Page 56 of Watch Me Burn
“Of course. Toast?”
“You’re a goddess.” She grabs two slices of bread and drops them in the toaster, then leans against the counter. A wicked grin spreads across her face. “So… want to tell me about that hot and heavy lip-lock you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Loaded shared Monday afternoon?”
Maren’s been gone for the last few days. She left before Damien did on Monday. Her grandmother had cataract surgery, and she's been staying with Estella during her recovery.
“Can’t you just call him Damien?” I stir the eggs, keeping my eyes on the pan.
“No, I like coming up with fun nicknames for him. Especially because it bothers you so much.”
“How old are you?”
“Not as old as you.”
The toaster pops up, and Maren transfers the toast to a plate before adding two more slices of bread.
“You’re only four months younger than I am.”
“And it feels like a lifetime sometimes. Now quit stalling. And don’t give me that innocent act. The entire volunteer staff saw you two going at it like teenagers. Jenny actually fanned herself with a clipboard, and Tate, God bless him, made some very inappropriate noises that I’m pretty sure violated several workplace harassment policies.”
“We were not ‘going at it.’”
“Honey, the man had you pressed against that door like he was trying to fuck you through your clothes. We all got hot and bothered just watching.” She grins wider. “So spill. All you’d give me Sunday morning was that you had a ‘nice’ time, but based on that kiss, I think Luna had a ‘really good’ time.”
I turn off the burner and divide the eggs between two plates, buying myself time. There’s no point in lying to her.
“Okay, fine.” I hand her a plate. “Things got a little heated Saturday night.”
The second set of toast pops up, and I grab it, slathering butter on both pieces while I figure out how much to tell her.
Maren’s eyes light up with interest as she takes a bite of eggs. “I knew you were lying when you wouldn’t spill. Now define ‘heated.’”
Warmth creeps over my skin at the memory. “I let him go down on me in his penthouse.”
The fork clatters against Maren’s plate.
“Luna fucking Marie… So, how was it?”
I exhale a long breath. “Glorious. Mind-blowing. Heart-stopping.”
“Shit. I can’t believe you kept this to yourself for almost five days.”
“I know. But I just needed some time to wrap my head around it. And we were both a little busy. How’s Estella?”
“She’s fine. Takes more than that to slow her down.” She waves her hand as if she’s swatting away the question. “And we are never too busy for that conversation. You just grab me, shove me in a closet, and say, ‘Mar, Damien Wolfe ate my pussy so good last night, I saw God.’”
She picks up her fork and resumes eating like she’s just commented on the weather.
“I’ll remember that next time.”
“But the real question is why you stopped there. Why didn’t you just ride him into next week?”
I push eggs around my plate, my appetite gone. The nausea crawls up my throat again, the same feeling that’s been plaguing me, along with the headaches.
“I don’t know.”
We both look toward the window at the sound of a massive white delivery truck rumbling up the driveway with “MedCore Systems” emblazoned on the side.
“What the hell?” I set down my fork.
