I know he’s trying to be funny, but the tension around his eyes reveals something is off. I decide to drop it for now, but make a note to ask him later when he’s drunk and in a sharing mood.

“So basically, this scrawny little fucker is the only one who’s getting laid. How sad is that?” Hunter gags, while I thump Finch on the back.

“Way to go, Finch. You and Heidi planning on practicing for baby number two?” I ask, nudging him in the ribs.

Finch blushes, and I can’t help but laugh. He really is too easy to tease.

“How’s Heidi’s…?” Hunter motions to the front of his chest with a disgustingly perverted smirk.

Finch pales.

“I would appreciate you not talking about my wife and her breasts,” he whispers, “in that way.”

“What way?” Hunter asks, his mouth tipping up into a mischievous smile. “I could have said how’s Heidi’s babyfeeders, cans, jugs, knockers, airbags, coconuts, funbags, tatas or wopbopaloobops, but I didn’t. And besides, I could have been talking about the new knitted sweater I saw her wearing last week. Sheesh, you’re a sick, perverted bastard, thinking about sex all the time.”

Finch shakes his head with a disgusted frown, while I howl in laughter, blessing the day I met these clowns.

After one too many scotches, Finch is begging Hunter and me not to become lion tamers, but the idea is really ingenious, and I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it sooner.

“You, my man, are too uptight,” Hunter slurs, straddling the statue lion, which is standing proud and tall outside the library. “You need to loosen up.” He strokes his cheek over the concreted mane, sighing contently.

Everything is so much funnier when you’re slightly inebriated, and Hunter and I are getting to the stage where almost everything is funny.

“Guys, get off the damn lion!” Finch pleads, while Hunter and I ride the statue proudly.

“Let me ride this big pussy in peace,” Hunter playfully retorts, while I lose my balance and fall onto my ass, laughing rowdily.

“Dixon?” a familiar voice asks in shock.

My laughing abruptly dies the moment I hear her, and any hilarity gets caught in my throat as the voice I’ve been trying so hard to forget addresses me once again.

“Dixon, are you okay?”

Closing my eyes, I count to three before calmly opening them, and I attempt to not keel over when I see the beautiful face of my ex-fiancée. My heart beats against my ribcage frantically, as the organ is beyond elated to see her again. My brain, however, knocks some sense into my whimsical center, and I harden the fuck up.

Standing to full height, I ignore the fact I’m completely drunk and my shirt and tie are askew as I offhandedly reply, “Hi, Lily.”

Looking down at my leather shoes, I sigh, as I see I’ve stepped in pink gum. I look like a total slob, but Lily looks immaculate, as usual.

She’s in a tight black dress which stops mid-thigh. Memories of how those long tanned legs wrapped around my neck while I ate her out for hours assault my brain. However, as my glance falls to her face, I see a silver tiara entangled in her long blonde curls. I can’t help but think how out of character a tacky gimmick like this is for her. But then my daft brain registers the fact she’s wearing a bright pink sash with the big, glittery words “Bride to Be.”

The simple phrase may as well have just told me to go fuck myself, and highlight what a failure I am.

Suddenly, I realize the date, and remember it would have been our one-year anniversary this weekend. But instead of mourning, or looking remotely reflective, Lily is out celebrating her bachelorette party, looking absolutely stunning and happy.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered that she would have been my bride-to-be a year ago. She doesn’t even appear to care that this is the first time she’s seen me in so many months. She simply doesn’t care that she tore out my heart and left me a shell of who I once was. I gave her my all, and it still wasn’t good enough.

I wasn’t good enough. But my best friend was.

However, lifting my head in pride, I snicker, making a point of looking at her sash. “Congratulations. I hope he can provide you everything that I couldn’t.”

“Dixon, wait!”

“Wait for what?” I spit, hands out wide. “For you to tell me how happy you are?”

“I’m s—”

Before she can finish, I cut her off because if I hear the word “sorry” pass through her deceitful lips, I just may hurl. “Save your excuses for your husband.”

“Dixon!” she pleads, reaching out for me.

But I storm down the stairs, ignoring the calls of my best friends. I also ignore the wounded look on my ex-lover’s face. But she can go to hell, as I’ve been wearing that same look since the day she walked out on me.

I simply ignore everything and focus on the only thing that makes a lick of sense.

I shouldn’t be here. But this was the first place I thought of running to.

I don’t know how to deal with these pent-up feelings. I never have. Other people’s feelings, I know how to resolve, but when it comes to me, I just want to forget.

Even for a stolen moment, I just want to forget how much it hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back.

My fist pounding against the door is in sync with my hammering heart, and the moment it opens, the primitive animal comes roaring out of me and I attack.

“Dr. Mathews? Are you okay?” Juliet gasps, taking a step backward, her eyes widening in surprise.

“It’s Dixon,” I growl and barge into her apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.

We stare at one another, the air sizzling with an intense, electrical current as we engage in the ultimate standoff. Juliet appears confused, but she remains silent, awaiting my next move. Before she has a moment to protest, I pounce on her, smashing my ravenous mouth to hers. She hesitates for a fraction of a second, but then it’s game on.

We tackle one another, both demanding dominance over the other, but I willingly submit when she violently unclasps my belt buckle and shoves her hand down my pants, palming my hot erection. I’ve gone commando, so she goes straight in for the kill and hungrily begins stroking me, her small hand barely wrapping around my straining shaft.

I pump forward, my hips jerking frantically, needing the friction to be harder and faster, and thank fuck, Juliet complies, her wicked fingers pumping with vigor. I’m about five seconds away from coming in her hand, so I pull away, because when I explode, it’s going to be inside of her.

I push her backward and she stares at me breathlessly, anticipating what happens next.

Reaching for the low neckline of her black lace slip, I rip it down the middle, letting it glide away like melted butter from her hot little body.

I take a moment to appreciate the sight of pure perfection in front of me, and just when I thought my hard-on couldn’t get any harder, my dick twitches and painfully demands to break free. The pinkest, perkiest nipples sit erect and swollen, highlighting her flawlessly round, creamy tits. They are more than a handful, and I can’t wait to bury my head between those pillows of perfection, and see if they’re as soft as they look.

“Spectacular,” I say with bated breath.

As she cups both tits and begins plucking her nipples, I can’t wait a second longer. Lunging forward, I clasp her bicep and spin her around, smashing her front against the wall. I know I’m being extremely assertive, but my passion is assailing my last tether of rationality, and I need to consume this woman before I explode.

Sliding my hand around her slender waist, I dip down and slip a finger into her slick, warm wetness, and we both moan at the swift intrusion. Ramming her hips backward, she reaches down and interlaces her hand through mine, inserting a long finger of her own.