“She wasn’t a cuddler. We were perfect for each other.” Kia gave a little snort. “That’s what she said, not what I said. Is it that hard?”
Sullivan sat down on the edge of the sofa so she wasn’tlooming over Kia.
“No it’s not. You just have to enjoy being in your body and tell the other person if your arm is falling asleep.”
Sullivan should not offer to show Kia. She knew that.
“Do you want me to show you?”
Kia’s eyelids were drooping. “Yes.”
“You’ll be the little spoon.” Sullivan lay down beside Kia in the deep sofa and wrapped an arm around her. “Now I fold my other arm like this.” She tucked her arm between them. “And you just cozy up.”
“Back that ass up?”
“That is not how I would describe it.” Sullivan chuckled. “But basically, yeah.”
Kia snuggled her back to Sullivan’s chest.
“I like the way your hair smells.” Sullivan had not just said that out loud.
“It’s a conditioner this great hairstylist in Memphis makes. I wanted to promote her, but I couldn’t because of some contract with Ma Belle products. I just want to be real, Sullivan. I want everything I do to be for real.”
Kia took Sullivan’s hand and cupped her own hands around it. The way she cradled Sullivan’s hand made Sullivan feel like Kia held her whole body.
“Am I doing this right?” Kia brushed Sullivan’s knuckles with her lips. Such a soft touch, Sullivan wasn’t sure she’d felt it.
“As long as you’re comfortable, you’re doing it right.”
“Are you comfortable?”
The way Kia’s ass pressed against her hips turned Sullivan on. If Kia woke up, said,Want to get naked and scissor on the couch?Sullivan would have pressed their bodies together until every fold of her vulva kissed every fold of Kia’s, and for the ten or twelveseconds before Sullivan came, she wouldn’t think about a single consequence. But she wanted this tender moment even more. It was all they could allow themselves, and it was as sweet as raw honey from a field of wildflowers.
“I’m very comfortable.” Sullivan felt her own sleepless night catching up with her. “I don’t think anyone has ever cuddled on a couch better than we are.”
“Are we point six percent better than everyone else?”
Leaving aside the impending heartbreak?
“We’re more than point six percent better.”
chapter 23
The following Tuesday,the last day of Sullivan’s “weekend,” she woke to a dream about Kia. In Sullivan’s dream she and Kia spun in the red and purple basket of a carnival ride. Kia swirled around Sullivan’s body like a cloud, touching every part of her, turning her on in a way that made every cell in her body sing. And Sullivan was so close to orgasm. The ride spun faster. Kia whispered,Come for me. Her words lit up the sky like calligraphic fireworks.
And Sullivan woke up.
Like she always did when she had a sex dream, her body was aroused and yet… not. Like she had a dream body that was vibrating on the excruciating edge of release while her real-world body was inert. Her real body had been asleep while her dream body lifted to the height of pleasure.
Her subconscious hated her.
Sullivan sighed, got up, and pulled on sweatpants and a sports bra. She rubbed her eyes as she descended the stairs. She needed coffee, then a cold shower.
But Kia—who was supposed to be gone by six a.m., in her food truck or touring around the city lookinggorgein her turquoise sunglasses—stood at the counter with a cutting board and ingredients before her. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and coffee.
“I like your bra,” Kia said.
“Shit. Sorry. I’ll put on a shirt.”
