“You’re too much like Holden.” I shake my head. “Leaving before I hit you.”
“Fuck, if he hits you.” Chase shakes his head. “He’s never hit Holden.”
“It’s the latter, isn’t it?” Oliver asks.
Chase just laughs.
I make good on my word.
They keep exchanging—
Fuck, I don’t want to know.
I settle into my suite. Try to focus on a mock-up.
But Chase’s advice keeps flitting through my head.
Don’t think about what she wants. Think about what she needs.
What if she needs someone who knows how to love? Someone who isn’t a fucked-up mess?
Someone who isn’t me.
I know how to protect her. How to take care of her. How to make her come.
But maybe I don’t know how to love her.
Maybe I can’t be what she needs.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Skye
I toss my bag on the leather sofa. Not that the couch is real leather.
It’s cheap, from Ikea. Not at all well-made. Total trash compared to the several-thousand-dollar couch at Forest’s dad’s place.
Or the modern sectional at my parents’ place (Mom loves “modern” furniture).
Hell, the damn thing is a little lumpy.
Torn in all the wrong places.
But it’s perfect.
It’s Forest’s.
A couch we bought together. Okay, that I helped him buy. God, I still remember that day at Ikea, dragging him through the tiny rooms, trying to snap him out of his she’s fucking someone else haze.
Nothing inspires a move like walking in on your soon to be ex with another guy.
But it also—
Well, I’m not sure what Forest would say, but as far as I could tell, he was a simmering ball of hurt and anger for the first few weeks. Months even.
It was hard, getting all this shit together. But we did it. And now it’s ours.
Okay, it’s his. But my mark is here.
Black blanket with a spider print. Movie posters in black frames. Some of his favorites—both dumb action movies and animated features his mom loved—and mine.
All three of the Before movies. On the wall with the TV. The main attraction.
“Princess, you really are a parody of yourself.” Forest wraps his arms around me. Brings his lips to my neck. “Could you love those movies anymore?”
“No.”
“At least you know.”
“I know?”
“What you love.”
“You don’t?”
He sucks on my skin. Softly. Then harder.
Hard enough my thoughts scatter.
We’re talking about something. But it can’t possibly be as important as this.
It can’t possibly be as interesting as this.
Is anything?
He drags his lips down my neck. To the space where my neck and shoulder meet. “I tell you how much I like this dress?” His fingers brush the strap.
“Mmm.” Maybe. Probably. What are we talking about?
“I’ve been thinking about taking it off since I picked you up.”
At my parents’ place. Then we went out for ramen (with extra green onions, of course). And sake.
Now, we’re at his place. And I’m buzzed. And ready to rip his clothes off.
He sucks on my skin.
Softly.
Then harder.
“You wear it to drive me crazy?” he asks.
I nod. “Wait until you see what I have under it.”
He pulls my body into his. My back against his chest, my ass against his crotch.
He’s hard.
God, it’s the best feeling in the world. I’ll never get tired of it.
“I will.” His fingers dig into my hips. “I have something for you.”
“Forest,” I breathe.
“Yeah, princess?”
“I need you.”
“How do you need me?” He rocks his hips, grinding his cock against my ass. “Here?” He slips his hand over my thigh, between my legs.
It’s over my dress. He isn’t touching me properly. But it still drives me insane.
“Here?” He drags his hand up my torso, neck, chin, all the way to my mouth. “Or here?”
“Is there an all of the above?”
His laugh is loud. Full. It makes his body shake. “Fuck, Skye.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“I know.” He steps backward. Spins me around. Looks me in the eyes. “You’re so charming.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He brushes my hair behind my ear. “We need to celebrate more.”
“We’ve been celebrating for the last two days.”
“I have matcha ice cream in the freezer from that place in Culver City.”
Mmm, the perfect mix of creamy coconut, sugar, matcha. Not as good as him but damn good all the same. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
His smile spreads over his cheeks. It’s easy. Free. Gorgeous.
He has such a beautiful smile.
It lights up his entire face. Especially those coffee eyes.
I want to stare at them all day.
He takes a step back. Motions to the couch. “Sit.”
“Take your shirt off.”
“How are those two things related?”
“You ask me to do something. I ask you to do something.”
“How much did you drink?” he asks.
I hold up my thumb and forefinger a little.
He raises a brow you sure about that?
“Very sure.”
“Sit.”
“Shirt.” I motion take it off.
He doesn’t. Which is cruel. But probably for the best. I’m already dying to fuck him senseless. If he starts losing clothing—
Ahem.
I smooth my dress. Take a seat on the couch.
He fills two mugs with ice cream. Then two glasses with water.