Her Rebound Guy

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Yes, quite nicely indeed.

The thought was as delicious as the pizza.

“Like you, I miss sharing a bed.” He put his wineglass on the table and picked up the last slice of pizza on his plate. “It’s not enough for me to want to get remarried, though.”

And—like God had snapped Her fingers—all her warmth was gone. “Not get married again?”

“No. Divorce was horrible.” There was pain in his voice and his eyes, though when he blinked, it seemed to go away and he was back to being a charming man who seemed to have no problems. Did the mask fit so well that he’d forgotten he wore it?

“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.” He recited the words with the flat expertise of a man who dealt in facts for a living. “The odds aren’t good, especially given how bad the bad can be.”

“But...” She took a deep breath to control the sinking feeling in her chest. “The good can be really good. I remember being happily married.” She remembered the fighting more, but the good memories were in her head. Somewhere.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I had anything good enough to make the bad worth it. Leah isn’t a bad person—we just suffered the difficulty of two people making a life together and not picking that right person to do that with.”

“Why date?” She wanted to get to know the world of men, sure. Have some sex and have a good time. But getting married had always been at the back of her mind, even if she hadn’t agreed to this date thinking that Caleb would be the one.

“For the same reason you are. Companionship. Conversation. Sex.”

“But not marriage.”

“Not long-term, no.”

Beck was silent for a long time while she processed what he meant, what that meant for their night and what the rolling of her stomach was trying to tell her, especially when she still wanted to curl up in his arms and feel the soft puff of his breath on her neck.

Her silence didn’t go unnoticed. He put his pizza down and assessed her. “Have I said something to upset you?”

Yes. “I’m surprised is all.”

“I didn’t think you would be looking for marriage. Not now, right after your divorce has gone through.”

I didn’t think so, either. If asked, she would have said she wanted to get married, but that first she wanted to date around a bit. Learn about men in their thirties, instead of in their late teens and twenties. She would have said exactly what Caleb had assumed.

But hearing it said back to her... No, that wasn’t what she wanted. Not that she had assumed she would stay with the first man she met, but she didn’t know how to have sex without thinking about something long-term. Not that it had to lead to marriage, necessarily, but that marriage had to be a possibility. It couldn’t be so far off the table as to be on another continent.

To buy herself some time, she reached for her wineglass and took a sip. Then another. Then another. Once some of the warmth was back, she experimented with a white lie. “I can’t say I’d thought about it one way or the other.”

Mostly true. Hardly counted as a lie at all.

“I didn’t send you a message or arrange this date expecting a wedding ring in a year.”

Completely true.

He let out a long breath. “Okay. Good. You’re interesting. You’re incredibly sexy and we’ve got enough of a connection that I didn’t want to be sent home.” He gave her a look bordering on naughty and said, “The sex was good.”

“The sex was good.” She wanted more of it. With Caleb. And she wanted to fall asleep with their limbs all in a tangle and the possibility of morning sex between them. Marriage was still a long-term goal. This night, with him, was her short-term goal and she was going to meet it.

If nothing else, she was going to prove to herself that she could do it. What it was, she wasn’t exactly certain. One-night stand, maybe. Let herself be comfortable with a stranger. Not pin her hopes on talking him into something she believed in, but he might not want. Not try to convince him of the rightness of her ways.

That was a short-term goal that matched up with her long-term ones.

Her mind made up, Beck popped the last bite of pizza in her mouth. “In fact, I’m done eating. I say we take this wine bottle up to the bedroom and see just how good more sex can be.”

His smile was wide and romantic, back to the Mr. Swoony that she’d called him in her mind. “I’m game for that.”

Beck wasn’t quite on her game as they joked and laughed while cleaning up their dinner. But she wanted sex again, and so she pretended, knowing she wouldn’t have to fake the orgasm. And, right now, that last part was more important.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#uc8205a00-018e-573a-9ffe-d67265e0bf47)

BECK HAD BEEN right about not needing to fake her orgasm. The force of it—brought on by Caleb’s magical tongue—should have put her right to sleep. Should have, but it didn’t. Instead, she lay in bed all night—Caleb breathing softly next to her and Seamus snoring softly on the floor—wondering what she was going to do in the morning.

Was this a one-night stand?

I’ve never had a one-night stand. But I’ve got nothing against them and I’m supposed to be trying new things. No reason a one-night stand can’t be a new thing. I’ve never had one, though. You’ve never been divorced before, either. The goal is not to figure out your future based on one night. You don’t even have to know now what you’re going to do come morning.

You don’t have to decide anything now.

And so it went. All night, in an exhausting bout of self-doubt and confusion.

Though not exhausting enough to put her to sleep.

But by the time Caleb had woken up and his hand had reached out for her skin, she knew that she was going to end their relationship as soon as they got out of bed. Trying new things, not pinning her hopes on one stranger...all of those things were fine, but company, companionship and sex with no end goal in sight was not something she wanted.

The one thing she wasn’t confused about was how much she had missed having sex. And an orgasm was definitelyon the list of things she wanted, and Caleb was good at giving them, so she pushed herself into his exploring hands and reached out to do a little exploring of her own.

* * *

CALEB PRACTICALLY SLID out of Beck’s bed, uncertain if his legs would hold him. Three orgasms in the span of twelve hours would do that to a man. “Mind if I clean up a bit?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You can take a shower, if you like. There are extra towels in the cabinet. I’ll make coffee.”

Beck’s voice had an edge that cut through his fog of sex and morning and had him turning around to face her, suddenly conscious of how naked he was. “Is everything okay?”

She was resting against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to her neck, hiding a magnificent pair of breasts. Clearly, he wasn’t going to have those nipples in his mouth again this morning, but he hoped for the next weekend. Maybe another night this week, if they could both swing it with work schedules.

“I didn’t sleep well,” was all she said. The vague sentence didn’t answer his question, but he didn’t push. Mornings after were weird. Being divorced for a couple years hadn’t made them any less weird, though it had made him more forgiving of how other people reacted when they woke up to find a stranger in their bed.