Trace isn’t a mistake.
He’ll never be a mistake.
I’ll cherish my time with him.
Falling for him, loving him so much, will help me the next time I fall and go through another broken heart.
Except, there’s no other guy I want to be with but Trace.
“Hey, doing okay?” The concern in his voice yanks me out of my depressing thoughts.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Phoebe’s theory.”
“Theory? You saw the picture, Sorrow. You two could be twins.”
“We all have doppelgängers.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to know for sure?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” A girl with dark hair approaches me. She has a tablet in her hand. “I have to go. Ember’s here.”
“See you at six-thirty?”
He’s picking me up at the end of my shift. “Are we going out for dinner or staying in?”
“Staying. I have something in the crock pot.”
It’s amazing how great a cook Trace is. I wouldn’t have thought it with as much food as he had delivered before our experiment.
“Thanks, Trace.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me. The temperature, all the delicious foods, your, um, your company.”
His eyes darken. “More of the same tonight?”
He’s being respectful. He knows Ember is close. More of the same is his hands all over my body. He promised that his mouth would be next. My face heats. If he can bring me to orgasm with his fingers stroking my swollen nub through my underwear, he can make me come with his mouth on my clit through my underwear, right? Or will I strip off my bottoms and let him press his face to my pussy and lick up my slit and suck on my clit like the heroes do to my heroines?
Jesus, it’s all I’ll be thinking about until he picks me up.
“Yes,” I say, out of breath with hot need. “More of the same.”
“Good. That’s good. See you in four hours, Sweet Sorrow.”
23
Trace
“Dinner was delicious. Butternut squash mac and cheese. So good.” My little bird’s voice trembles with need and nervousness.
I skim my finger down the side of her face. “We can stick with the original plan, Sorrow.” Me tasting her pussy through her underwear. “The ending will be the same, you coming hard on my face.”
Her face a pretty pink, she shakes her head from side to side. Her onyx strands fan across her pillow. “You said I’m in control. Being in control means I call the shots. I want your face here, Trace.” She drags her fingers over her slit. I glance between our bodies. My erection is a thick, long outline beneath my gray sweatpants. Sorrow is laid out for me, her legs spread to the sides and her knees slightly bent.
