Page 47 of The Suitcase Swap

Maybe he was selfish, but he didn’t want that. He wanted her here, with him. For a brief, heady span of time, he wanted her thinking of no one but him. He wanted her to realize, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she felt good because he made her feel that way.

He took his finger off the sweet spot, tracing around the material. With his other hand, he reached up and touched her chin, tipping it up until she had no choice but to look at him. Her mouth curved into a pout, her cheeks flushed, her pupils wide. Sophie Swann looked wrecked. Pride flared in his chest as he stole another kiss from that pouting mouth. ‘You think you can come like this?’

‘Not if you’re not.’ She huffed and he loved how petulant she sounded. Like he owed her something and she was completely put out that he wasn’t delivering.

He traced the tips of his fingers feather light over her most responsive spots. She shuddered, a desperate whine trapped in her throat.

‘I know, I’m being terrible darling, aren’t I? You’re right there. I can feel it.’ He leaned in and licked her lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. He let it go slowly. ‘So mean. You don’t deserve such treatment.’ Another feather-light caress, dipping away when she chased the movement with her hips. ‘Look at me, darling. Look at me, and I’ll let you. I want to see you come apart.’

She breathed deeply, her arms tightening around his neck, and looked him square in the eyes. She was so turned on, her pupils so wide, he could barely see the colour of her irises.

‘There you are,’ he said, moving his thumb slowly around where she needed it, just a few tight circles. Then he drew it back and tapped her clit hard with his thumb.

Then Sophie Swann came apart in his arms, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and his name on her lips.

Chapter Thirteen

After a night of amazingly heavy sleep, Sophie woke up early and video-called her best friend Edie.

It was a Sunday and Edie loved nothing more than moving as slowly as possible on such days, often lounging about in her sleepwear until late in the afternoon. So it wasn’t entirely a surprise when she answered the call in a set of teal pyjamas, her small body swimming in a gold patterned robe. Edie’s features were delicate, her nose tilted slightly at the end, and with her mass of auburn hair, Sophie always thought her friend looked rather like a woodland sprite, if woodland sprites had sharp tongues and the libido of a cat in heat.

Her hair was currently piled up high on her head in a messy heap, held together by a plastic clip. Thick blonde streaks twisted here and there through the mass.

‘You got highlights,’ Sophie said. ‘Obviously. Sorry, the tea hasn’t kicked in yet.’ Likely because she was having a difficult time drinking it. Mike had tasted like tea yesterday. She mentally swerved away from that thought, returning to her best friend.

Edie smiled faintly. ‘Reggie said he preferred “natural-looking women”, whatever that means.’

‘Ah,’ Sophie said. ‘So the streaks were a spite move?’

‘No,’ Edie said. ‘I refuse to let a man have that much control over me. I’d been thinking about getting the streaks anyway. I just pushed the timeline forward. Me not wearing make-up to our last and likely final date will be my spite move.’

‘You think you not wearing make-up will be a deal-breaker for him?’ Sophie asked.

‘No,’ Edie said, laughing evilly into her coffee. ‘He likes me too much. His comments happen to be a deal-breaker for me, however.’

‘He lasted what, six whole weeks?’

‘Seven,’ Edie corrected. ‘I must be getting more patient in my old age. How are you doing?’ She squinted at the screen. ‘You’re looking a little washed out. Rough night’s sleep?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘No, I slept well.’ Like a rock, actually. She didn’t usually sleep that long or that heavily. ‘I’m still tired this morning, though.’

‘Go back to bed,’ Edie said promptly.

‘I might later.’ Sophie settled deeper into her seat, wrapping her fingers around her mug.

Edie frowned at her. ‘Okay, what’s going on? You’ve got a’ – she waved one hand around her face and shoulders in a rough circle – ‘thing about you.’

Sophie took a deep breath, then mumbled a series of words into her tea that she wasn’t sure evenshecould make out.

‘I’m going to need that again,’ Edie said impishly. ‘Except slowly and with enunciation. Pretend that you actually want to tell me whatever it is you’re struggling with.’

Sophie puffed out a breath. ‘Fine.’ With as few words as possible, and many, many intimate details left out, she went over the events of the night before.

‘Dry-hump,’ Edie said thoughtfully, as she stared at her cup, ‘is a terrible phrase. It’s better in French –frottage, I think.’

‘The French have a word for everything,’ Sophie muttered into her tea.

‘Yes, love, that’s how language does tend to work, having words for things.’ Edie frowned, holding up a hand. ‘Wait a moment, this is the same man who flipped out after a single kiss?’

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