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My hand pauses. “Why?”
She shrugs. “In case we go to any more events together and we need to perform for another ex. You know mine, and I know your ex-fiancée. Also, I’m just curious when it comes to you.”
I let my thumb sweep higher. Touching her feels like an intoxicating privilege. “Beverly doesn’t go to many benefits.”
Sophia sighs. “Shoot. Then I guess I won’t have to kiss you dramatically in public again.”
“Mhm,” I say, “but youcan,if you’d like to.”
“You did tell me you’d never object to me kissing you.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“It was very comforting at the time.”
“It was the truth, too,” I say. “I think I still mean it, but maybe you should try, just to be sure.”
Sophia shifts closer on the couch. “Should I?”
“Yes.” My hand slides beneath the silk of her skirt. “Thanks for coming by at nine p.m. on a Wednesday.”
“Thanks for letting me invade your space.”
“You’re making it much better by being here.”
She settles on either side of my lap and I take her in my arms, the weight and feel of her becoming deliciously familiar.
“Let me try, then,” she murmurs and rests a hand on my jaw.
I let her kiss me. I even go so far as kissing her back, my hands tightening on her hips, just to show how much I don’t object.
She cocks her head, the mahogany of her hair sliding to one side. “You don’t seem offended.”
“I don’t think I feel it, either.”
“Good thing you weren’t the first time, or I would have lost you as a client.”
I chuckle. “Sweetheart, it would take a great deal more for me to quit the Exciteur deal.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’re far too good at your job.” I glance down, at where I’m slowly raising her skirt. Her smooth thighs on either side of me are like an anchor, and yet it’s one that grounds me rather than weighing me down.
I kiss her again. The rhythm of it is becoming familiar, and the familiarity itself is arousing. The knowledge of what she likes, how she moans when I deepen the kiss, how she grips my hair tight at the back of my head. Intimacy grows with repetition, not lessens, and I’m learning the shape of ours.
I shift us, spreading her out beneath me on the couch. A lonely throw pillow tumbles to the ground. Time fades and slips away, reality disappearing around me. She notches a leg at my hip. I look down, watching my own hand push her skirt up past her hips.
“Oh,” Sophia says. “I forget to mention, I have to show you something. I just received prototypes for the Winter coffee table book I mentioned!”
I rest my head against the pillow next to hers. “Jesus.”
She laughs. “Sorry. But I really think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, “but if you’re thinking about work right now, I’m definitely doing something wrong.”
Her laughter is warmer this time, two arms wrapping around my back. “Maybe I just want to impress you.”
“You already do,” I say, “and besides, there are other ways.”
