When our relationship died, so did my love of fire and art. The dream of art school was replaced with settling on a career that would pay the bills and keep a roof over my head while my husband pissed our money away. Whenever I played around with the idea of getting back to my hemp paper and gunpowder, Jordan would roll his eyes and tell me it was a waste of time. After I gave up on my dream, the only time I ever thought about my art was when I thought about Collin and wondered if he was happy. I didn’t even realize how much I missed it—or him—until right this very minute.
Collin understood my passion for art more than anyone else in my life before or since. He was my first boyfriend, his lips were the first I’d ever kissed, his hands brought me to my first orgasm and his dick was the first I’d ever had in my hands—and my mouth. These are things a girl just doesn’t forget.
“Shit, I wonder what he’s been up to over the years. That boy has turned into a fine looking man.”
Not that I’d tell Phina, but I know exactly what he’s been up to. Through the power of Facebook on nights when I had a little too much to drink or when Jordan and I were fighting, I might have looked up his profile and kept tabs on him. After college, he moved out of state and became a fireman like he’d always dreamed. When I realized that I was a very married woman fixating on a man I had no hope of ever seeing again, I made a conscious effort to curb my internet stalking. It’s been a while since I last looked at his page and I had no idea he was back in town.
“Well, holy shit! If it isn’t Phina Giordano!”
Both of us make the mistake of turning around when we hear the shout from the next table over. Heading our way with a beer in his hand and a smile on his handsome face is D.J. Taylor, best friend to Collin and the guy who had the unfortunate task of handing me Collin’s break-up note senior year and dealing with me crying on his shoulder between sixth and seventh period.
“Damn, and Finnley Morgan too? It’s our lucky night, Collin!”
Collin turns around when he hears my name and looks in our direction. Our eyes meet and, for a moment, I wonder if he’ll even recognize me. I mean, seventeen years is a long time. I haven’t changed a ton, but I know I don’t look exactly like I did back then. I’m taller and I have curves and boobs that hadn’t quite filled out the last time he had his hands on them. Due to his Facebook pictures that I may or may not have poured over a few dozen times, I would recognize him anywhere. Those pictures did not do him justice, though. Phina was absolutely right. He’s definitely turned into a fine looking man. He was cute as a teenager, but he is f**king hot as an adult. He’s well over six-feet now and the worn jeans sitting low on his hips fit him like they were made for his thighs and ass. He’s wearing a long-sleeved navy-blue t-shirt that stretches across his chest, showing off some very well-defined muscles. My eyes trace over the words Franklin FD written in yellow across his chest, confirming that he must still be a fireman. The fact that the city listed on his shirt is one town over means he must have moved back home since the last time I drunkenly stalked him. I can’t explain the sudden burst of happiness any more than I can contain the smile that hits my face at the thought of Collin being so close.
I watch a dimple form on his cheek when he smiles back at me and, for some crazy reason, butterflies start rapidly beating in my stomach. I hold my breath as he picks up his bottle of beer and walks towards me.
His eyes never leave mine even as Phina says hello to him and he responds in kind. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s right in front of me and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. He’s standing so close I can feel the heat from his body and, if I move just an inch, my br**sts will be pressed up against that gorgeous chest hidden beneath cotton. He smells faintly of cologne and soap and it’s such a delicious scent that it turns my brain into complete mush.
I hear Phina and D.J. chatting behind us about what they’ve been up to over the years. I know it’s rude that I haven’t said a word to D.J. in greeting, but I just can’t bring myself to look away from Collin. His blue eyes stare into mine and his smile grows wider as he looks down at me.
He whispers his nickname for me from back in the day and hearing it fall from his lips is like a straight shot of lust right between my legs.
I brace myself for the guilt to take over as I continue to smile back at him. I wait for my brain to remind me that I’m still technically married and that whatever this is I’m feeling is wrong. I wait for the remorse to come, but it never does. It’s been so long since a man looked at me like this and maybe I’m just so starved to feel something… anything other than numb that I don’t even care.
“Fuck, you look amazing,” he mutters.
Every inch of my body warms at his words and I ignore the little voice in the back of my head that is finally waking up, telling me this is a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
Chapter 4—Sparks Will Fly
“WE ARE TOO old for this f**king bar. Everyone in this place is still in college,” I complain, tipping back my bottle of beer and finishing it off.
My best friend ignores me, staring at something over my shoulder. I wave my hand in front of his face. “Hey, ass**le. Are you listening to me?”
“Holy f**k, it’s Seraphina Giordano. Damn, her tits look amazing,” D.J. says with a sigh as he gets up from his stool. “I’m going over there. She let me get to second base in high school, maybe she’ll throw me a bone tonight.”