Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) by Rosalie Stanton Page A

was what she had told herself—what therapy and a cocktail of antidepressants had never been able to convince her of otherwise.
    Perhaps that was why she’d been so drawn to Razor in the first place. He represented a sort of freedom from the cuffs she’d placed around herself. So long keeping guarded, crossing her arms, biting the inside of her cheek and doing her best not to maintain eye contact for very long with anyone—friend or not—and she found someone she had no reason not to look at. Someone who had looked back. And for the first time since Travis, she’d allowed herself to open to the possibility of desire. Of craving intimacy. What had happened today at the club was unprecedented, unplanned, but there was no one to blame for her actions. She had thrown herself at Razor and he had taken what she offered.
    A nervous, tittering laugh bubbled from her lips and her heart thundered. Every functioning nerve in her body screamed at her just to go to bed, preferably with a bellyful of alcohol. Enough was enough for right now. She’d already had one of the most horrendously fucked-up days of her life, and she had no idea how to begin rationalizing it or her actions. Wake up with no memory of getting home, getting the can from Trixie’s and…
    And Razor.
    Whatever else, those few blissful moments with him had done something therapy, medication, alcohol and crying never had. She’d made a decision for herself. She’d seen something she wanted and, rather than kowtow to the demons in her head, she’d made a play for it. That in itself was miles beyond anything she could claim in all the efforts she’d made to get her life back on track. Granted, what had come afterward had felt more like her. Ginny’s default position as of late had been a steady cut-and-run when it came to awkward scenarios. Yet now, sitting in the quiet of her apartment with her worldview in shambles and her body still trying to find solid ground after the earth-shattering high she’d touched, she could admit to herself something she hadn’t had the courage to admit in a long time.
    Life as she knew it right now was shitty. The only not-shitty thing about life was the nights she spent at Electric Panther. The nights she spent looking at Razor and pretending he was looking back. For everything that had fallen apart today, that one constant remained.
    And despite the warzone in her head and the confusion thickening the air, she didn’t want to let that go.
    She didn’t want to run anymore.
    She didn’t want to live a half life anymore either. She didn’t want to make excuses for going out or feel guilty every time she caught herself looking lustfully at a man. She wanted her life back.
    Razor had given that to her without knowing her or how badly she needed a reprieve from herself.
    Ginny flattened her palms on her legs. “This stops now,” she said softly.
    Starting with the one thing she didn’t want to do, but knew she had to in order to get over the first hurdle and closer to acceptance.
    She needed to go back to Electric Panther. She needed to face him. Tonight. Razor’s life might not have changed with what happened earlier, but hers most certainly had, and she wouldn’t get anywhere if she kept herself parked in neutral. The gear on her emotional maturity had been stuck in reverse far too long.
    Time to move forward.
    No matter how terrifying it seemed.
    * * * * *
     
    For the first time in weeks, Ginny had some say in her wardrobe selection. The simple jeans and t-shirt that defined her Trixie’s attire now resided in the trash, possibly to be burned later. Granted, her clothes were about three years past the last fashion craze and she really didn’t have anything that screamed “dance club appropriate”, but after some digging she unearthed a pair of satiny black slacks and a flattering, form-fitting red blouse. She even found some old makeup she’d purchased and forgotten about. It was the first time in ages she cared