He hauled me up, kissed me passionately, and tasted himself on my lips and tongue. He rested his forehead against mine, breathing ragged.
“Goddamn, Lila,” he said hoarsely. “I need a minute.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, legs trembling. “Come to bed with me.”
He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead.
“We have to stop fighting this.”
His gaze became hooded, and a small smirk covered his lips. “Okay, baby.”
My body was buzzing, mouth still tasting him, pussy aching and empty as he headed to his room.
“Not tonight, though. Tonight, I just want to hold you. Is that okay?”
The tease, control, and the forbidden promise were almost as good as having him inside me. “More than okay.”
And it was… for tonight.
Chapter Seven
Lila
The lunch with Mom was my idea.
I’d been putting it off for weeks because every time I thought about seeing her, guilt and anger twisted in my gut like a knife.
But avoidance only made it worse, so I texted her on a Wednesday morning.
Me: Lunch tomorrow? Just us. Coffee shop on High Corner Street?
She replied within minutes.
Mom: I’d love that. Noon?
I arrived early, nerves buzzing under my skin. The café was small with exposed brick, mismatched chairs, and the smell of fresh espresso and cinnamon rolls lingering in the air.
I claimed a corner table by the window, ordered a latte I didn’t really want, and watched the door.
She looked a lot different than I remembered, and hell, that had only been a couple of months ago. We talked regularly, but actually seeing her while I finished my courses had become rare. Now that I was done with school, I’d remedy that.
Her hair was shorter, blonder, and her soft green sweater made her eyes look brighter. She spotted me immediately, a smile spreading wide and genuine.
“Lila, sweetie.” She hugged me tight, smelling like the same floral perfume she’d worn since I was little. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” I said, hugging back. It wasn’t a lie. I had missed her. Just not the complicated knot of feelings that came with seeing her now.
We ordered right away, her getting an avocado toast and a turkey club for me. We settled into the kind of small talk that felt safe. My new job starting soon, her new apartment at the far end of town with her partner David, and the garden she was trying to keep alive on a balcony. She talked about David the way she used to talk about Marcus years ago, with that same easy warmth and all those little details that made her glow. It stung more than I expected.
After the plates arrived, the conversation slowed.
She sipped her coffee, studying me over the rim.
“How’s the house?” she asked carefully. “Packing going okay?”
“Yeah. Slow but okay.” I poked at my sandwich. “Marcus is… working a lot. Long hours. We’re getting it done.”
She nodded, eyes softening. “He always was a hard worker. Too hard, sometimes.” A pause. “How is he? Really?”
