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Then another.
From her head to her belly button.
Wearing only her necklace.
Fuck, she looks gorgeous draped in those dark sheets.
I need to be there watching pleasure spill over her expression.
Ty: Do it now.
Indigo: Do what now, sir?
Ty: Fuck yourself.
Indigo: If you promise.
Ty: This isn't a negotiation. Do it now. Or you won't get what you want.
Indigo: Right now?
Ty: Yes.
Indigo: Does that mean I'll get what I want if I do it?
It does. And she knows it.
She knows how to play me too fucking well.
Ty: Don't make me ask again.
Indigo: Yes, sir.
My cock whines.
The line goes quiet for a few minutes. Then my cell buzzes with a message.
Indigo: Not as good as the real thing. At least, not what I remember. Good night, Ty.
Ty: Good night.
She's too good at this.
All night, she's all I think about.
The part of her wine lips. The flush of her cheeks. The sound of her laugh.
Tomorrow night isn't soon enough.
I need to find a reserve of patience somehow.
I'm the one who makes her wait.
Not the other way around.
No matter how well she pushes my buttons.
Chapter Twenty-One
Indigo
All morning, Sienna alternates between asking me to turn down the sun and asking me to turn down my music.
I tease her by raising the volume on the music. But I keep the playlist to albums she enjoys.
Okay, albums she doesn't hate. Lorde, Fiona Apple, Amy Winehouse.
She threatens to destroy my computer if I play Back to Black one more time, but we both know she won't. I play it twice a day, most days, and she always taps along to Tears Dry on Their Own.
Besides, I need to make her hangover painful. So she thinks twice before drinking heavily again.
I meant to cut her off at one drink, but maybe this is better. She overdid it in a safe place, with me watching over her. And now she's feeling an agony that will encourage future moderation.
She starts school soon.
She lives her own life soon.
I stop seeing her every day soon.
I'm proud of her. I want her to soar. I want her to stay the strong, independent woman she is—
But, fuck, I'm going to miss her so badly.
So I savor every one of her complaints. And I drag her for an afternoon coffee. And I even give her a few details about Ty.
Nothing important. Nothing that needs to stay mine.
Only enough to tune all my thoughts to him.
His text is on my cell. He's picking me up at eight. He's not asking, really. But I know I can say no.
I know he'll respect it.
But there isn’t a single part of me that wants to deny him.
I don another bodysuit.
A short black dress. Heeled leather sandals. Wine lipstick.
There. I look good. Like me.
The sex goddess version of me.
Sienna is still hung over on the couch, but she manages to get up for long enough to tell me I look hot. And demand I show up no sooner than dawn.
I promise to do my best. Then I meet Ty downstairs, in front of another rented limo.
He helps me into the car. Shoots me a look that dares me to ask for more.
But I don't. Not yet.
"You look gorgeous," he says.
"You too."
He smiles. "Exactly what I'm going for."
"I know."
"I rebooked the photographer," he says. "He'll be fast. Half an hour. Then we'll have the balcony to ourselves."
"Just us?"
He nods. "There's a private booth."
"Oh."
"It's not, what do you say here, it's not the Pentagon, but it should be secluded."
My sex clenches. "You did promise."
"No, I didn't."
Fuck, he didn't. He never does.
He's always teasing me.
Pushing me.
Daring me to ask for more.
"Will you?" I ask.
His eyes meet mine. "Will I what?" He holds my gaze with patience. Waiting for me to expand.
He knows it's harder now that I'm sober.
But I…
I can get past that.
"Will you come in my mouth?" My chest heaves with my inhale. "Please."
His pupils dilate. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Do you really want to make me repeat myself?"
He explains the layout of the balcony, the details of the photographs we're taking, the idea behind the plan.
But I absorb none of it.
My thoughts are in the gutter.
I barely notice when we step out of the limo to flashing lights. When a short man follows us into the building. Up the elevator. Onto the balcony.
We're supposed to look in love.
Maybe we do. I don't know.
I only know that I want to touch Ty.
So I get close. And I kiss him like I'll never get enough.
When he kisses back like I'm the only thing he needs, I believe it.
Maybe I don't have his heart.
But I have his body.
And that's something.
It's a lot.
It's the only thing in my head, until Ty leaves to walk the photographer out.
Then my surroundings hit me.
Fuck.
This place is gorgeous.
The restaurant is one big open room, with windows that span from the floor to the very high ceilings.
The diners can't see us. Here. Not in the semi-private booth in the corner. Not really.
