Overexposed: The Complete Boxset: A Virgin Meets a Bad Boy Romance by Rae Lynn Blaise

I have left, I force myself up the last set of stairs.
    The moment I reach the top level, it’s like being transported into Charlene World. There’s a tastefully painted bench with baskets tucked beneath for shoes, and hooks above for coats situated between two doors. For some reason, this small reprieve from the other two floors blindsides me with memories of Devon. It comes so swiftly and unexpectedly that I sink onto the bench, trying to breath through the pain of his rejection.
    Three weeks have passed since we were together in paradise, literally and figuratively, and yet it feels as if it were a lifetime ago. Or just yesterday. My brain tells me to forget him, to chalk the entire experience up to a passing fling. My heart rejects that offering. It continues to believe there had been something deeper, truer. No one has ever touched me, known me, made my body sing in the ways that he did. Even the memories of our short time together makes my fingers itch to release the tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface of my skin.
    I refuse to give into the temptation of pleasuring myself for him. Especially when I still have Eric.
    Eric, who is my future.
    Eric, who deserves my loyalty.
    When I left the island, I made myself a promise. I vowed to forget Devon. To focus everything back onto what really matters.
    It hasn’t stopped me from tracking Devon’s travels online. My fingers on my laptop keyboard constantly betray me, checking his photo-blog like it is my new religion.
    He went to Poland for St. Andrew’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on me. What other holiday is more appropriate than one devoted to finding your true love? His pictures of young girls pouring hot wax through keyholes into water to divine the shape of their future husband’s face were beautiful. The candlelight flickered across hopeful, smiling faces.
    From there, he went to Costa Rica, the pictures of his time in the preserves breathtaking. From the misty views of the virgin rain forests of Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve to the hot springs of Arenal Volcano National Park, he’d captured sparkling waterfalls, roped swing bridges, crystal blue beaches, and the numerous faces of the locals he’d charmed.
    Now, improbably, he’s in Tulsa. For an art show. I’ve yet to see any pictures from the actual show, but there are an abundance of landscapes and skylines.
    Part of me can’t help but wonder if he’s also thinking of me. If in his recent travels there was a beach, a pose, or a wafting smell in the air that assailed his senses with images of me. If he sees glimpses of my face in those of the people he’s met, of the soft curves of my body in the lush arch of a coast line. If he’s ever touched his thick length in remembrance of his time with me, inside of me.
    I shake free of the hold Devon’s captured me in. Forcing myself to my feet, I stare at both doors before deciding to knock on the one with the Christmas wreath. Charlene greets me with a smile and a toast, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the lip of the martini glass. “Anna! Come in dear.”
    Once I’ve yanked both of my suitcases through the door, Charlene gathers me in a one-armed hug and air kisses each of my cheeks. Her familiar scent of jasmine and vodka is a balm to my soul. At least some things will never change. “Let me get a look at you dear girl.”
    Taking a step back, I lift my arms and do a quick turn. “And how do I look?”
    “Like you need a drink,” Charlene answers, before turning on her heel and heading to the antique bar cart in the corner.
    I sink into the dark plum couch. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
    She returns with a second martini, and after handing it to me she gracefully sits beside me. “How does it feel to be back?”
    After a quick sip and a tiny sigh, I answer. “Surreal.”
    Charlene nods. “Brooklyn is an adjustment, but you might end up loving it.”
    I try hard not to scoff in her face, and instead I take