Page 82 of Ripple Effect

“I’m sorry.” He moves a hand to caress my cheek, thumb gently stroking my jawline. “I shouldn’t cast judgment on whatever your sex life was before me. God knows I don’t like thinking about it.”

“Me too.” Drawing a deep breath, I muster a smile. “Ancient history, right?”

“Right, let’s just leave it in the past.” The tension in the room lifts a fraction. “Instead, we can focus on you and me. Tonight, at my apartment.”

“Ah, my favorite topics.”

“Should we break apart for the day, get our shit done, and then regroup later?”

My lips turn down in a faux pout. “You want to leave already?”

“I’ve seen you pretty much daily for the past several weeks. I spent the night in your bed last night.” He gives me that familiar exasperated-yet-fond look. “Is that not enough for you?”

“Never enough.”

His hand trails over my hip, curving around the swell of my ass and yanking me against him. “See? I knew you were insatiable.”

“I am,” I say, my smile brightening. “Only when it comes to you.”

Another smirk. “And I love that about you.”

“Fine, fine.” Resigning myself to his point—for now—I pull back, lingering in the doorway for an extra few seconds. My gaze sweeps across his tall frame, and I do my best to drink in the sight of him, still dripping wet and half-hard in my bathroom. “Get yourself dressed, and then get out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He slides his phone off the counter and gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, and Daze, I’ll let you know if I get a text back.”

“Right, I almost forgot.”

His gaze softens. “Wish I could say the same.”

* * *

When I stepinto Elio’s apartment later that night, there’s an immediate sense of spaciousness that catches me off guard. His couch has been pushed against the wall, and the entirety of the living room stands bare, cleared of all its usual clutter.

The space is bathed in a soft glow, with candles lining the windowsills, their flames casting gentle, flickering shadows. My eyes dart to the vast open area, and I can’t help but let out a small chuckle, wondering if he really thinks we need this much space for whatever he’s planning.

Against this transformed backdrop, his silhouette appears—tall and lean with that mess of dark hair. He looks up as I walk in, his deep brown eyes searching mine. There’s a tension there, an apprehension that makes me wonder if everything’s okay.

The gentle hum of Noah Kahan plays out in the background, contrasting with his sudden, slightly frantic demeanor.

“Daisy,” he starts, voice a touch shaky, “I ... I think I fucked up.” Raising a brow, I tilt my head, urging him to continue. With a sigh, he runs a hand through his thick hair. “I invited you over for sex before we even had our first official date.”

“I invited myself. And I think we’re beyond that point by now,” I say, taking a step closer, attempting to stifle my laughter. “Besides, I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”

His eyes, previously filled with worry, now sparkle with a hint of mischief. “What if I tell you I only spent a few bucks on this.”

He pulls a wrapped package off the coffee table beside him, thrusting it into my waiting hands. I take a cursory glance at the back of it, immediately noticing that it’s some sort of video game, a round disc in a clear, used case.

My laughter dies down, replaced with disbelief. “You want us to play video games for our first date?”

“Thought you said we were past that point?”

I give him an incredulous scoff. “Well, now that you mention it—”

“Would you just look at the writing on the top, please?”

I flip the case right side up, gaze tracing over the scribbled letters. “Surf Pro Live? El, what is this?”

“Virtual surfing.” His face lights up with excitement. “The cool thing about it is it syncs real-time data about weather and wave conditions. And, er, I already checked—they have your actual board on here and everything.”

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