Page 65 of Ripple Effect

I’m not ashamed of talking about this with her, but it’s something we haven’t fully navigated yet. And now—with that kiss lingering between us, with our nights spent tangled up together—it’s a tough subject to broach.

“I haven’t had the steady income I’m used to, not with everything going on,” I admit. “I just need to film a quick scene or two.”

Her eyes widen a fraction. She’s trying to hide it, but I can sense her discomfort simmering beneath the surface. “What kind of scene?”

“Solo,” I reassure her. “Subscribers can donate and leave requests. Specific things they want to hear or see.”

“Like what?”

I press my tongue to my cheek, searching for the right words. “Sometimes they want specific scenarios, or they want me to say certain things. It’s all about fantasy, about giving them a worthwhile escape so they’ll keep coming back for more.”

She bites her lip, a clear sign that she’s fighting with her own emotions. “Did you ... I mean, when was the last time you ...”

“Filmed a scene with a partner? It’s been a while.”

“A while,” she echoes.

“Since before I met you.” I swallow, thick and heavy. “Why? You still a subscriber of mine? Looking to sample the goods?”

“No.” She scoffs, trying her best to appear nonchalant. “I already told you I wouldn’t look at your account. Besides, I haven’t had the time to even open the site, let alone watch anything.”

I raise a brow, the jealousy now biting at me, too. “So, who else did you subscribe to before?”

She hesitates, her gaze flicking away. “I don’t remember their names.”

“Oh, yeah? You want to pull up your account for me? I could help you go through the list, make sure you’re not following any creeps.”

“That seems unnecessary.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Fine.” With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she pulls up the app and hands over her phone.

Immediately, her username jumps out of me from the top corner, and I can’t help but chuckle at the irony. “WildFlower. A little too apt, don’t you think?”

She glares, but there’s no heat in it. “Okay, Mr. EverettRain.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve got no room to judge,” I say, snorting a laugh. “Besides, it’s perfect for you.”

I’m still smiling as I tap into her profile, but as I scroll through her subscriptions, my humor quickly evaporates. Each new profile feels like a sting, and my protective side rears its ugly head. So, naturally, I start deleting the subscriptions like a man possessed, one after the other.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she protests, lunging for the phone.

Laughing, I lift the device high above my head, challenging her. “Just trying to vet the competition.”

Without so much as a word, she pushes off her side of the couch, climbing onto my lap. She’s fully straddling me, one leg over each of my thighs, and I’m momentarily stunned. Our faces are inches apart, her panting breath coming in these quick, little huffs. The feeling of her weight, her warmth, it disarms me.

I may be stiff beneath her now, practically immobile, but she’s clueless to the fact. She’s still trying to grab for the phone, sliding and adjusting herself on top of me to get a better reach.

Our hips are perfectly aligned, the thin layers of clothing doing little to dampen the feeling.

My stomach dips, my body responding in a way I can’t control. And when she finally realizes what’s happening, I’m so fucking hard against her that it’s embarrassing.

With a gasp, her wide brown eyes lock onto mine. “Elio ...”

“Yeah?” I ask, voice rougher than intended, gaze fixed on her slightly parted lips.

“I didn’t mean to, um, you know ...” A faint blush creeps across her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m sorry.”

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