It was ironic, because I wasn’t a talker during the act with anyone else.
Only her. Always her.
I dragged out and jammed in, still going slow, being careful, well, careful as could be considering.
She started coming around my fingers, I felt it, and when she let go, so did I.
With a harsh cry, I pushed her shoulder down, grabbed her hip, and started f**king in earnest, rocking in and out with great, heavy drives.
I was rough, but the rough part was quick, as I was already far gone before I’d started up the rhythm that finished me. My eyes rolled up into my head as I felt my sac filling, the great rush of my orgasm building into an eruption that shot out of me in heavy waves.
I was just starting to ejaculate when I pulled out, coming on her back, her ass, even crawling as far up as her sexy shoulder blades, watching each heaving spurt landing on her. I even painted her tattoo.
Her voice came muffled but amused. “You giving yourself a money shot back there?”
I grunted an affirmative like the caveman she liked to call me.
It took a while, but I managed to get us both upstairs, showered, and into bed.
I lay on my back, tangled with her, profoundly and irrevocably entwined. She nestled into me, and I pulled her cheek over my heart, arranging her, trapping her against me for the night.
I watched her face for a long time, until I was sure she was deeply asleep. “I love you,” I told her, voice hushed, reverent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DANIKA
I tried to make my expression less unpleasant than I felt when a decked out Mona came striding into my gallery just a few minutes before closing time the next day.
There goes my day, I thought, my face so stiff it would have cracked if I’d tried to fake a smile, which I didn’t.
Her gown was short, gold, and heavily sequined. I’d have bet good money it was one of the many dresses she wore in Tristan’s show.
She gave me a warm smile as she approached me directly.
Like we were old friends.
We were not. I nodded at her, setting my jaw, bracing myself, as she drew close.
My eyes were drawn to her enormous chest. I’d forgotten it was quite so huge. It looked extra ridiculous in her tight dress. It had a round neckline that she practically spilled out of. She had the kind of rack that should have lost at least one plastic surgeon his license, because seriously, who would agree to do that to a person? She was more than a little in danger of tipping over on the spot.
I felt sick to my stomach, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth. I really didn’t like dealing with this woman, or looking at her, or remembering that she existed.
“Danika! How are you?” Her voice was filled to brimming with what honestly sounded like genuine affection. I just couldn’t credit it.
I didn’t buy it, not for a second, but I had strong doubts that that had anything to do with her. More likely, I just didn’t like her, and I was looking for things to back up that dislike.
Things other than the fact that she’d been intimate with my own personal lifetime obsession.
“Hello, Mona,” I kept my voice civil, if nothing else. “What can I do for you?”
She beamed. “I just came to see if you wanted to go and grab a bite to eat, since your shift is ending, and mine doesn’t start for a few more hours.” Her tone was engaging and personable, as though this was the most reasonable of requests.
I didn’t hesitate. “Sorry, I have plans.”
“We can be quick. I actually wanted to talk to you about a few things, sensitive things that I’m sure you don’t want to discuss in front of your co-workers.” She glanced around, her eyes finding Kate, who was likely not even out of earshot.
It was a threat, though nothing but her words were communicating that, her tone as warm as ever.
I took a few deep breaths. It was immature, but I wanted to call Tristan and chew him out for having to deal with this. “I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” I told her, voice deceptively calm.
“Perfect! Bistro near the theatre?”
“That’s fine.”
She left, and I glared at her back.
It took me longer than ten minutes to get there, more like thirty, while I closed up I took my sweet time, because really, what was my motivation for rushing into this mess?
I honestly thought about ditching out completely, but I didn’t want her to feel she’d gotten the better of me, so I went, my mood black.
She was eating when I approached, but I didn’t order anything. I was leaving as soon as my pride would allow.
She set down the fork she’d been using to eat her salad, opened her mouth to speak, but we were interrupted by a couple that had seen her in the show the night before and wanted her autograph.
She smiled sheepishly after they’d left. “That almost never happens. Bizarre timing.”
I just nodded. “What did you want to talk about?”
She looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment.
Finally, some understandable reaction to something. Everything else about her was just so off to me.
“It’s about Tristan.”
Of course, it is, I thought.
“I’m sure you know he and I are very close. I assume he’s told you about our longstanding friendship.”
I smiled thinly. “Strangely enough, no. You haven’t come up. Though I do recall you telling me that you two were the best of friends, last time we met.”