Page 50 of Curses & Cold Brew
“I think you should get some sleep first.” She kissed my temple, the action surprisingly tender. “Let me tuck you in, red.”
“You’re not just going to leave me alone in here, right?” I wasn’t ready for her to exit our little lust-filled bubble. I knew the moment she left this room, reality would set in, and I would abandon sleep to overthink every moment of this evening and what it meant . . . and worse, what it didn’t mean.
Ramona nuzzled my hair, sleepily resting her cheek atop my head. “Not a chance, love.”
Those four words blanketed my looming anxiety, tucking it away, safe and sound, for some other time.
Together, we settled under the blankets and entwined our legs and arms. She pulled me into her chest, and I fell fast asleep to the sound of her heart, the perfect tempo to plunge me into dreams of a world where we did this every night.
24
IRIS
There was no better sleep aid than being wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous woman. I had no idea how long I’d slept. The sky that peeked between the sleek grey curtains flirted with dawn. I didn’t want to get up—ever. Once this night between us ended, would we ever get another? Maybe I could go full cliche sapphic date and roll this morning into a brunch, into window shopping, into an early dinner, into another wild, fun night, and then, after a five-day-long date, we just kind of lived together? It had happened to me before . . .
But Ramona wasn’t a lovesick witch or nymph or werewolf or any of the other paranormals I’d dated before. I felt it in my bones: this was different. And I was already preemptively heartbroken about it ending.
But even with all of that angst rolling around my brain, my bladder won out and I decided to get up. I disentangled myself from Ramona’s sleepy limbs and laughed when she clung to me for a second like she didn’t want me to go.
I kissed her shoulder, and one of her cheeks dimpled. “I’m just going to get some water.”And to piss like a racehorse, butshe didn’t need to know.Quiet luxury and all that. “Go back to sleep.”
“I’m a demon,” she countered in a grumpy, raspy voice, her eyes still closed. “I don’t need to sleep.”
Still, I slunk to the tobacco leather wingback in the corner and grabbed the navy-blue sweater hanging over the arm.
“Can I wear this?” I whispered into the dark room, holding up the chunky knit.
Ramona sat up against the headboard and slicked her mussed hair off her face. “I’d prefer you wear nothing at all,” she purred, folding her arms. “But if you must, you might as well wear that one.” I was already tugging the sweater over my head when she added, “I made it for you, after all.”
I froze as the hemline dropped to midthigh. “You made this for me?” I studied the soft sweater, the moon phases embroidered in silver across the chest.The same silver as Ramona’s eyes.
“I must confess I had fantasies of you wearing nothing but my sweater,”—Ramona drank me in, indulging herself in every inch of exposed skin—“but they didn’t do you justice.”
“This is so beautiful. I—” Emotions constricted in my throat, choking out the words. I looked at her and my eyes hooked as I prowled back toward her.
She arched a brow. “I thought you wanted to get a drink of water?”
“After,” I said.
“After what?”
“After you fuck me in the sweater you made for me,” I crooned, crawling up the bed toward her.
Mischievous delight filled her eyes as she grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down on the bed. We let our hands and mouths explore until sweat coated our skin. She tasted like temptation and the sweetest of sins. Hearing her shout my nameas her body shuddered around my fingers was enough for me to accept any damnation that she’d brought me.
The sun was peeking through the curtains by the time I managed to get up for that glass of water—and finally empty my bladder, which was probably a good idea after what we’d just done. The vivid echoes of Ramona midorgasm flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but beam with a strange sort of pride that I could make her come undone just as much as she did me.
A sated smile affixed to my lips, I practically floated down the stairs toward the kitchen.
It hadn’t even been twelve hours, but I already felt familiar with her home. The artistic minimalism made it easy to navigate the space. Part of me hoped Esme would take her sweet time haunting Maple Hollow if it meant I was “forced” to be stuck in this place a little while longer.
I found a glass in her very neatly arranged cupboard, and as I filled the water, I heard the telltale click of Ramona’s designer shoes approaching. A little flare of disappointment bloomed in my belly that she’d already gotten dressed.
Oh well. All the more fun to peel off her clothes again.
“Did you come down here to make me breakfast? Because I’m starving,” I said with a laugh as I turned off the tap. “I’m going to need to refuel after last night.”
But when I turned around, it wasn’t Ramona standing there at all.
