His hand reaches between my thighs and he starts to roll his thumb in deliciously circles, making my body’s pleasure reach even higher than before.
“Come with me, Princess. Come fucking with me.”
Right when my pleasure reaches insurmountable levels and the claws of the most powerful orgasm start taking hold . . .
I wake up.
Sitting straight up with a giant jolt, I hear a thump to my right and look over to see Dee sticking her tired head up over the side of the bed. Unhappiness with a twinge of confusion mars her pretty face. Her hair is sticking up in every direction possible, and her flawless makeup from the night before is smudged under her eyes and lips. If I weren’t still feeling the effects of that dream, I might laugh. She looks absolutely ridiculous.
“Jesus Christ, Iz. A simple wake up would have sufficed, too.”
“Sorry,” I snort, earning me a new glare.
I take my eyes from the tiny ball of unhappiness on the floor and slowly look around my room, trying to figure out what feels so different. Well, besides waking up with Dee in my bed, freaking weirdo. A knock at my door has me frowning even deeper. For the life of me, I can’t seem to figure out what feels so off.
The door opens a crack and Greg pokes his head in. “Hey,” he says hesitantly, “Okay if I come in?”
And that is all it takes for it all to come rushing back in crystal clear HD Technicolor. My birthday, the package, Club Carnal, and Axel.
Dee pulls herself off the floor, rubbing her ass as she pushes past Greg on her way out the door and mumbling heated words under her breath.
“Someone woke up happy,” Greg says, walking over to the edge of my bed, taking a seat. He looks over at me, digging in for what seems to be a nice little visit. “Mornin,’ baby girl. Sleep okay?”
He looks so awkward in my girly room. His brown hair is tousled in a just-woke up way, giving him an almost boyish look to his normal hard face. He’s wearing sweats and a tight white undershirt, showing off his thick, muscled arms. He screams masculinity in my frilly room.
“Slept decent, I guess. Or at least I think I did.” I pick at some imaginary lint on my comforter, not looking up into his knowing eyes. I feel him shift, turning to his side so he is facing me. Still, I don’t look up.
“Look at me, baby girl. I need to see that you’re okay.”
I take in a big pull of air, hold it, and look up. His sleepy look is long gone and his hard controlled stare is firmly in place. A stare of which I am not used to being on the receiving end. I’ve seen him give it a million times before. It’s his look that always means business, business no matter what—a look that you do not want to cross.
Guess this means it’s game on; I was really hoping he would have just let this go. There wasn’t anything left to hash out.
“Look, G, I know you mean well, but this shit . . . This shit isn’t something I want to deal with. Not now, not later. I’m not even sure I want to ever deal with it again. What’s left to say at this point, huh? That road? It is not one I want to go down again. It’s been blocked off with detour signs for a long time now, huge fucking warning signs telling me to walk the other direction. I would be setting myself up for more pain and heartbreak and that is not something I want to do. Is it too much to ask for me to just be allowed a little happiness, some of this dark cloud to dissipate?” I don’t even give him a chance to get a word out, cutting him off before he can try and plow right over me. “We know . . . now, that you and . . . You and him are friends. Let’s just leave it. You can be friends with him and you can be friends with me. I don’t see why the two ever have to intermix. Ever.”
I can tell he is trying to talk his temper down, or maybe he is just having some convoluted one-sided argument with himself. Who knows. I don’t care at this point; there is no way I am doing this. Not when it is still cutting so fresh into my skin. I feel like I have a movie rolling in my head, over and over with the same images. Images of a past forgotten and a future lost.
“Izzy, this isn’t going to just go away. Sooner or later it will have to be dealt with.” I know he’s right, I really do, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with him. Denial is a perfectly acceptable place to pack up and move to. “He is going to be my partner now. He lives here and is staying, Iz. He isn’t going to just disappear.”
I don’t have the energy for this fight, and I know it will end up being a heavy one, a fight I will need all my wits for; going into battle with Greg is never easy.
“I get that this might not be going away, but that doesn’t mean I have to deal with it right fucking now.” I feel like punching something. Why can’t we just pretend that last night never happened? I’m the queen of fucking brushing it under the rug. That’s a game I can play with the best of them. Out of sight, out of mind.