Page 116 of Best Served Cold

Maybe he feels the same way, because he won’t stop touching me. When we get into the bedroom, he backs me against the bed, and I fall back onto it, laughing and so full of joy I could float. Until my head collides with something hard.

I turn to touch it, surprised to find a three-inch crystal.

Sitting up in his bed, I grin at him. “Dottie gave you this, didn’t she?” I ask, holding it up. “You pretend to think her woo-woo stuff is BS, but you’ve been sleeping with it under your pillow. You’ve beenstrokingit, haven’t you?”

He gives me a slow, lazy grin and lowers his hand to his dick for a single, rough stroke.

Oh. My…

Yeah, I was asking for that, and I don’t regret that I got it.

“I might not believe in it,” he says, taking a step toward me. I fall back onto my elbows, the crystal still clutched in my hand. “But I figure it makes sense to cover my bases. So, yeah, I’ve been carrying it around off and on. You want to rub your fingers over it while I have my mouth on you? It’s my turn to get a taste.”

Without any other warning, he pulls me down to him, hooking my legs over his shoulders, and—oh,goodness.

Every feeling is so heightened that it’s only seconds before I’m panting and begging, glancing around wildly for the purple condom. The crystal falls from my fingers onto the blanket, forgotten.

“I really need your dick,” I say—it seems like a time for honesty—and Rob swears against my flesh before sucking me in one more time.

Then he pulls away, giving me a wicked grin. “Good, because it really needs you.”

He climbs off the bed, but only to put on the condom. It should look funny, seeing him encased in purple. It doesn’t, though. It didn’t look very funny when it was any of the other colors either. No, it looked like something I was desperate to have inside my body.

He climbs over me, his eyes hungry, and my body arcs up to him—wanting him to conquer, to take, to fill me.Wanting him.He adjusts himself and then thrusts in so slowly the pleasure is almost painful, making me frantic for him. But it’s slower tonight. Reverent, even. And he kisses me slowly, deeply, taking me at the same leisurely pace, working me up to an orgasm that’s so overwhelming I see stars at the edges of my vision.

“That’s it. Give it to me, Soph,” he says. As if I weren’t already willing to give him everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ROB

She’s so beautiful, with her eyelashes flat against her cheek, her legs tucked up, her arm slung across her chest.

Fuck, am I the kind of creep who watches women while they sleep? I guess I am now. I don’t think I mind too much either.

Last night changed me. Just like the night I met Travis all those years ago. It was at an open mic night, and I was falling-down drunk. I played one of the songs I cowrote with David, and Travis told me I’d covered it better than Bad Magic played it. I told him my whole sad story, something I remembered none of the next morning, and he told me we were going to make something great together. Better than my old band. I told him all I could make right then was a garbage fire.

Game. Set. Match.

I want to build something great with Sophie too. I’m not sure how yet, but I figure most great things aren’t built in one night. We’re off to a good start, though. We’ve given this thing between us a foundation of truth, and if you ask me, that’s the strongest foundation possible.

I decide to make pancakes, then realize I only have flour and eggs, so I settle for eggs and toast. And coffee, obviously.

I’m in the middle of making breakfast when I get Travis’s text.

We’re all set for your birthday. Did you go see about a girl last night?

I did. Thanks, man.

Sophie comes up behind me while I’m still at the stove. I turn toward her, and she wraps her arms around my neck. I think to myself,I could get used to this.

Then I notice she’s wearing one of my band T-shirts, and I like it. My God, how I like it. My T-shirt. My woman.Mine.

“I stayed over,” she says into my ear, her breath soft on my neck.

“You did.” I set the spatula down. “Could you please leave now, before it gets awkward?”

Her hair is mussed, and the lines from my pillow are pressed into her face. It’s as if my bed has decided she’s ours too. I pull her closer and kiss her neck, her cheek. I try to kiss her lips, but she pulls back, smiling. “I have morning breath. You really will want me to leave if you kiss me.”

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