“Remember how we used to steal twenty minutes between takes just to breathe the same air? Let me give you that tonight.”
“Okay.”
When her car pulled up the drive an hour later, I met her at the door in the blue button-down she loved, with the sleeves rolled up and trying to look calm while my heart hammered. She stepped inside wearing soft leggings and one of my old hoodies she’d stolen months ago, her hair down and face scrubbed clean. She looked exhausted and beautiful, and I was so fucking relieved she agreed to come over.
Candles flickered on the dining table and along the living room shelves, and soft music was playing low—nothing over-the-top, but I’d clearly made an effort. The grilled salmon and roasted asparagus were ready to serve, and the Pinot had breathed for the perfect amount of time.
Serena took it all in, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You did all this?”
“Yeah, I told the chef not to come over today since I gave the rest of the staff the night off, so you’re stuck with my cooking.”
Her smile widened and turned more genuine. “Don’t act like you suck in the kitchen because you’ve made me enough meals for me to know your fake humility.”
I winked at her. “Darn, you caught me.”
We ate at the table overlooking the ocean. She told me about wrapping her project, how good it felt to be done, and the cookies Avery baked that afternoon to help her celebrate. I mostly just listened to whatever she wanted to share, and when she mentioned the red-carpet comments still popping up online, I reached across the table and took her hand.
“You’re probably getting tired of hearing me apologize, but I’m sorry.”
Serena heaved a deep sigh. “Aren’t you getting just as tired of needing to apologize for Maddie?”
I swallowed the instinctive defense and told her the truth I could manage. “I believe she didn’t mean to hurt you. She’s still figuring LA out. But I also know that doesn’t lessen the pain at all. And that matters more.”
She searched my face for a long moment, then nodded. “It doesn’t. Thank you for acknowledging that.”
After dinner, we moved to the couch with the ice cream. I’d bought the salted caramel, along with a few other flavors because I knew she could finally eat as much as she wanted without worrying about camera weight. When I handed her the spoon and watched her take that first big bite, her eyes closing in pure bliss, some of my tension eased.
“Good?”
She laughed softly, licking the spoon. “You bought several pints. You knew what you were doing.”
The air between us shifted. The laughter faded into something more heated. I set the carton aside and kissed her likeI’d been starving for her taste. Her hands fisted in my shirt, and a mix of relief, frustration, and need poured out of both of us.
The moment the last bite of ice cream was gone, I pulled her onto my lap on the couch. Serena straddled my thighs, her hands already sliding into my hair as our mouths met. The kiss started hungry, as though we were both trying to erase the past week with passion.
The little sound she made when I nipped her bottom lip went straight to my cock. My hands slid under the hem of her hoodie to grip her waist. “Fuck, I missed you.”
She rocked against me, her breath hitching. “Then stop talking and show me.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I tugged the hoodie over her head, tossing it somewhere behind the couch. Her bra followed a second later. When my mouth closed over her breast, she arched into me with a broken moan that made my blood run hot.
“You missed this, didn’t you? Same as I did,” I murmured, my tongue flicking over her nipple before sucking harder. “Because you’re so fucking perfect for me.”
Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling just enough to sting. “Then why does it feel like you keep choosing her over me?”
Her accusation made me more desperate. I flipped us so she was beneath me on the wide couch, shoving her leggings and panties down in one rough motion. She kicked them off, her blue eyes glittering with frustration and need.
“Because I’m an idiot sometimes,” I admitted, my voice rough as I settled between her thighs.
Her hands deftly undid the buttons of my shirt even as she agreed, “You are.”
“But I’m your idiot.” I swiveled my hips. “Only yours, I swear. It’s always you, even when you’re mad at me.”
“Then prove it,” she dared.
I slid my shirt off and undid the button on my pants, yanking down the zipper. “You’ll feel how much I love you. Need you. I swear.”
I didn’t give her time to answer. Dropping to my knees in front of the couch, I hooked her legs over my shoulders and buried my face between her thighs like a man starving. The first swipe of my tongue had her hips jerking off the cushions with a broken gasp.
