She swallows my tongue, licking me back. Sucking. My self-control strains. I dig my fingers into the wall until I feel paint chips bite into my nailbed.
I break our kiss. I have to. Our lips are wet and we’re both gasping for breath.
“You’ll come back later?” she says. “To drop off the…um…”
“Sweater.”
“Right. Sweater.”
“Yes. I promise.”
I risk another small, dangerous kiss that leaves us both shuddering. I unlatch my hands from the wall and peel myself away from her.
It’s the hardest thing I have to do, but it’s the right thing to do.
Tonight’s not the night.
“Goodnight,” I say again. Meaning it this time.
She smiles, and fuck, my heart does a full flip in my chest. “Get out of here.”
Dove goes inside and closes her door, vanishing behind it.
14
LOVE FUCKING SUCKS
Dove.Now.
My heart is racing a million miles a minute.
That kiss felt better than mostfucks. I’m spinning, light-headed, when I go back inside my apartment.
What in the name of Christmas insanity is happening?
My hand trembles when I reach for my wine glass. I knock the rest of it back in one go, hoping the wine will steady me. And maybe distract me from the wet, messy puddle I’ve made in my panties.
Straight to the naughty list this year, Dove. Nothing but coal for you.
I take in a deep breath and exhale. Now is not the time to ride the horny train. I need to be there for Ophelia, who is still heartbroken and mourning the death of her birthday.
Snap out of it. Back into friend mode.
I knock gently on Ophelia’s door and open up. “You still breathing?”
She’s underneath a pile of thick, dark comforters. She’swrapped the blankets around her like a nest, and I only know she’s alive because I hear her answer from under the blankets: “Unfortunately.”
I climb into bed with her. I get under her blanket castle and, wordlessly, we wrap around each other. She’s sweaty and slick butI don’t care. She’s my best friend. The other half of my heart. And right now, hers is breaking.
She rests her head on my chest. “You were right,” she says. “Love fucking sucks.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “it’s a real bitch.”
Slowly, Ophelia’s breathing changes to a slow, quiet rumble. I stare at the ceiling, still tasting Dorian on my lips, and my heart flutters around like a million pillow-freed feathers dancing in my chest.
15
ANOTHER LIFE
