Page 63 of Sparks Fly

Her name on my lips as I came. Hard.

When it finally eased, I lay there, chest rising too fast, skin warm and damp, my fingers going still where they were as the feeling faded in slow, uneven pulses.

I swallowed, my lips parting on a quiet exhale, my heart still racing like it hadn’t caught up yet.

For a long second afterward, I couldn’t move. I lay there with my chest heaving, my skin flushed, one hand pressed to my stomach like I needed the reminder that I was still here. Still me.

I hated and loved that it wasn’t just sex. It was how easily she lived in my head. How my body answered her without hesitation. How being wanted by her had unlocked something I hadn’t let myself want in years.

Before I could lose my nerve, I reached for my phone and opened our messages.

Me: I just touched myself while thinking about you…

Me: Thought you might like to know.

My phone rang almost immediately.

Not a text. A call.

I answered with a smile. “Hi.”

“Jesus, baby,” Sawyer breathed. “You can’t just say things like that.”

I could tell she was flustered and I liked it. “I can, and I did.”

“You’re so fucking sexy, Addison.”

Heat rushed through me all over again.

“Was it good?” she asked.

“So good.” I sank deeper into the pillows. “I was already so wet and worked up from you. Shirtless in my bed. I had to.”

“And you had to tell me?”

“Well, yeah.” I smiled, feeling bolder by the second. “Now you can touch yourself and think about it.”

“Addison.”

“Sweet dreams, babe.”

“Addison,” she said again, sounding almost pained.

“Good night, Sawyer.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Good night.”

* * *

21

Addison

Thursday and Friday hit like a shove. Showings stacked. Clients calling. Emails multiplying while I was still answering the last batch. I ate standing up and drank coffee that went cold on my desk because I forgot it existed.

I hated how little time I had for Sawyer. I noticed every gap, every empty hour where I wanted her voice and got a subject line instead.

Still, I found pockets. Little oxygen breaks where I’d fire off a message between conference calls or while waiting on a client who was inevitably late. Nothing deep, nothing heavy, just small threads of connection. Updates. Inside jokes we were starting to have. Flirty messages that made my mouth curve even when my brain was fried.