I hadn’t gotten a single text or email since being with my parents. A few had come through including a call I sent straight to voicemail while I was in Blackstone Falls, but I hadn’t bothered sending them to Royce.
There was nothing new in them, just vague comments and an old picture from before Nessa left Nashville. Maybe Scott was bored, or maybe he’d finally grown up and moved on.
I’d take either at this point.
My phone vibrates, one eye popping open then the other when Royce’s name appears on the screen.
Thank God.
ROYCE: I realized I hate the snow. Chicago winters can suck it.
KINSLEY: That’s a rather amusing visual
ROYCE: Is it? Because now all I can think about is you
KINSLEY: Me doing what?
I settle backon the bed and grin as three little dots appear and then disappear.I hate that I miss him.
And more than that, I hate the easiness that we had. But maybe…
ROYCE: You sucking my cock
KINSLEY: I like how loud you get
ROYCE: I can’t help it
KINSLEY: You know what I think would be fun?
ROYCE: Tell me
KINSLEY: If you were playing one of your games
KINSLEY: While your cock was in my mouth
KINSLEY: And you had to keep quiet while also trying not to die
ROYCE: Yes
ROYCE: A thousand times yes
KINSLEY: I’ll get home tomorrow
ROYCE: I’ll be at your door the second you do
KINSLEY: Is that right?
ROYCE: You have no idea
17
ROYCE
KINSLEY: I’m home
I’ve barely opened the message before stuffing my feet into my shoes and racing out of my apartment. My body aches to hold her and touch her—to feel her lose control for me.
I knock, my eagerness emphasized with every tap.
