“Don’t die.” Lauren sifts her fingers through my hair. “I still need you for my sex list.”
“I don’t know if it’s on there—” my palms slide to her ass “—but I was planning on waking you up the fun way, Rockstar. Make good on my promise to make you scream my name.”
Lauren’s leg slides up my thigh. “No one’s stopping you, Cupcake.”
I’m on her faster than I can blink, devouring her soft moans and smooth skin, making my way down her body, determined to give her all the things she’s missed out on because of Jerkoff Jason.
I know I can’t give her the one thing she deserves most, a stable relationship with someone who loves her so fully his heart beats just for her. My heart stopped beating in any way other than mechanically to keep me alive a long time ago. But everything else, to show her how she deserves to be treated, cared for, made love to—all that I can and will give Lauren every second I’m in LA.
It takes another hour, but eventually, we get downstairs to eat and drink coffee, and I know Lauren is aware of what this thing between us is and isn’t, but for my own peace of mind, I have to spell it out.
I hand Lauren her coffee and sit next to her at the breakfast bar, waiting for her to take a sip before I broach the subject. “Real talk?”
“We’ve covered the dirty talk over the past hour, so, sure.” She waits for me to speak, but the words won’t come out. It’s strange, I’ve never had a problem giving the no-strings pitch before, but something about Lauren, her vulnerability, I guess, it mutes me.
Eventually, Lauren sighs and puts down her coffee. “Look, Mikey, I meant what I said yesterday. I am not cut out for another relationship right now, especially not with someone who is clearly emotionally unavailable. Not to mention the fact that, if this goes beyond the very specific timeframe of your stay here, we’ll go from interim roommates who shake, rattle, and bang to something too close to a sugar-daddy arrangement for comfort.”
“I amnotold enough to be anybody’s sugar-daddy!” Part of me cringes at the somewhat dramatic response to her words. I should be nodding and affirming, not arguing on semantics.
“Just give it to me, Cupcake. I can take it.” Lauren squares out her shoulders and does abring itgesture with both hands, huffing when I stare at her blankly. “Oh my God, the spiel, Michael, the grand speech of how you’re not cut out for commitment and that this will never be more than a series of amazing nights and mornings, maybe some afternoons as well…” Lauren trails off as her gaze drops to my bare chest, her teeth marks still visible on it. “Is it afternoon yet?”
“It’s not about commitment issues. I just don’t have it in me.” I shrug, staring down at my coffee. “Not anymore.”
Lauren reaches out to gently touch my chin with the tips of her fingers. “Michael…” I love it when she uses my full name, whether it be with her usual exasperated and annoyed tone or with a soft and caring voice like now. It makes me feel present, grounded, like myself.
I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles. “It’s okay, Lore. You said it well enough for both of us.”
“What we have, even if it isn’t forever, it’s still important.” Lauren smiles that soft smile that makes me believe in all the good things life has to offer.
“It is,” I agree. “And I need you to always remember what it feels like, even when I’m gone, and never settle for less than you deserve, which is so much more than what I can give you.”
“You…” She shakes her head and sighs. “In another lifetime, I would have fallen for you so hard.”
“In another lifetime, I would have been falling right along with you.”
* * *
Lauren
“You finally did it!” Giselle exclaims with glee when I walk into the studio the next morning, her generous breasts bouncing when she jumps up and down with excited claps and a naughty gleam in her dark brown eyes. I ignore her and go to set up the wardrobe selection for the Double-O-Femme op happening later today, and Giselle huffs before swaying her Jessica Rabbit curves to her makeup station, picking up her bedazzled phone and clicking away. About ten seconds later, I get a message in the group chat, declaring that I finally“tapped that fine ginger ass.”
“That obvious?” I raise an eyebrow, not even trying to deny it, knowing it’s pointless.
“Chica, you are glowing like Christmas lights on the white picket fence of a suburbia soccer mom’s house.” Giselle places a hand on her hip and leans on the table with a wicked smile.
“That’s disturbingly specific.”
Her grin broadens. “How many orgasms?”
“No,” I deadpan.
“Come on! We’ve been waiting almost two weeks for the two of you to stop delaying the inevitable,” she whines, pouting when I ignore her then deciding to change tactics when that fails to sway me as well. “I always tell!”
“Yes, and you really need to think about why.” I shake my head and move to the rack, checking out the pieces they ordered from my hunt, making sure nothing is missing, and arranging them by size and style.
Tia and Hattie come crashing onto set, followed by Rose and her billowing red curls, all three wearing the same excited expression.
“She won’t share how many orgasms,” Giselle declares with reproach.