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“No more games,” she said, hating that she’d been the one to wave the white flag.
Reagan nodded enthusiastically before easing herself back on top the tarp and bringing Libby with her. Instead of settling in next to her, Reagan slid down, and in the same moment parted Libby’s thighs like she was a mechanic rolling under a car.
Unsure what to do, Libby lingered awkwardly on all fours until Reagan’s tongue slipped inside her. She shot up, resting on just her knees as she reflexively sought more contact with Reagan’s mouth.
Grinding against her inexorable tongue as Reagan wrapped her arms around her thighs, Libby was already close. The anticipation had been building too long.
For the first time in her life, Libby was trying so hard not to have an orgasm. She’d always had the opposite problem.
Her progress was broken when Reagan moaned into her as her ministrations fell out of rhythm.
Glancing back, Libby noticed why. Beneath her underwear, Reagan’s fingers were moving furiously. The sight alone nearly sent Libby unraveling, but with a painful, white-knuckled grip, she kept herself o the edge.
“Let me,” she demanded in a deep hoarse voice she barely recognized.
Reagan stopped at her command.
“Take them o .”
Reagan complied and with her knees bent, held herself open for her. It was over for both of them. Once Libby reached back and felt that Reagan was dripping with desire, her thighs trembled until her entire body was shaking with unstoppable force.
With the heel of her palm pressing down in time with Reagan’s grinding, Libby slipped the tips of her fingers inside Reagan. She’d lasted only seconds after that, which was at least one second longer than Reagan. She took it as a win before she collapsed at her side.
LISTENING TO REAGAN BREATHE SO DEEPLY AS SHE SLEPT WAS
calming, but it couldn’t keep Libby calm. Her conscience
simply would not let her sleep. Slipping out from under the covers, she threw on a t-shirt she found on the floor and crept downstairs.
The studio was an even bigger mess than she remembered, but she put on blinders as she tip-toed to the dragon. Running her fingers over the tongue hanging out of its open mouth, she marveled at just how delicate it was.
Wispy whiskers were so long and thin it was a miracle they didn’t snap o . Libby removed her hand just in case.
A heart created by two women bending backward was her second favorite. She didn’t dare touch the fragile, white porcelain statuette and hoped she could find a way to keep it safe as she displayed it. Taylor hadn’t confirmed, but she was sure her trusty assistant had gotten her what she wanted. These pieces weren’t going to anyone but her.
When she was done examining the art, Libby grabbed a piece of tarp and sat under the dragon’s head. Looking at the phone she’d brought with her, she realized that subconsciously she wanted to be surrounded by Reagan’s love when she did what she had to do.
Reading the confession she’d penned what seemed like years ago, Libby couldn’t help the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was the most honest, unpolished, and visceral thing she’d ever written. Her chest ached. Bringing the shirt collar to her nose, Libby found comfort in the scent of Reagan’s perfume made unique by her body chemistry.
If she lost her legacy, could she lose Reagan too? Libby pushed the thought aside. Fear of losing her business was how she’d made the poor choices she’d made.
When she’d chosen to hire a fake girlfriend, Libby never imagined how much heartache it would cause others. It made Reagan’s friends think she’d been keeping a secret from them, and worse, that she’d been hiding her identity at Libby’s behest. The idea made her stomach churn until it
tied itself in knots. Libby’s family, and probably Reagan’s too, had been wounded by the alleged secrets. But they weren’t secrets. They were lies. So many lies.
She never counted on how many lies she’d have to tell.
Each one was a hydra sprouting an infinite number of heads until it threatened to devour her whole. It had to stop no matter the cost.
Libby’s thumb hovered over the publish button. Am I being shortsighted and selfish again?
The thought of coming clean to the world without giving her loved ones the heads up was too similar to the hasty act that started her predicament.
Tomorrow. I’ll dismantle my life tomorrow.
C H A P T E R 3 5
“GOOD MORNING,” Reagan whispered against the shell of her ear as she snuggled her sweaty body against her.
