In a Jam

Text him.” I jerked my chin toward her phone. “Tell him you’re available in two weeks. The SoWa market, South of Washington. You have a few minutes around ten in the morning and that is the only time you can spare him. Send that and then turn off your phone.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask this but”—he ran a hand over his mouth—“how are those work

I want to rip this sweater off you.” He leaned in close to kiss my jaw, his beard scraping over my cheek. “And these jeans. Fuck. Your ass looks like it belongs in my lap when you wear these jeans.”

He skated his hands over my thighs, pushing my dress up as he went. He drew circles on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee, and if asked, I’d have to say that was the singular source of all pleasure in my body.

“She killed a federal agent while moving drugs across the Canadian border for her asshole boyfriend. Had no idea it was a sting operation or that she’d committed a dozen federal crimes in the presence of undercover agents.

they’d filled in the blanks as they saw fit.

A flashback of all the times I watched you go to festivals and dances and dates with someone else. All the times I never thought I’d get a chance to be the one taking you with me.

My husband, the cutie.

The attraction to my future husband…that was all too real.

“I thought you wanted her to be your girlfriend.”