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My womb throbs, pulses, straining with need. She wants it now. My insides sizzle.
Fuck.
I have to calm myself down.
“Yes,” I say, staring at the ceiling, not letting my mind wander to naughty places. “I mean – no. I haven’t. I can’t rehearse for this one and write at the same time.”
She groans, and I can hear her smiling. “Yes, you can. What else are you going to do during the storm, huh?”
An answering smile spreads across my face, making my cheeks ache as the emotion spirals through me.
But then pain crushes my features and pulls my lips into a frown, my eyebrows heavy, everything threatening to crumble as I hold back tears. I should scream and tell her, tell her what we did.
But are we going to do something again?
Will Roman want to now? Will I want to?
“I know. You’re right, Millie.”
“Anyway, I’ll let you go. I know it’s late. But speak soon, yeah?”
“Of course.”
My mouth is dry, my lips cracked. The lying causing shudders to move through me, invasive and effective as they burn.
I kissed your dad. Your dad did things to me. I want him forever.
Screaming the words silently within my mind does little to relieve the desire, the guilt.
“Of course?” She giggles. “So formal? See you later.”
“See you, Millie. Later.”
She hangs up and I hold the cell phone to my chest, against my heart, so I can feel the reverberations moving up my arm and back into my body. And that’s what it is, I realize, the need warring with the guilt, a beat drumming through me. It’s Millie and Roman, the man I never knew I needed, not until I set eyes on him.
And now my world is aflame.
Chapter Twelve
Roman
Tanker has calmed down a little, padding softly across the bed and sniffing around, his tail perked and wagging. He sometimes cringes when the thunder sounds and the lightning cracks, but he doesn’t whine or whimper. He looks at me every so often with his ears perked, as though asking me a question.
I nod. “You’re doing well, boy. Keeping us safe.”
I’m convinced that’s what he’s doing as he sniffs around the bedroom, hopping off the bed and patrolling the room. He thinks he’s warding away the storm, setting boundaries across which it cannot venture… boundaries that will keep out the chaos, lightning, and the pain.
Boundaries like I should’ve had with Rayla, with that brown-haired angel, those curves, and that tight young virgin slit…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I howl in my mind as lightning burst iron-blue into the room, casting long shadows on the walls, tall and impressive. Tanker looks at his shadow, head cocked like he’s wondering where this giant black dog came from. But then it passes and he whines, hopping up into my lap.
Catching him, I hold him to my chest, looking into his face. His eyes have got that trying-to-be-brave look.
“Do you think I’ve made a mess, boy?” I scratch the back of his neck. “What the fuck am I doing? I came here to write, not to…”
I can’t say the words aloud. It’s like there’s a block in my throat, the revelation too messy and big.
I kissed my daughter best friend’s. I made her cream.
And I want to do it again.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been in here, sitting in the dark, but it must be a while because when I look up I see Rayla in the doorway. She stands there framed in semidarkness, with just enough light for me to see her. She’s changed into a hoodie and jeans, but it does nothing to hide her gorgeous shape.
Her breasts make the hoodie tight across her chest like the luscious round tits are begging to be caressed and used hard. And the jeans cling tightly onto her hips, outlining that gorgeous voluptuousness. She’s got a spank-me look about her, like any second I could bend that fine ass over and make it work.
Luckily Tanker’s in my arms, stopping me from acting on my carnal desires. He wriggles and springs down, padding over to Rayla. I watch him go, trying to focus on him rather than Rayla.
Looking at her too long is like taking a bet I know I’m going to lose. I tell myself not to eye-fuck her ruthlessly, savagely appraise every inch of her when just a glance makes me so hard. I tell myself I’m not going to imagine bending her over and forcing my cock right into her pink hole, grabbing her shoulders and pushing tighter as she gasps at how fierce and sudden it is.
Creaming, shivering, gushing wetness down my length until I’m slipping in and out of her at animal speed.
I take a breath, forcing away the image. I lost the bet. Again. I can’t stop my possessive mind.
She kneels and runs her hands over Tanker’s fur.
“That was Millie,” she says.
