Chapter 20 Aurora #2
It might be my imagination, but I swear her pupils widen as she leans even closer. There might also be a slight flush coloring her cheeks, a deeper red than the shimmering pink blush she uses. I fist my hands in my lap and turn toward her a little more, until our thighs barely touch.
“Sex feels good—really good—if you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing. If that person cares about your pleasure as much as they care about their own.”
The back of my neck prickles with sweat, and I fist my hands tighter in my lap. She’s said next to nothing, but I can already feel my heartbeat pulsing between my thighs. Suddenly, my clothes feel too tight, and the air feels too thick.
I shouldn’t ask any questions. I shouldn’t continue this conversation, I know I shouldn’t, but I want her to keep talking—something inside me needs it—so I do it anyway. I exhale slowly, releasing my words with it.
“What do you mean?”
Her plump pink lips curl into that smirk that does strange things to my insides, and when she speaks next, her voice is a purr, so sensual and sexy that chills dance over my heated skin.
“A good partner wants you to feel good, Aurora. They take the time to learn your body. Pay attention to your reactions so they know what you like. So they know how to make you come.”
“Wh-what kind of reactions?”
“All kinds.” She scans my face with those amber gems, bouncing between my eyes and my mouth, then to my rapidly rising and falling chest. “There are physical signs. You pupils dilate. Your breathing accelerates. Your skin erupts in goose bumps. Bodies talk, Roar. A good partner listens.”
Oh God.
My nipples pebble against the fabric of my bra. The spot between my thighs grows damp. My muscles ache, and I wonder if she knows. Can she tell? Is my body talking to her right now?
My throat tightens, and I have to swallow twice before I can get words out.
“Are you a good partner?”
Her grin is positively wicked, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she nods slowly.
“I’m a very good partner, Aurora, because I’m a very good listener, and I won’t stop until I’m certain I’ve wrung every last ounce of pleasure from your body.”
My breath hitches. “Me?”
She shrugs slowly. “If I were the one in your bed.”
I picture it. I don’t even have to try. The image is immediate and as crisp as a movie scene. She and I, tangled in bedsheets. Touching. Kissing.
Our moment at the club flashes once more in my head, and I relive all of it. Her lips. Her tongue. Her hands. Her body. The way she tasted. The way she smelled. The way she made me feel.
I want it all over again, and the pull between us is so strong that I almost close the distance. I almost kiss her for a second time, but when I lean a fraction of a centimeter forward, my weight shifts on the mattress, and suddenly, I become very aware of where I am.
I’m in a bedroom—on a bed—with Mabel Rossi.
Mabel Rossi, who just told me in no uncertain terms that she’s a sex goddess who could make me orgasm until I black out.
I would let her, and I would enjoy it.
Terror seizes my chest, and I shoot to my feet.
“You, um, you can take this room. I’ll, uh, I’ll be down the street. Or the house. The hall. I mean the hall. I’ll be down the hall. Okay, uh, thanks. Bye.”
I’m out of the room before I even finish talking, and I swear I hear her chuckle as I pull the door closed behind me. I don’t breathe until I’m opening another door and tucking myself safely inside the next bedroom. I close my eyes, lean my forehead on the door and shakily fill my lungs with air.
“Oh my God, calm down. Just calm down.”
“Name three things you can hear.”
I jump and spin around, seconds from releasing a terrified scream, but I swallow it back when I find Ezra Hawke splayed across the made bed.
“Ezra,” I gasp out, my palm pressed to my chest, and he grins.
“There’s one thing. Now do two more.”
I shake my head. “What are you doing in here?”
“Hendrix kicked me out of the primary bedroom.”
Every room in this house that I’ve seen has had an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in closet, so I’m not sure what he thinks makes the primary bedroom, but I don’t bother asking.
“You’re supposed to be in the pool house.”
“No shit? Is that where my band is?”
“Probably?”
He hops up and struts toward me. “Looks like you can have this one then, Lil Ham.”
I groan. “Please do not call me that.”
Ezra winks, ruffles my hair the same way Rocky did to Brynnlee earlier, and disappears back into the hallway without another word.
I wait thirty seconds and listen closely for any sound coming from the hallway and the bedroom. When I’m met with silence, I walk slowly to the bed, faceplant right onto the mattress, and let out a muffled, near-silent scream.
“I’m married,” I say into the plush comforter. “I’m married. I don’t love my husband and I’m pretty sure he secretly hates me, but I’m still married.”
I keep repeating the word—married, married, married—but Mabel’s voice is still louder in my mind.
I’m a very good partner.
I’m a very good listener.
I wouldn’t stop.
If I were the one in your bed.
I groan and flop over onto my back so I can stare at the white ceiling.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. None of it means anything. She was speaking hypothetically. Empty words to prove a point.
“It means nothing.”
I say the words out loud, willing them to calm my racing heart and cool my heated blood, but the moment they reach in my ears, I know I’m screwed. Even I can hear the blatant lie in my voice. Even I can tell I’m full of crap.
I might be feeling something for Mabel Rossi, and it definitely doesn’t mean nothing.