Page 31 of Crave Me

“You can’t be serious.”

She squeezes my arm playfully. “I’m not as easy as you think I am.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” She turns around, applying lotion to my back in long, careful strokes.

“That you’ve had opportunities to meet men and that only a fool would ignore you.”

In the quiet that follows her thoughts appear to drift. Her hands move to my lower back, continuing her massage of my skin. “I’m going to give you a little TMI about me,” she says, after a long moment. “Are you ready?”

“Go on.”

Her fingers tense along my muscles. “The last relationship I had was bullshit,” she says. “I wasn’t exactly ready or willing to go through that again. I was asked out a few times, but it was by the same idiots I’ve been trying to avoid. I was tired of the attitudes and expectations so instead of giving in, I’ve spent the last year alone.” She presses a kiss between my shoulder blades. “What about you? When was your last relationship?”

I want to probe more about her last experience. But I’m not insensitive. It’s clear she’s still troubled by what occurred. “In London I dated someone for three years,” I confess. “And before her a woman just slightly over two.”

“Five years’ worth of relationships before last night? Damn. I don’t even keep shoes that long.” She waits then asks, “Were you engaged to either of them?”

I quiet, remembering. “No. The first was more casual. We were young, both of us looking more for someone to pass our free time with rather than commit to anything serious. The last woman, I thought marriage would eventually be our next step. But things never felt like they should.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I reach for the towel and tie it around my waist. “It wasn’t a relationship exactly. At least not in the traditional sense. For all the years we shared, our moments together were brief. She travelled extensively, attending lavish parties while I worked and dedicated myself to my research. We’d see each other on occasion, but then return to our respective lives.”

“Why didn’t you travel with her?”

Wren isn’t judging me. She’s honestly confused by what I tell her. “I was committed to developing new technology and teaching myself to run an empire. I didn’t have time to engage in that lifestyle. Initially I tried, in order to spend time with her, but the parties were too much.”

“Why?”

“They weren’t real.” I’m surprised how quickly I answer and how much truth lies in those simple words. “They were events thrown solely to boast and display wealth.”

“But that didn’t seem to bother her.”

Again, despite that we’re discussing my former lover, she’s not judging her. She’s trying to understand the world I was born into, but never wanted to be a part of.

“No, it didn’t,” I admit. “This was how she was raised. She didn’t work and didn’t have to, enjoying life was her job.”

“I don’t fault her,” I clarify when a small wrinkle forms between her eyebrows. “It’s simply who she is. The last time I saw her was several months ago.”

“The last time you had sex, I take it?”

I nod. “I hadn’t seen her in several weeks. But instead of feeling closer to her, I realized there was nothing there. At least, not enough to keep me.”

“What was her name?”

“What?” I heard the question. It just seems odd for her to ask. Given how primal I become around Wren, I don’t want her speaking a lover’s name except my own.

“What was her name?” she asks again.

“Saundra,” I reply.

“Did Saundra feel the same way that it was time to move on?”

As much as I don’t want to keep discussing my former relationship, I don’t want to hide anything from Wren. “No. She was ready for the next step she presumed was coming.”

She makes a face. “Oh. I guess that didn’t end well then, did it?”