Page 212 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

When I finish, it’s pure annihilation.

She’s still pulsing around me, every muscle locked and shaking, and I hold her there until my vision clears and the city comes back into focus. We’re both a mess, sweat and need and bruises that will show up tomorrow, but I’ve never felt more fucking alive.

I’ve never felt more sure of what’s to come.

THIRTY-NINE

Willow

Imiss normal. Especially this morning.

I sit cross-legged on one of the giant couches in the Hawthorne House living room wearing fuzzy socks and one of Julian’s hoodies while Daisy snores beside me, and somehow, I still miss the sound of the diner coffee machine hissing at six a.m.

Which feels deeply unfair, considering I spent most of my time here complaining about it.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

Lara: You alive?

I snort softly.

Willow: Unfortunately, yes.

Three dots appear immediately.

Lara: Place is chaos.

Willow: Good chaos or bad chaos?

Lara: Depends how you feel about middle-aged women ordering “whatever Willow likes.”

I groan and drop my head back against the couch.

Willow: I hate everything.

Lara: No, you don’t. You’re internet famous now.

Willow: I would rather be tax audited.

Another buzz.

Lara: Reporter came in yesterday.

I sit up straighter.

Willow: What??

Lara: Relax. Tommy threw him out before I even grabbed the coffee pot.

That makes me smile a little.

Tommy Bennett has taken the role of “protective local uncle” very seriously over the last few weeks.

Willow: I miss working.

This time the typing bubble takes longer.

Lara: I know you do, honey.