“Ohhhhh,” she cries out, pressing hard against my mouth, stilling her body while her legs shake. “I’m coming. Fuuuuuck.”
When I feel the rush of fluid hit my tongue, I come all over my hand, and make a mess of my own on the floor.
32
Demi
The elevator dings, signaling we’ve made it to her floor of the hotel and we do that thing where you think the other person is letting you go first and then you pinball into each other, then proceed to repeat the cycle three more times until someone finally takes a step back and insists the other person exit first.
Yeah.Awkward.
And it’s been this way since she devoured me in the Gravity bar mid-day. I’m guessing it’s as confusing for me as it is for her.
We found Roxie and gave her Hayes’ car key, then bumped into a big ass, fully tatted bouncer that happened to come out of fucking nowhere before we left.
Now we’re here.
I don’t want it to be so awkward, and I know she doesn’t want me to leave, but I told her before we got in the car that it changes nothing. I’m going home. Now she’s the one acting like a petulant child.
We stop at her door and she frustratingly swipes her key card until the box eventually turns green and it clicks open. She turns the handle, pushing the door open just a little before looking over her shoulder and asking, “Will you come in for a minute?”
I inhale a slow breath, deep and steady. “Raegan, I–”
I’m interrupted with her hand over my mouth. “I just want to talk to you for another minute before you go. I promise I won’t keep you.”
My brows knit slightly as I exhale and nod. “Sure.”
We make our way inside and I’m surprised to see that she really doesn’t have much here.
“Where is all your stuff?” I ask.
“I didn’t bring much because I wasn’t supposed to be here this long. I’ve just been recycling clothes. I have my sister sending me some things, though.”
I want to be confused, but I’m just not. This, combined with the way she’s been talking and begging me to stay, only confirms what I’ve been suspecting. “You don’t want to go home.”
“Excuse me?” she scoffs, attempting to sound insulted, but her face and the way it’s twisting–like she’s hiding something–gives her away.
“You keep saying you want me to stay.” I cross my arms over my chest and cock a very accusatory brow. “But you don’t actually live here, Raegan. You live in Kansas City. The same place I’m going back home to. And now you’re having more stuff shipped here?”
She shuffles around the room, kicking her shoes off and shuffling random papers on the tiny desk, obviously avoiding my gaze at all cost.
“Why don’t you just go home?”
Slamming a pile of papers down, she turns to face me and yells, “I can’t go home until I sign the divorce papers. Every time I try to sign them, something happens and it gets forgotten or Hayes forgets them. I won’t go home until they’re signed.”
“Uh-huh.” We both know she’s full of shit. “So… why didn’t you sign the papers twenty years ago?”
Her eyes close and she purses her lips as she works to steady her breaths. When her eyes finally open, they’re swimming in unshed tears. I take a cautious step toward her, but she raises a hand that halts me in my tracks.
“When he left, I was so fucking angry with him. Angry and confused. I spent my days and nights trying to figure out why, after all the love we’d professed,he would do such a thing without a word.” Lowering herself onto one of the queen-sized beds, she continues. “My family spent months trying to help me out of that funk, but I’d lost the love of my life and he took a part of my heart with him when he left me. Then I got those fucking divorce papers… again, without a word. I don’t know why I didn’t sign them. Instead, I threw them away. My best guess? There was a tiny piece of me that was still holding out hope.”
Fuck. “Cue the next twenty years,” I mutter.
“Yeah. I was doing good. I’d met you and we were doing well. My practice was amazing.”
“And then?”
“Then one night, I got a call from the Chicago deeds office, requesting my signature on a land purchase for myhusband.”
