I set down my fork, then rip off the Band-Aid and tell him the full story of the night of my mortification.
He looks horrified for me, muttering whoa after wow after holy shit. “Sunshine, your cat’s a dick.”
“But it’s my fault. I should have been more careful.”
He cups my cheek, shaking his head. “We all make mistakes. Look at Callie and me. The key is learning from them.”
I believe that. I am trying to learn from my mistake. But what is the lesson? Be more careful? Trust my instincts? I’m not sure, honestly. “You’re probably right,” I say, half-heartedly.
“Listen, I have faith you’ll get interviews soon. And I’d be happy to fill in for you if you needed to go during the workday. I can even ask Iris if I can’t make it. I bet she’d come in for an hour or so.”
“You’d do that?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says with a crisp nod. “You’ll get back into children’s books. Just like I’ll keep expanding in custom bikes.”
“Is that your dream?”
His blue eyes twinkle as he tells me more about the custom ones he’s built, his thrill in crafting them, the reception they get. He’s lit up in a whole new way, and I love how he’s letting me into his mind and his soul.
I love too that when the meal ends, he bends close to me to whisper, “You know what’s next?”
I shiver. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
23
Two Down
Veronica
* * *
I’m on all fours, wearing my birthday suit and Milo’s handprint on my ass. His other hand is wrapped in my hair, and he is fucking the hell out of me.
It’s punishing in a dizzying way.
The pace, relentless. The smacking, loud. The hair pulling, bordering on painful. And I am lit up. Pleasure coils in my center. He drives deeper, grunting with every rough thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.
“So do you. But I want it harder,” I beg.
He growls, low and animalistic. “My cock or my hand?”
“Both,” I answer, and a roar rips from him.
He snaps his hips, fucking me ruthlessly while swatting my ass. A delicious burn sears through me, a warning sign that I’m close. I slide my hand between my legs, stroke my clit with a few fast flicks of my fingers, and then pleasure bursts, diamond bright.
Everywhere.
In every single cell.
Seconds later, he shouts coming, then he stills and shudders.
Spent, we collapse onto the bed, panting.
Gently, he eases out and flops next to me. He’s shaking his head, amused. Maybe amazed?
“What is it?” I ask, curious.
“Your sex drive is the greatest gift ever,” he says, then kisses my cheek.
I just smile. “So’s yours.”
He drops a kiss onto my lips. I sigh, happily but wistfully. I’ll miss his kisses when this ends.
I’ll miss them a lot.
Later, after we take out the pets, I show Milo my favorite books that I’ve edited. But when I remember my promise to Ashlee, I drop the book I’m holding and turn to Milo with a wicked smile.
“What’s that for?” he asks, pointing to my mouth.
I wiggle my brows. “Want to watch me . . .?”
The sound he makes sends shivers over my skin.
I grab the Butterfly, settle back on the pillows, and push off my panties. Then, I play with the toy for long and luxurious minutes until I send myself over the edge.
I’ve done this many times, but never for an audience. It’s better with his eyes on me the whole time.
But it’s also worse in its own way. We just checked two items off my list in one night.
In the morning, after Milo leaves and I shower, I check my email. I squeak when I see Tiffany’s name, then click on her note. Thanks so much for the email. I appreciate your résumé but unfortunately, Brooks & Bailey is going to pass.
I wince, feeling more ill than I’d have expected from a rejection. Something feels pointed about the words: We’re going to pass.
That’s much different than we’ll let you know or if there’s a fit, we’ll reach out. TJ is one of their most successful authors. And still, even with a referral, Brooks & Bailey isn’t leaving open the door. They’re kicking it closed.
They aren’t the only ones.
I try to slough off the ick as I get dressed for work, but despite a cute peach dress and my new panties with cat pawprints, my spirits just won’t lift.
I feel heavy, weighed down with the sense that time is running out. After I slick on lip gloss, I try on my skull earrings for luck, but I don’t feel lucky. They just remind me of the day I was dumb, dumb, dumb.
I take them out, tossing them hard on the vanity. One skids into the toilet. Great. Just great. Now I’m going to dip my fingers in toilet water. Plunging my hand in, I grab the earring, rinse it off, and wash my hands too. But I don’t put the earring back in my lobes.