“So how are things going with you and Ella?” Joshua asked. We were at my bar. Second floor. Private. Quiet. A world away from the noise downstairs.
I downed what was left in my glass. The whiskey burned going down, bitter. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the image stuck in my head. Ella — naked on top of my bed. Her moans. Her eyes, burning with need. Her body. Clean, soft, smelling like heaven. The kind of taste you don’t forget. The kind that ruins you for anyone else. Addictive.
I looked at Joshua. He was waiting for an answer.
“Well, we fight, we make up,” I said. Simple. I poured another drink. Not to get drunk. Just to have something to hold. Something to focus on.
“What’d you fight about?” Joshua was curious. He drank with me.
“Personal,” I answered, then winked at him. “Our
