Page 14 of Bring You Back

“Here.” I move to my back, guiding her over me. “Ride me.”

She works me in, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I’m reminded why this is my favorite position with her. I have a better view of her body, I can get deeper, and I love watching her take control. She’s wild and rough, bouncing breasts and unwavering eye contact. I grip her hips, hissing through my teeth. That’s it. This right here. I rub her with my thumb when she slows, my eyes trailing the length of her neck as her head falls back with a gratified moan.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

For someone else.

“Wake up, buttercup.”

I groan awake, half my face buried in a cookie scented pillow, a sheet draped over my bare back. My eyes open and immediately squint at the sun glaring through the window. It’s brighter than I want it to be. My head pops up. “Fuck. What time is it?”

Reyna appears in front of me, giving me reprieve from the sun. “Later.”

It’s not numbers, but I get her meaning from the regretful way she delivers the word. And from the glare of the sun, that’s back in my face when Reyna steps aside just enough for it to blind me again. I flinch back and squint up at her, unamused, and she laughs down at me before stepping back in place. I laugh with her, despite myself, but it dies off once my head hits the pillow.

It’s past my optimal surfing time. I’ll have to make up for that tonight.

“Why didn’t you get me up sooner?”

She shrugs, unapologetic. “You were pretty knocked out. Looked like you needed it.”

I don’t argue. I actually did. Sleep hasn’t come as swift or lasted as long lately. I spot my clothes piled near Reyna’s feet and I sit up, keeping the sheet over my junk as I reach for my shirt.

“I’ve seen that before, you know,” she teases as she circles her finger at my cover up.

“Your mom hasn’t,” I say with a pointed look at the open door, then tug on my shirt.

“She wouldn’t mind.” The statement is half simple, half bitter.

“My point exactly,” I say with a slight laugh that makes her smile. I register the plate in her hand, breathe in the scent of cinnamon.

She sets it on the nightstand. “It’s something.”

I slip on my boxers and toss the sheet aside as I stare at the pieces of toast that are coated in butter and cinnamon. Reyna can’t cook, and we don’t always eat the same foods. And nobody expects Valerie to stock anything other than what she eats herself. If Reyna wasn’t making her own money, she’d still be eating most meals at my house or Tommy’s.

“I’ll get something at the house.”

“More for me,” Reyna chimes, swiping up the plate. She bites into a piece of toast, emitting a loud crunch, as I remove my phone from my shorts pocket. I scroll through the unanswered texts from Tommy.

One from Mom.

“They know you’re here.”

There’s disapproval in her tone that I hadn’t told them myself. I was sort of busy last night.Making you come and getting my needed sleep,I smart off in my head.

So Tommy and my mom know I’m here. Fine and well. But does Camille?

Reyna turns to leave and I reach for her, my hand latching onto her dress. “I’m sorry,” I blurt at the pink fabric, my fist loosening and relaxing to rest against her leg. My eyes drift up to meet her tentative stare.

“For what?”

I drop my hand to my lap and slip my phone back inside my pocket, stalling an answer.

For not knowing where to start. Or how to start.

For not saying what I should.

For breaking us.

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