  Despite agreeing to date me last might, once her emotions were under control, Pharis had laid down rules of her own from her side of the bedroom door. I hadn’t walked back to the living room because I was certain she was going to invite me in. She hadn’t. But, she offered me the next best thing.

  Negotiations.

  Such as: she wasn’t putting out on the first date, we slept in separate beds, all drinks and meals were Dutch-style and the kicker, no social media updates.

  It’s cute she thought she had the upper hand.

  PS: She doesn’t.

  And yes, I may have slept on the couch last night, but that was not going to be the norm.

  Because not taking her nearly killed me.

  Christ, I could smell her ripe pussy.

  That shit was a one-time pass because from now on I would be in her bed, between her thighs, paying the tabs and posting every last fucking detail for the world to see.

  And to get that ball rolling, I logged onto to her Facebook and changed her relationship status from ‘divorced’ back to ‘married’.

  That done, I started planning.

  Years ago, we moved so quickly I never took the time to date her.

  Not many men get to date their wives twice.

  And I wasn’t taking the opportunity for granted.

  See, Pharis was the most entertaining, sweet, loyal, and generous person I had ever met.

  A guaranteed good time, every time.

  I owed her new memories, better memories.

  I owed us the same.

  I wanted her to smile at me again, I wanted to erase the insecurities I had caused, and she had given me the green light.

  Standing next to her bed, watching as she slept, I didn’t so much as flinch when she jolted awake, likely startled by sensing me there. “What are you doing, Eddie?”

  “Watching you sleep.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “Missed you,” I stated the obvious.

  “I need coffee,” she said, stretching under the covers, beautiful, even with dried drool on her cheek.

  Excusing myself, I head to the kitchen, pour a cup, and was back in her room handing it to her.

  “Here.”

  “Wow,” she said, taking it. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t too long ago I brought you coffee in bed every morning.”

  Looking away she mumbled, “I remember.”

  “Anyone been bringing you coffee in bed since me?”

  “No,” she said softly. “You know they haven’t.”

  “Good,” I nodded. “Because I haven’t poured coffee for anyone else either.” We may have covered this last night, but we had been drinking and emotions were high. Plus, having her admit again that she was celibate made my chest and my massive cock expand.

  “Why not?” she asked tentatively.

  “Because as I said, as far as I’m concerned I’m still married.”

 
“Oh.”

  “And you’re the only one I’ll ever want, superstar.”

  Reaching for her phone, she stared a moment before asking, “When did you hack into my Facebook and change my relationship status to married? I’ve got so many comments.”

  Smiling proudly, I confessed, “About twenty minutes after I tucked you in. Shoulda changed your password, superstar.”

  “I should shower,” she said, attempting to change the subject.

  “We still have truth on the clock.”

  “Can I wake up first?”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I asked, “How am I not hungover?”

  “You get what you don’t pay for,” she shrugged. “I mean it’s top-shelf.”

  “You hungover?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’re going out.”

  “Out?”

  “Yeah, superstar, out.” I smirked. “Our first date starts in one hour.”

  Pharis speechless didn’t happen often, so when it did, I reveled in it. Catching her off guard, I pressed her body into the mattress, sealing my lips over hers. Once she went pliant in my arms, I deepened the contact and was rewarded when she mewled.

  But like cold water was poured over her head, she withdrew, and the look of bewilderment on her face killed me.

  Needing her to know I was serious but could be patient, I explained, “I know it will take some time for you to trust me again. But my body will never lie to you and neither will yours.”

  And with that, I left and waited for her in the living room.

  I’ll never forget the day he graduated from the academy.

  Eddie in his dress blues, being sworn in, the pride and excitement I saw in his eyes.

  He had worked so hard for this and it had paid off.

  Standing there with his parents, who still refused to accept us getting married so young, I refrained from screaming ‘that’s my husband!’ at the top of my lungs!

  Instead, I clapped when prompted and cheered when it was over.

  But the second we got home?

  I didn’t have to hold my screams in.

  There was no use in lying, I was uncomfortable and tense.

  Sitting on a stool next to Eddie upstairs in the cigar lounge of The Whitney acting like this was normal wasn’t easy. We used to come here quite a bit. Mostly for milestones, but on occasion for date nights too.

  The staff knew us here as a married couple. They also knew we had gotten divorced.

  Only because the girls and I had come for a fundraiser in the garden and Connie spilled the beans when someone asked where my husband was.

  Granted, the odds of anyone here remembering or caring for that matter was slim, I was still on edge.

  So, after lighting his cigar, I lit mine, happy to have something to do with my hands. Because even though what he went through to protect me was valiant, I still wanted to slap the ever-loving shit out of him. I wanted to find this Coffin Casanova and kick his ass too.

  Sliding our drinks forward, our bartender congratulated me on my next phase of life, and it was Eddie’s turn to tense up. I had a feeling that as long as whatever this was lasted, any mention of my moving Eddie was going to tense up. Lord knows I was...

  “Remember the first time I brought you here?” he asked, glancing around.

  “Yes,” I replied blandly. “The food poisoning was memorable.”

  “Shit,” he sighed. “I forgot you got sick.” Shifting uncomfortably, he added, “I was referring to the first special occasion.”

  “When I was hired on full-time at Sports banter.”

  “It was a big fucking milestone, superstar.”

  “So why are we here now?”

  “Can you lay off attitude and just talk to me?”

  “I’m trying,” I admitted. “But it’s proving difficult.” Because one minute I was all about Eddie and the next I was pissed at myself for being all about the man who broke my heart. Even if he had my best interest in mind, I had to play this smart. The two of us did everything in fast forward. But since hitting rewind wasn’t an option, all I had left was pause and play.

  Which button to hit?

  “Because you can’t forgive me.”

  “It’s not that,” I sighed. “I just...”

  “Still got time on the truth clock, Pharis.”

  Facing him, I took a long puff of my cigar and confessed, “I don’t know how I feel about this, Eddie. We haven’t actually spoken more than one word answers to each other in nearly two years. Even if we just date, we have a past we need to talk about.”

  “That’s fair. Answer me this. Am I why you’re leaving?”

  “Partly,” I admitted. “But mostly it’s because what’s keeping me here? I’m single, I don’t own a home, I don’t have kids or family close by. It’s a good opportunity.”

  “You have me here,” he said with fire in his eyes.

  “Yeah? Then where were you this last year? Because the year prior to that, you spent the first half of it in the guest room and the other half living with Aaron. Which, I found out about when I came home to a half empty house.”

  “I explained to you why...”

  “And I’m still coming to terms with it, Eddie.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “It’s not fair at all.” I laughed bitterly. “In fact, the whole thing was fucking embarrassing. The questions, speculation, and looks of pity. Everyone wanted to know what happened that could cause you to move out, and there I was, wondering the exact same fucking thing.” Clearly, I was nowhere near over our past, even knowing the reasons it played out the way it did.

  “I couldn’t tell you why,” he said and I noticed his fingers gripping his glass hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “You think I didn’t want to? Hell, Aaron and Butch don’t even know the details.”

  “Who knows what the fuck you thought? You shut me out so hard and fast I was dealing with whiplash!”

  “I get it! I’m the asshole because I didn’t want you to fucking die!”

  Dialing my anger down because this would get us nowhere, I took a deep breath and an even deeper gulp of my drink to compose myself. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “You’re right.”

  “I don’t want to be right,” he grumbled. “I want to move forward.”

  “Why are we even considering this? Because it has an expiration date.”

  Grinding his jaw, he said, “We’re doing this because we belong together. Fuck an expiration date. Forever doesn’t have a fucking expiration date.”

  “But I accepted the job,” I reminded him. “I’m leaving.”

  With a far too confident smirk he leaned back in his chair and said, “Semantics. Now drink up.”

  What was he up to now?

  The first time I met Connie and Bridget was the night our plane landed at the airport from Vegas.

  Pharis and I were coming down the escalator headed to baggage claim when I saw two girls holding up a banner.

  Because my wife loved to talk about her best friends, I knew the petite brunette with wavy hair and heavy makeup was the rambunctious Connie. The taller girl with dirty blonde hair, heels, looking dressed for the club was the oddly shy Bridget. Breaking from me, Pharis ran to her girls taking them both down in a tackle. From there it was hair, swearing, and a lot of skin.

  Bending down, I grabbed the sign, held it up, and laughed.

  Because in big bold print it said: Are you pregnant?

  All day I had been drooling over the sight of Pharis in tight jeans, plunging blouse, and pointy-toed flats.

  This woman was so sexy and unaware it was a deadly combo for me.

  Walking the streets, going bar to bar, talking, laughing, subtly touching, and getting back to us.

  We both needed it, and I won’t lie, the alcohol did its job of relaxing her.

  Because she was right, we did have a past we needed to talk about if we had any plans of making the future work.

  So, after a long perfect day, my
plan was to get her back here and naked as quickly as possible.

  But that plan was thwarted when we pulled up to Connie and Bridget boozing it up on her back porch.

  I should mention they did this a lot, and I always loved that our friends were so devoted.

  Well, until they cockblocked me, that is.

  Now it was war.

  “Shit,” she said exhaling. “I forgot about happy hour.”

  “Clearly, they didn’t.”

  “The only reason one of us would forget is if we were dead or dating our ex-husband.”

  Because the three drink-a-teers were staunch advocates for happy hour. Between Aaron, Butch, and myself we all picked their drunk asses up so many times I’d lost count.

  “It happens at your place now?” I asked, parking next to her car.

  “Depends,” she shrugged. “You know we don’t drink and drive.”

  And she didn’t have me or the guys driving her anymore either. Jesus, my list of failures was getting longer by the minute. The guys and I used to flip for it, and I always loved it when I won the toss because Pharis would stumble into my arms and stay there.

  Side by side, we approached the porch with Connie glaring and Bridget looking concerned.

  Did I mention they didn’t like me much these days?

  “Ladies,” I said as kindly as possible without showing my teeth. Because telling them to go the fuck home wouldn't help my cause.

  “Mhmm,” Connie said, dismissing me with Bridget muttering my name.

  “I’m gonna grab a beer. What can I get you, superstar?”

  Looking unsure of herself, she answered, “Vodka?”

  “You’re not sure?” I teased.

  “Vodka would be great,” Connie added. “Make it a double. Looks like she needs it.”

  “Here we go,” Bridget winced.

  Refusing to argue with Connie, I stepped around them, used Pharis’ key, and headed inside.

  I was almost to the kitchen when I saw an envelope on her hallway table.

  Ripping it open, I scanned the paper twice before stuffing it in my pocket. Quickly making Pharis a strong vodka soda, I headed back outside to deliver it. “What time did you two get here?” I asked the duo.