“She stops by sometimes.” Rose picks up her box and sets it on the checkout counter. “Mother does too, but I think she just likes the attention from paparazzi.”
I frown. “She does?” I haven’t noticed all that much. But maybe that’s because I purposefully don’t make eye contact with our mom.
“She doesn’t want it to go away,” Rose says. “She’s even been feeding stories to the media so we’ll stay relevant.”
My lips part. “What?”
Rose sighs. “I’m not sure what she tells them. She definitely leaks where she’s eating lunch during the day so they can take photos. She says the attention is good for Fizzle, but really she likes the status. She has way too many fake friends fawning over her now.”
I realize that we may never distance ourselves from the spotlight, not if our mom purposefully brings us back in. All for the “good” of the family. The weight sinks low and I let it settle there.
“I missed a lot then,” I say softly.
She gives me a sharp look like don’t think about it too much. And to distract me further, she says, “Maria is in the Nutcracker this December. The entire family is going in support.”
“I’ll be there.” I pick up the hint. “Umm…” I scan the half-decorated store. “Do you need any help here?”
“I have it under control,” she says quickly, almost like a reflex. She spins back on her heels, and as I turn to leave, she pauses. “Wait.”
I glance back.
“I’m starving.” She grabs her keys off the counter and her clutch. “Let’s go eat lunch.”
I smile softly, kind of loving that it wasn’t a question. It’s more like Rose to demand your company than to ask for it. “Okay.”
The knots in my stomach slowly begin to untangle.
{ 40 }
1 year : 04 months December
LILY CALLOWAY
Our limo driver slams on the brake for the third time, and I fall backwards on the leather seat, laughing so much that my chest hurts. Lo breathes heavily, his hand gripping the seat above me, and as he stares down, he shakes his head. But his own smile envelops his face and dimples his cheeks.
“You think he’s doing it on purpose?” he asks, his amber eyes flitting down my body, creating hot trails.
“He’d be a grade-A cock-blocker,” I say.
“Well, I refuse to be cock-blocked tonight.” The headiness, the desire in his gaze sweeps me into a bigger, better ride than the swerving limo ever could. “You ready?”
As he says the words, the car careens forward once more, and he nearly slides off the back seat. He grips my shoulder, his body pressed against mine, and fixes a sturdy hand to the door above my head.
I laugh more, especially as he nuzzles his forehead in the crook of my neck and lets out a long, agonizing groan.
I love that he’s hornier than me.
I love that I can laugh during sex.
But mostly, I love that being tangled together in the backseat of a car is no longer wrong. It won’t turn me into a compulsive monster anymore. It’s a level of control that I never thought I’d reach.
Yet, here it is.
I’m starting to feel normal. Or at least, our kind of normal.
Lo’s groans turn into kisses on my neck, ones that soak my underwear and rouse so many sensitive places. My laughter burns out, replaced by deep breaths.
He rolls my velvet black dress up to my belly and hooks his finger in my panties, pulling them aside. When his lips reach mine, he fills me, his hardness slowly lighting up every single nerve. My chin rises with a silent gasp.
And then he kisses me deeply, in immeasurable increments that weld our bodies together. Like they were made to never break apart.
The car whips left like the driver missed the turn, but Lo has braced himself to me. And he uses the momentum to drive deeper between my thighs, my body electrifying. I let out a ragged moan. Everything clenches, my legs tremble, and he just holds me tightly, creating a fullness inside me that didn’t exist before.
I can feel Lo’s smile on my lips. I return the kiss, trying to wipe away his grin, making it a goal. He cups the back of my head, and the more aggressive I become and swell his lips, the harder his cock pounds into me.
When I come for the second time, it’s short, sporadic, and leaves me utterly breathless.
Lo laughs between his heavy groans, still rocking against me, building his own climax and rousing a new one for me. “You would be an awful lay if you were a guy,” he explains the source of his humor.