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I was working.
There was a pause.
I’m waiting, Shiloh. Try it.
I reached for the plate and picked up what was basically two fat, soft cookies with cream in the middle. Opening my mouth, I took a bite. It was the most unique flavor I’d ever tasted. It was almost as if I could taste the lavender, but I wouldn’t have expected it to be this delicious. I’d expected it to taste like the vanilla-bean smell, but it was the cream that was vanilla.
I picked my phone up.
This is incredible.
The dots that he started typing popped up, then just as quickly went away. I took another bite as I waited. This time, I let out a little groan. I couldn’t think of one thing I’d ever tasted that compared to this.
Good.
That was all he had sent. Nothing more. Disappointed, I thought about not responding, but felt like he at least deserved a thank-you.
Thank you.
A moment later:
You’re welcome.
Then, nothing.
Eighteen
Shiloh
This was the second night I’d given Wilder an excuse for not going to get dinner with him. Part of me felt guilty. Wilder was my friend, and ignoring him because Gage might or might not text me tonight was crappy of me.
However, the night after the lavender whoopie pies, he’d texted me, asking about my day. Then he had watched the episode ofGilmore GirlsI was watching while making fun of what was happening. The only time he’d gone quiet was during the sex scene.
Last night, he’d texted, asking me what I was eating for dinner. We had gone back and forth, covering everything from the basketball game that he was watching in the living room with Levi to Doreen wrapping up his cast so he could shower himself. He could go downstairs now and get around on his own more.
My thoughts seemed to get stuck on him throughout the day, and as confusing as this man was, I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself from texting with him. When I had been around him, he’d seemed to hate me, but now that we never saw each other, he texted me daily. I wondered if there was a female alive who could ignore this man.
After eating a sandwich, my last whoopie pie, and watching two episodes ofGossip Girl, I had to accept the fact that Gage wasn’t texting me tonight. The disappointment that came with that sank in my chest like a brick. I hated this feeling, and the more I texted with him, the more power over my emotions he seemed to gain.
Opening a bottle of pinot noir, I poured a glass and went to run myself a bubble bath. Perhaps some hot water, wine, and music could ease this uncomfortable ache. I had only myself to blame for this. The man had kicked me out of his house, and I still continued to respond to him when he texted. Not because I was scared either. I did it because I wanted to. It was almost as if I physically could not ignore him. No matter how badly he humiliated me.
Taking off my clothes, I stepped into the bath and sank down into the bubbles. Just as I was getting comfortable, my phone dinged, and I sat up, dried off my hands, and picked it up while that stupid flutter of giddiness replaced the heaviness that had been there.
It no longer hurts to jerk off.
I read that three times and squirmed in the tub. Okay, he was going to talk about this. I should ignore him. Put the phone down and act like I hadn’t read that. If I were smart, I wouldn’t let myself interact with him. Especially not about anything sexual. I was an idiot though.
I texted him back:
I hope you got some relief then.
No more, Shiloh. Leave it at that. Be smart.
More than once.
I felt my nipples harden.Ugh, Gage Presley, why?!I was weak.
And you are telling me this … why?
