“Sounds like my nan, and the parrot she kept in her attic. It learned the sound of next door’s burglar alarm and screeched it three times a day for fifteen years. Can I?”
“Um, sure.”
Isha extended his hand to Frances. I expected her to turn her back on him, or even peck his fingers, but what the fuck did I know? It took her a split second to abandon me for him.
She’d always been a clever bird. I stroked her chest, chuckling as she ignored me entirely to inspect Isha’s ear. “You don’t have to tell me about Mina. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m just not used to anyone I’m fucking giving a shit.”
“…I’m fucking…”Present tense. Heat flooded me, but I fought to ignore it. My body was crying out to fuck Isha again, but the rest of me somehow knew that it wouldn’t happen if we couldn’t get past this conversation.
I said nothing, hoping Isha would interpret my silence as his cue to continue.
He sighed. “We were too young. We barely knew each other.”
“That didn’t change after you had a few kids?”
“It’s not as simple as that. Our relationship was real, but we were always basically best friends who enjoyed fucking each other because we didn’t know what it was like to fuck anyone else.”
“Did she ever find out you were into men?”
Isha bristled. “Of course. She’s my best friend…she knew I was bi before I did.”
A different kind of warmth spread through my chest. “That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, I think so.” Isha relaxed a little. “I mean, we’ve been divorced for years, so she doesn’t know everything about my life anymore, but generally, she knows me better than anyone.”
I pondered if that meant she knew he’d hooked up with the bloke from the snake shop. Doubtful. But it surprised me to learn that I didn’t care if she did. “Does anyone else know?”
“Hmm?” Isha broke his stare down with Frances. “Know what?”
“That you’re bi. I know I was an arsehole about you being married, but you still strike me as someone who isn’t out.”
“Would that stop you hooking up with me again?”
“No. I’m just nosy.”
Isha opened the parrot cage and eased Frances inside. He shut the cage with what felt like unnecessary care, and turned to me. “If you’re just nosy, perhaps I can offer a distraction.”
Ten
Isha
Jude had powerful thighs. I clung to them for dear life, and much more, as I toppled him onto the couch and pulled his shorts down. I had no idea what I was doing. Shutting him up had been my priority, but I could’ve done that by leaving.
I didn’t want to leave, though. The control freak in me couldn’t handle an extended conversation about my lack of outness, but the thought of cutting our encounter short horrified me.
That left the only thing I was good at when it came to my private life—using sex to deflect from my multiple failings.
Jude didn’t complain. He let me manhandle him as though it had been his plan all along. As though the cup of tea and friendly chat had hidden a filthy ulterior motive.
He kicked his shorts aside. Beneath them, he wore plain white boxer-briefs that made my mouth water. They were perfect, like so many other things about Jude. It was as if fate had ducked into my ultimate fantasies and decided, for once, to do me a solid.
Jude sat back on the couch, his smirk one I recognised from that night at the hotel. I welcomed it, ignoring the flare of regret in my chest. I should’ve kissed him first. But why? Jude did something to me no other man ever had, but that didn’t mean what flowed between us now was anything more than a mechanical hook up. I’d lunged at him, and he’d taken the fight.
And I owed him a blow job.
I eased Jude’s underwear down his strong legs, letting my hands linger on his sinewy calf muscles. The urge to run my tongue over them, and up the back of his legs, was so strong it took my breath away. I settled for squeezing them and making a silent promise to myself.Next time.