Chapter 6 Six

I pushed open the garage door, walking in with a cup of coffee in my hand. I had taken a quick shower once I was finally able to get my legs to walk.

"Hey," My voice cracked around the rim of my coffee. I never knew coffee after sex could taste this good, or that facing him again would feel so awkward.

"Hey," he responded, his hands dipped in his pocket. "You sure you're okay with gifting me the bike?" he asked, tilting his head toward it. "I don't mind paying for it, you know."

I sipped my coffee slowly, staring at the white stain smeared across the back tire. Edward's bike—his pride, his memory—now tainted by another man. I should have felt guilty, but instead, heat crept up my cheeks,

"It's fine," I said, staring at him. "I want you to have it."

His gaze softened, and he gave me a small nod. "Alright, thank you."

"You're welcome," I murmured, my gaze falling back on the bike.

Am I a bad person? I couldn't help but wonder. This bike belonged to my late husband, and not only did I get fucked on it, but I just gifted it to the person who fucked me on it.

And worse, I feel less guilty than I should.

Edward's memories doesn't deserve this, but I do hope he understands. I have decided to move on, and even though I told myself I wouldn't get involved with a younger man.... I'm starting to reconsider.

Getting sexually tangled up with a younger man was never a part of my plan. But maybe... just maybe the lover I want and need is him.

I have had sex with him twice, and unless I want to start whoring myself around the city, making him my lover would be the perfect decision.

"I'll pick it up tomorrow," he said, breaking through my chain of thought, his eyes also on the cum-stained tire. "It could use a wash."

My cheeks reddened. "Yeah... it does." My voice trailed off, and I pressed the mug closer to my lips.

"Goodnight, then." He turned and walked toward the garage gate, and something in me panicked at the thought of him leaving. My lips parted before I could stop myself. "Wait."

He stopped, glancing back at me with a curious gaze.

I swallowed the words stuck in my throat. "Do you... do you want to stay the night? It's pretty late."

His brows lifted slightly. "You sure?"

I shrugged, trying to look casual though my heart was pounding really fast. I have never had a man in my house since the death of my husband, and definitely not a younger man—and to top it, he's going to sleep over.

"Yes, I am," I answered. "Besides, it would be irresponsible of me as an adult to let you head out this late."

He studied me for a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. "Cool."

"I just want to be sure. Cool means you are staying the night, right? And not that you think what I just said is cool."

"Yeah, I'm staying."

"Alright. Cool." I nodded, tucking away a smile. "Well, come along." I beckoned to him, already walking out of the garage, and he followed.

Together, we walked into my apartment. The quiet of the place wrapped around us, and I suddenly started to feel hot.

It's late, and I'm alone with a guy in my apartment!

Oh God, I feel like a high school girl who is about to lose her virginity.

I rubbed my itchy palm against my robe, leading him to the spare bedroom. "This is where you'll be staying tonight," I informed him.

He strolled into the room casually, nodding his head, his eyes looking around.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, standing awkwardly by the door. "I could warm up something for you."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Alright," I said softly. Placing my hand on the doorknob, I added, "Goodnight, then."

I turned to leave, but his voice brought me to a halt. "You won't be sleeping here?"

I glanced back, surprised. "No. I won't."

To my surprise, he walked right out of the room and stood before me with an intense gaze. "I'm not sleeping in a room you're not in."

I froze, shocked by his bluntness. "I..." I began to argue, but before I could form my words, his hand grabbed mine.

"Lead the way," he said.

I swallowed. What the heck is wrong with me? Every little physical contact was enough to get me riled up.

I could feel my heart lodged up in my throat as I led him to my matrimonial room, and it hammered louder with every step I took towards it.

I can't exactly describe how I feel—it was somewhere between guilt and excitement. After the death of my husband, no one has ever laid beside me. Never.

But today, my bed won't be lonely.

And yet, despite my excitement to finally share my bed, I felt guilty toward Edward. It was only yesterday I was finally able to walk into the room I shared with him, and only a few hours ago I successfully cleared away all his belongings, and now... I was about to sleep with a stranger on our matrimonial bed.

But alas, my excitement was far bigger than my guilt. Spending the night with the warmth of a man enveloping me was something I had only dreamt of and never acknowledged out loud.

We got to the master bedroom, and my fingers trembled slightly as I turned the doorknob.

I walked into the room fully, and he followed. The master bedroom looked different than it did yesterday. It felt emptier and yet refreshing.

"This room is bigger. I love it," he murmured, his eyes scanning the bedroom.

I didn't know what to respond to that, so I kept quiet.

He walked to the middle of the room, filling up the space like he belonged, like he was my lover—a term I was still considering greatly.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked, unfastening his belt. "I want to take a bath."

I gulped, my eyes raking over his chest as he pulled off his shirt. Seeing his naked chest and beautiful-shaped nipples, I realized I had never once seen any other part of his body except for his cock.

"It's over there," I said to him, pointing at the bathroom while my eyes remained glued to his chest.

And as if I wasn't in the room, he zipped down his pants and slid them off. He stood before me proudly naked.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, jolted by his sudden nakedness.

It wasn't just his cock, even soft and thick, resting proudly between his thighs... but the gorgeous body it belonged to that left me shocked.

I wrapped my arms around my old and frail body, wondering why someone as gorgeous as him would want to fuck me.

"We've fucked twice. Don't act like it's anything new." He winked as he brushed past me, then bent close enough for his breath to ghost my ear. "Besides, I plan on fucking you a lot more. So don't get shy now."

I placed my hand on my chest, the whole room suddenly hot. Shit! I'm wet.

I watched him disappear into the bathroom, and I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. Between my thighs, that restless tingling had returned, and no matter how much I tried to will it away, it stayed.

I swallowed hard, fanning myself with one hand as if that could cool the heat building under my robe. But then I pictured him in the bathroom—naked, water sliding down his body, his hands moving over his skin—and the heat only flared.

As if hearing my filthy desires, he poked his head out the door and asked, "Do you want to join me?"

I swallowed, the insides of my mouth suddenly filled with spittle. His invitation was one I couldn't ignore, but... there was no way I was about to have sex twice in just one day.

I've got to space myself or I might truly become a slut.

"No," I answered, laying fully on the bed. "I already showered. And it's best I call it a night."

He shrugged, then disappeared back into the bathroom without another word.

I turned on the bed, deciding to go to sleep. If I could bring myself to shut down for the night, the tingling between my thighs would fade too.

Shutting off the filthy thoughts in my head and pushing away the image of his naked body, I closed my eyes, welcoming sleep.

My eyes grew heavy as I tried to sleep. I kept on turning on the bed, chasing after dreamland, but just before I could finally rest, I felt the mattress dip beside me.

Sleep vanished instantly, and my whole body went tense, aware of him.

For a long moment, I couldn't move, couldn't even think. Only the sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. I had a man in my bed, and the awareness of that brought back the distress between my thighs. But in the middle of my sufferings, something struck me—I didn't know his name.

How in the world is that possible? I have had sex with him twice, and not once did I think I should ask his name. Anything about him.

And now, I had this nameless hot stranger in my bed.

"What's... your name?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Lucas David," he answered. "You can call me Lucas."

I let the name roll in my mind. "Lucas David," I repeated, whispering to myself. I can't say why, but his name sounded familiar. Perhaps it's just a common name, but before I could think more of it, his hand slipped over my waist.

I froze in his hold, my whole body rigid.

He pulled me closer, and my body slid against his, my back meeting the solid heat of his chest. My breath caught as I felt it—his cock pressing firmly against the curve of my ass.

"Remember when I said I planned on fucking you more?" he whispered hoarsely, his lips biting into my ear.

His cock pressed harder against me, and for the first time since Edward's death, I wanted to forget whose bed I was in.

The sin I was about to commit was clear in my mind. Was I really going to let him fuck me on my matrimonial bed?