"Yes, baby. Fuck, that's perfect."
I bite my tongue to regain composure.
She leans down to press kisses along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, but her hand never stops its steady motion. I'm already embarrassingly close—the combination of going down on her and now her hand on me is pushing me rapidly toward my own orgasm.
My hips buck up into her grip. "Baby, I'm close."
"Good. I want to watch you come apart for me."
A coil of tension rolls through me, and the orgasm hits me like a freight train, my come spurts out in a high arc, again and again, then drops, spilling over her hand and my stomach, my vision briefly whiting out with the intensity of it, and dopamine rising into the base of my skull. An intense euphoric high blasts through my brain.
When I can focus again, she's looking at me with a mixture of wonder and satisfaction. I pull her down for a kiss, slow and deep, pouring years and years of neediness into it.
I know we're still pretending this is about the reunion, still hiding behind the excuse of "practice" and "planning." Hoping to fool our way through the reunion. But the way she touched me, the way she looked at me...
The only ones we're fooling here are ourselves.
===
5
ELISE
The dress looks different on me than it did on the rack. On the hanger, it was just a black dress—simple, elegant, but nothing special. On me, it fits like a second skin. The neckline dips just enough to be interesting without crossing into uncomfortable territory, and the hem falls to just above my knee, the fabric soft against my skin.
Whoever said that an LBD never misses must be heaven-sent, because I don't recognize the woman in the mirror.
"Holy shit," Jane says from behind me. "You look incredible."
"It's not too much?"
"Too much?" Jane laughs, coming to stand beside me. "Elise, it's perfect. You're gorgeous."
I fidget with my hair next. Jane slapped my hand away twice when I tried to straighten it earlier. "Leave it natural," she insisted. "It's sexier that way."
Sexy isn't usually a word I'd use to describe myself, but tonight ... maybe.
Jane squeezes my shoulder. "You're going to knock him dead."
Butterflies flutter in my belly at the mention of Elias. The memory floods back—his mouth between my thighs, my hand on him. We crossed a line that can't be uncrossed, and I have no idea what happens next.
I just really, really hope I won't get my heart broken in the process. I fully realize the risky game we're playing here. This could go horribly wrong for one or both of us. I love my horror stories, but I don't need my love life to become one.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Jane."
Jane turns me to face her. "What do you mean?"
"With Elias. This was supposed to be fake. A way to survive the reunion without looking pathetic. But now..."
"Now it doesn't feel fake anymore."
I nod, unable to articulate the tangle of feelings inside me.
"Elise, that man looks at you like you hung the moon. Trust me, I've been watching. Whatever started as fake isn't anymore for him, too. Trust your big sister, for once."
"But what if?—"
My phone vibrates on the dresser, cutting me off. I grab it, my heart jumping when I see Elias's name on the screen.
