Page 23 of Chilled and Thrilled

“Oh, crap.”

9

SOPHIE

“So that, um, happened?”

Understatement of the century. It’s kind of still happening because my lack of panties has led to Bram’s cum leaking freely down my inner thighs. Also, it feels kind of like somebody smacked me in the vagina, because I am sore. And panicking, because this is so obviously a panic-worthy situation.

How the fuck did I go from determinedly moving on, to swiping right on my best friend’s father, to riding his giant dick on the couch in under five minutes? I wanted it, too. Like, would have let him do anything he wanted to me level, wanted it. From the moment Bram Vogel put his hands on me, common sense left the building, and my inner hoe came out to play.

Bram stares at me, utterly calm as he portions risotto out onto two plates. Shirtless, because he tore my tank top to shreds and gave me his T-shirt to wear instead. “Stop freaking out.” He opens a drawer to take out forks, calm as can be.

The noise this comment elicits is somewhere betweenhysterical shriek and hysterical sob. Lots of hysteria, either way.

“Bram,” I plead, glancing toward the back deck where snow appears to have built up another few inches in the time it took him to pump me full of Honor’s would-be brothers and sisters. There’s no way I’m getting out of here tonight, and the last thing I need is to be tempted to go for round two. “That was a really, really bad idea thatcannothappen again.”

He looks up at me, a plate in each hand. “It’s going to happen again.” Ignoring my disbelieving hiss, he rounds the counter and sets our dinner on the breakfast nook table. Then, realizing I’m too busy gaping at him to follow, he turns to look at me sternly. “You need to eat something, Sophie.”

My shoulders sag, and for lack of a better plan, I pad across the kitchen. My stomach growls as I plop down before one of the steaming plates. “It can’t happen again. Ever.”

Taking the place across from me, Bram unfolds his napkin and sets itin his lap. As if we’re at a freaking dinner meeting and I’m not on the verge of a mental break. “Why not?”

I gape at him. “Honor! E&V!”

He frowns. “Honor is a grown woman who cares deeply for both of us and wants us to be happy. I’m sure there will be a period of adjustment, but in the long run?—”

“A period of adjustment? Bram!” I splutter, and—forgetting the several dozen stitches along the back of my scalp in the wake of this far more pressing turn of events—let my head drop back against the wall behind me. “Ow!” My hand flies up as pain shoots through my skull, and Bram is on his feet in an instant, rounding the table.

My attempts to wave him away are ignored, and I let my chin drop, allowing him to examine the still throbbing back of my head. “You’re okay. Please be careful, Sophie. Fuck.”

I look up again, and immediately regret it, because I’mable to meet his gray eyes as he curls a big, warm hand around the back of my neck and leans forward to kiss my temple.

In response, my heart performs what could only be described as a drunken jig.

Apparently satisfied I’m not going to bleed all over his kitchen floor (which looks way beyond my pay grade to replace) Bram straightens up and returns to his seat across from me. He picks up his fork and glances up to meet my shell-shocked expression with a wry smile. “I believe you were scolding me.”

“Right. Thank you.” I pick up my fork, too, because I am super freaking hungry. This proves to be a mistake when my first taste is the single best thing I’ve ever eaten. It’s a struggle to maintain the pretense of being unimpressed as I swallow and immediately dive for another bite. “Okay. So. This is not going to happen again for a lot of reasons, and I need you to get on board. Can we not agree the potential complications aren’t worth it?”

Bram smirks, looking annoyingly attractive as he leans back, his bare chest drawing my dumb eyeballs down like magnets. “How is it?”

I blink. “Um. It was… satisfying? I’m not sure what you’re looking for here. You were there, you know I came like three times. Isn’t that a good enough performance review?”

My heart does that super annoying dance thing again when Bram’s face splits into a huge, effortless grin. “I was referring to the risotto, Sophie. Though I’ll happily accept the positive ‘performance review’ instead.”

Judging by the heat rushing to my face, I’m blushing. Just to give myself something to do other than stammer at him, I dive for another bite of the regrettably incredible food. “It’s okay,” I lie, mouth full of risotto, just as more of his cum leaks out of me. Straightening up, I glare at him. “So. As I was going to say. No sex.”

“You swiped right, Sophie. Doesn’t that indicate you’re open to pursuing an intimate relationship?” Bram muses, eyes bright and mischievous.

Oh my god. I really want to throw something at his face. How is he not the least bit worried about what’s going to come from this? I grit my teeth, annoyed that I can’t work up any genuine anger. “We pursued it. That’s what just happened. We tried it. It was fun, but an objectively horrible idea, and said ‘intimate relationship’ has been terminated. Capiche?”

Bram takes another bite of food and takes his time swallowing. “I disagree,” he says after a long pause, setting his fork down to give me his full attention. “I’m not sure about you, but I checked quite a few boxes on that app. While the sex we just had was immensely satisfying, I, for one, think we should honor the spirit of the YUM app and explore quite a bit more. After all, I doubt either of us will encounter another ninety-four percent match anytime soon.”

Okay, am I getting super wet, or is that just more of his cum?

Both. It’s both.

I have to actively remind myself to breathe. “So that’s all you want from me? Sex?”

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