His brows lift. “You ordered a violin?”
“I broke your old one. It’s only fair,” I mutter, pouring a generous amount of shampoo into his hair. “And I miss listening to you play. You only recorded that one track. I want new ones too.”
He smiles, eyes closing as I start working the shampoo into his hair.
“And where did you get this violin from?” The teasing in his tone makes me pause.
“An online shop,” I answer, suddenly suspicious.
“And how much was it?” he presses, eyes still closed.
About three hundred bucks, but my instincts tell me to keep that to myself.
“Dominic?”
“Hmm?”
“How much did the violin I broke cost?”
He refuses to answer, no matter how many times I ask.
40. Melt
Ghost
“Scooch over, you big furnace. You’re melting me into the mattress,” Adora’s grumpy voice wakes me. “And stop fondling my boob. It woke me up.”
It woke something else up too.
“Yeah, I can feel it,” she grumbles, sleep still thick in her voice.
Fuck, I said that out loud.
I open my eyes, my brain finally waking up with the rest of me. I’ve been too out of it these past weeks, reacting too slow, sleeping too deep. So deep Adora managed to draw a star on my cheek last week, and I felt none of it. I need to get back to myself faster. This is taking too fucking long.
I give her tit another squeeze and pull her closer, gluing myself to her. We fell into bed last night right after the shower, no clothes, barely dried off. Both exhausted as fuck.
She sighs, groans, then turns in my arms, resting her palm against my chest.
“I guess we’re waking up,” she mutters, pouting a little. “How are you feeling?”
I smile and press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Better than ever, adorable.”
Ain’t that the fucking truth. I gave Bowie too much space in my head last night. It caught me off guard, but I’m done with that shit. I left that fucker in two piles — his bones in one, and his flesh, carefully sliced, in the other. Now they’re all rotting in hell, and I’m here, holding the woman I love. I won. Adora won. That’s all that matters.
“How did your check-up go yesterday?” she asks through a small yawn.
I’m suddenly wide awake. Painfully aware of her leg thrown over mine, my throbbing cock twitching against her stomach, her nipples brushing my chest, my hand moving lazily over her back.
“I’m cleared for dirty action, adorable. Ready to report for duty.” My voice drops, the need that’s been building for so long breaking through. “Got a doctor’s note to prove it.” I only had to threaten the guy a little.
Before I know it, I’m flat on my back, Adora straddling me, her hands on my shoulders, her face inches from mine. That shouldn’t have been that easy. I need to step up my PT.
My thoughts scatter when her bare pussy brushes along the length of my cock. Fuck. I’m going to beg. I’m actually going to fucking beg. Who the hell needs dignity anyway?
“Really? You got the doctor’s note?” she murmurs, brushing her lips against mine in a barely-there tease.
I open my mouth to catch her words, fingers digging into her hips, but she pulls back, a sinful little smirk tugging at her lips. She’s in a playful mood. Judging by the speed my heart is going, I might die before she’s done playing.
