Page 116 of Salvatore

Her pleasure does funny things to me. Makes me feel ways I’m not used to feeling. Protective.Possessive.

Those sentiments are only further provoked at the sound of shuffling feet across the room.

“Ivy, are you in—” Olivia’s voice cuts through my live-in fantasy, her sharp inhale carrying from the door. “Oh, shit—what the—holy fuck.”

25

IVY

I’m mid mind-melting orgasm,my body tingling with pleasure, my brain thinking crazy things about an even crazier man when Olivia’s voice siphons all the delicious dopamine from my system.

Every inch of me stiffens as my best friend gapes at me from the door in disbelief before backtracking, disappearing into the hall, her footsteps loud as they retreat.

“Did you not hear her approaching?” I shove at Salvatore’s chest, hating the inundation of regret that I’m choosing to blame solely on him.

“I couldn’t hear much of anything over the breathy way you came for me.” He removes his hand from my panties and raises his fingers to his mouth for a taste. And when a masculine sound of appreciation rumbles from his chest as he smirks, I hate myself even more for the way my insides tighten in renewed lust.

What’s worse is the easy way he retrieves his pool cue and carries on with his game as if nothing happened while I’m stuck in a holding pattern of shock.

“Don’t worry,mi bella reina.” He hits the white ball into the purple with a hearty thwack. “Despite the inopportune interruption, you still earned yourself a new wardrobe.”

I glare, hitching up the waistband of my jeans and raising the zipper. “Thanks.”

He snickers as I stride from the room, then jog to catch up to my best friend. “Liv, wait.”

She pauses halfway down the hall, her expression cast in stone as she turns to face me. Her animosity doesn’t let up while I approach, not even when I stand in front of her for a few seconds of awkward silence, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

The whole lust-filled-skirmish-against-the-pool-table had felt like it had a deeper meaning. An agenda of sorts. Like Salvatore was trying to help me.Healme. And I’d been the limp-brained lemming who’d allowed it. Not only that, I’d been enthusiastic. Even trusting.

Idiot.

“I swear I can explain…” I swipe at an errant crease in my blouse, frantically buying time to come up with said explanation.

“Really?” Her brows hike toward her hairline. “Please do, because what I think I saw has me concerned that you should be medicated with anti-psychotics.”

I cringe. “Your suggestion holds merit.”

“My suggestion holds merit?” she hisses. “What in the ass did I just walk in on?”

“A slight lapse in judgement.” I should tell her this isn’t my first offense. That my crimes against common sense where Salvatore are concerned have been far worse. But the disappointment on her face is already brutal.

“Do I need to remind you of how you reacted to me being with Remy? You literally wanted to walk out on our friendship because of him. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you still glare in his direction when you assume I’m not watching.”

“I know,” I mumble. “And the worst part is that my opinion of him hasn’t changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Forget it.”

“Remy told me his older brother thought you and Salvo had slept together the day of my dad’s funeral, but Iloudlylaughed it off because there’s no way that could be true.”

I grimace. “Definitely my bad.”

Her face falls. “You slept with him?”

“Only a little bit.”

She glowers.

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