Page 74 of Like First Love, Again

Sasha glared. “First of all, ew, use your words. Second, don’t you havea peach? What do you like? Always a great place to start.”

Mia leaned back into her chair. If she asked the question burning on her tongue she was going to give herself away, but she was desperate enough not to care. “It’s not like I can tell exactly what she’s doing when she’s doing it. So how do I reverse engineer those results?”

Sasha’s usually aloof expression warmed. “You haven’t reciprocated?”

Mia closed her eyes like she didn’t understand object permanence. Like she might will herself away if she wanted it bad enough. “I know. I’m fucking awful. I just don’t want to disappoint her. What if she realizes I’m not good enough?—”

Sasha’s chuckle kept Mia from unraveling. She opened her eyes to find her friends looking at her with compassion rather than judgment.

“Does Tori have a problem with how things are progressing?” Sasha asked like she already knew the answer.

“No. She said she wants to go at my pace?—”

“Then don’t worry about it,” Sasha said like she was rendering a verdict.

“God, I bet she means that too,” Daniela joined in. “So what was it like? Was it good?”

Mia bit the inside of her cheek, gaze floating across the pool to Tori. “It’s rude to brag, isn’t it?”

Daniela laughed. “Girl, spill it!”

Taking a gulp of her drink, Mia asked her own question. “Did you know you could have an orgasmeverytime? More than one?”

“How many more?”

“So, so many more,” Mia’s wine-soaked brain replied.

The group’s wistful attention turned in unison to Tori.

“Maybe she can teach Luis something. The number of times I’ve told him not to jab his tongue at it.” One of their friends mimicked a snake’s strike with her hand, sending a ripple of laughter through the group.

Mia sat back while the conversation moved on to something else. She laughed along, but her mind was already elsewhere—across the pool, in Tori’s hands, under her mouth. If Sasha could figure it out in a hotel bar, Mia could damn well figure it out with Wi-Fi and determination. She was going to make Tori feel desired, worshipped, undone.

Apparently feeling the weight of her gaze, Tori turned her head toward Mia. When she met her eyes, Mia grinned. From the rim of her glass while she sipped her drink, Tori gave her a surreptitious little wink.

Yep, she was going to ruin Tori—slowly, thoroughly, shamelessly—even if it killed her.

Thirty-Eight

All week Mia had been un-Mia-like. She’d been preoccupied and quiet. Today, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Tori coming over, so she’d gotten the hint and headed to her loft after work instead of going to Mia’s. As she rolled through maddeningly slow traffic, Tori talked to herself like she’d talk to Larissa.

In the two weeks since Mia had moved home, they’d seen each other every single day. Usually more than once a day since Mia brought Tori homemade lunches. Tori had slept over nearly every night. They’d made things official. That was a lot in a short time even without considering all the other changes Mia was adjusting to.

By the time Tori was punching in the code to her front door, she’d nearly convinced herself that space wasn’t just good, it was important. Giving Mia a little room only meant she’d be able to miss her. How could she miss her if they were never apart?

Her bullshit pep talk disappeared the moment she stepped into her condo and her heart tried to catapult out of her chest. Scattered around her otherwise dark living room were hundreds of little battery operated candles. The mouth-watering aroma ofsome kind of roasted meat came next, but it took Tori a moment to realize there was no sign of food. No sign of Mia either.

Confused but curious, Tori closed the door behind her and kicked off her shoes. She pulled off her blazer and hung it over one of the kitchen stools. Despite the obvious smell of cooking, the kitchen was totally spotless.

Tori followed the mystery to the stairs leading up to her bedroom. As soon as she hit the first step, she heard music playing softly. Training her ear on the sound, Tori laughed. Not just any music. An R&B slow jam about loving a lady so well that she hit high notes.

What the hell is she doing?

“Mia?” Tori called.

No answer.

Forcing herself to walk rather than run, Tori climbed. Her heart was racing despite the slow pace. Whatever this was, it wasn’t goodbye.

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