But your hands feel so good on my skin.
But I love kneeling for you.
But that low, throaty longing in your tone is like a drug.
I croak out, “…the laundry.”
“Leave it.” His voice is taut as a violin string. “Downstairs. Now.”
The command snaps me out of it. He removes his touch and I pull myself up to my feet. I look at the laundry. The floor. Anything but those eyes. If I know that he wants this, just as badly as I do…I won’t be able to walk away.
I leave the pile of sheets and towels by his feet and, heart pattering in my chest, head downstairs. My legs are moving so quickly, they break right through the paper chain—a flimsy barrier.
It was never going to keep us out. Not really.
31
Ophelia.Now.
It rains for days.
Aleena and the kids are safely at our parents’ house. Cisco was apparently picked up by the cops and he’s been detained since—good riddance.
Which means: I’m back in the comfort of my own apartment, alone with my thoughts, trying to make sense of the past couple of days.
I watch the rain patter down through the patchy curtains in my bedroom.
The rain makes me cozy. Sleepy.
Horny.
My phone buzzes. It’s Dove.
[Text: Dove]
It’s raining too hard to come home.
[Text: Dove]
Staying at Dorian’s tonight.
[Text: Dove]
Pray for me.
She doesn’t meanpray for mebecause Dorian is going to do wonderfully unspeakable things to her. She meanspray for mebecause Dorian’s cat hates her. Despite the fact that he has an objectively nicer apartment and he lives alone, she’s only stayed over at his place a handful of times. The cat is wildly possessive of Dorian. The last time she stayed over, Behemoth threw up on her pillow just to get her out the door.
[Text: Ophelia]
Have you tried catnip?
[Text: Dove]
It just makes Dorian sneeze :/
[Text: Ophelia]
FOR THE CAT.
