Chapter Twenty
DELANEY
My phone lit up, and a grin stretched across my face—huge and goofy and absolutely mortifying. It was probably a good thing I lived alone. I popped a coffee pod into my coffeemaker, forcing myself to wait a whole three seconds before I checked the screen.
I already knew who it was.
MARC
Good morning
DELANEY
Morning
MARC
Checking in. Wanting to make sure you’re okay.
DELANEY
I had four orgasms last night. I think I’m better than okay.
MARC
Are you aware you say my name differently when I kiss that spot on your neck?
My breath caught.
MARC
I can still taste you on my tongue.
Holy shit.
Heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly I was back in his bed, his hands everywhere, letting him absolutely ruin me for any other man. Two sentences. The man had destroyed my higher brain function with only two sentences.
I stared at the screen, trying to form a response. Nothing came out. Not one single word. Not one syllable.
MARC
Is someone getting shy?
DELANEY
Or so turned on my brain short-circuited.
MARC
When you come over again, spend the whole night.
DELANEY
If I come over again will I get to fuck you?
MARC
That depends on whether you’re going to be a good girl for me.
MARC
Next time I’m going to take my time with you.
I made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a laugh and then slapped my free hand over my mouth.
The door to my apartment slammed open.
I shrieked. And threw my phone at the intruder. It skidded two feet across the floor and landed face up, screen still glowing.
Adele stood in the doorway, auburn hair perfect, coffee-less, chin up, shoulders squared, her eyes searching the apartment, already collecting data.
She took in my oversized T-shirt, my wild hair, and the phone on the floor, and her eyes went wide. “Tell. Me. Everything.”
“What the actual fuck? You can’t just break into my apartment.”
She picked up my phone, stormed into my kitchen, grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet, and pointed dramatically at the door. “You gave me a key.”
“For emergencies!”
“This is an emergency!”
I narrowed my eyes. “You think my date qualifies as a crisis?”
She pointed my phone at me. “Exhibit A. It is when I don’t hear from you until … Oh wait. I didn’t.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” I grumbled.
Adele raised an eyebrow. “You had dinner with the guy you’ve been hate-flirting with for years. You and I both know the Ruby River gossip chain has been salivating over the two of you since forever.”
“They have not.”
She raised an eyebrow. “How do you think I know you didn’t get home until after midnight?”
“I—uh—” My gaze quickly surveyed the walls of the apartment. “Do you have cameras in here?”
“Mrs. Crawford posted on the town’s social media page.”
Mrs. Crawford was a busybody. She walked her dog, Susu, at all hours, just so she could spy on people. “She did not.”
“There’s a blurry pic of you getting out of your car when you got home. Cute outfit BTW. I’m glad you went with that sweater.”
“This town is unhinged.” I pulled my mug out from under the coffeemaker and held out my hand for hers. She surrendered it without breaking eye contact, which was somehow more unsettling.
My phone lit up again.
Adele’s eyes dropped to the screen. She read the preview. Her jaw went slack.
It lit up again.
She stared at the screen. Then at me. Then back at the phone. The squeal she let out rattled my cabinet doors. “Holy shit, he’s sexting you! Marc Kingsley is a dirty talker?!?”
I lunged.
Too late. She had it above her head like she was protecting a signed hardcover special edition from a flood.
“Give it back.”
“Absolutely not. You violated clause number four-twenty-two of our friendship agreement: A best friend must be contacted the second a date ends. At this rate, you’re going to be facing severe friendship penalty fees.”
“Isn’t clause four-twenty-two if you pick up a yummy dessert from The Sweet Spot you have to buy two and share?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Not the point. You’re trying to distract me.”
I giggled. Full-on giggled.
“You giggled.” Adele’s mouth snapped shut. “Did he replace you with a pod-person?”
My phone buzzed again. This time Adele typed in my password.
“Hey,” I protested as she scrolled through my morning texts, immediately regretting ever giving her my code.
Her jaw dropped. “OMG! This is just you after being sexed up.”
“Give me the phone!”
“Not until you answer my questions!”
“This is blackmail.”
“This is being a good friend.”
I groaned.
The phone went off again.
This time when I grabbed it, I was able to get it away from her. I glanced at the last few texts that Adele had seen before me.
MARC
When I came back from my run, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. It still smells like you.
MARC
Just thinking about the noises you made last night makes me hard.
Adele took her coffee cup and sat at the table. “Please tell me it’s a dick pic.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re too much. It’s not, but even if it was, I’m not showing you a picture of Marc’s cock.”
“You’re no fun.” She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. “Ugh, I need sugar and cream.”
I opened the fridge, handed her the container of cream, and then got the sugar from the cabinet before sitting down.
“So what kind of noises did you make?” She grinned and gave me an evil sounding cackle.
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe you broke into my house for details.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Technically, it’s not B and E if you have a key.”
“I don’t think that’s right.”
“You’re avoiding. Why?”
“Last night was …” I paused. “Amazing.”
“What’s he like in bed? Does he have a big dick?”
“Jesus, Adele.” I almost choked on the sip I’d just taken. “Let me drink half my coffee first.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how was he?”
“Stop it.”
“Seven?”
I shook my head. “At least a nine. Maybe a ten.”
Adele clutched her chest.
“Nine/ten level things happened with the hot vet, and you tried to start the morning like a normal person?”
“I was trying to maintain my dignity.” I laughed.
“Dignity left the building the moment you made noises.”
My screen lit up.
We both froze.
“Is that him again?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess you shouldn’t leave the man waiting.”
I glared at her. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I’m a supportive friend.” She winked at me. “Now text him something filthy so we can get back to our conversation.”
I typed three different responses to Marc’s text and deleted all of them with Adele staring at me. Finally, I gave up. “What do you want to know?”
She sat at the table and fixed me with the look—chin in hand, eyes soft, the expression she only broke out for truly romantic intel. The woman lived for this stuff. “Why didn’t you text me last night?”
“I was tired. I went to bed.”
“After four orgasms I would be tired, too, but it’s not that.” She paused. “You were avoiding me. Which tells me there’s something more about last night than just a hookup.”
I groaned and stared at the ceiling. “Maybe. I don’t know. What if it was a one-time thing?”
She gestured at my phone. “The sexts say otherwise.”
“We didn’t even—we didn’t go all the way.”
Adele went quiet. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. He said last night was all about me.”
Adele said nothing. Which was very unlike her.
“What?” I finally asked.
“You found the holy grail.”
“The holy … what are you even talking about?”
“Do you know how many women struggle to get to one orgasm … you had four if your self-reporting text is right and he didn’t—” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “I need a moment. I’m struggling to reconcile the Marc I knew yesterday with the one I know today.”
I smirked. “Who knew under that buttoned-up exterior he was magic in the bedroom?”
“Seriously.” She added cream to her coffee, forgetting she’d already done that. “Four, huh?”
“Do aftershocks count as separate ones?”
We stared at each other. Then completely lost it—it was the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water, the kind you can only have in a kitchen at eight in the morning with your best friend.
Adele wiped her eyes. “Want to grab breakfast at Matt’s before work?”
“No fucking way. I’m not subjecting myself to Mrs. Crawford and the rest of the gossip brigade before I’ve finished my coffee.”
“Spoilsport.” She stood and grabbed her bag off the floor. I hadn’t even noticed her bring it in. “I guess it might be hard to explain the limping anyway.”
“Adele!”
“What? I’m being supportive. You might scandalize Mrs. Crawford if you have to tell her it’s because your vagina is broken.” She grinned, wicked and unrepentant.
“You need to leave.”
She laughed. “Only because I’m going to do recon for you.”
“I thought you were getting breakfast.”
She winked on her way out the door. “Same thing. Bye.”
“Bye. Love you. Text me if you hear anything super outrageous.”
“Love you, too. You’ll be the first call.” She saluted and shut the door behind her.
The apartment fell quiet. I stood at the counter in my oversized T-shirt, wishing it was one of Marc’s, with my cold coffee, warm face, and sent him one last text before I had to go be a functional adult.
DELANEY
Our dinner last night is up for town debate. Mrs. Crawford strikes again. Did you see the town socials?
MARC
Hold on. Just finished with an appointment.
MARC
DELANEY
I have sex hair. Everyone will know.
MARC
Is that a problem?
I thought about it. Actually thought about it—the town talking, the gossip chain activating, Mrs. Crawford’s blurry surveillance photo making the rounds.
DELANEY
No. Unless it’s a problem for you.
MARC
Not in the least.
DELANEY
Okay good. Glad that’s settled.
MARC
Need to get ready for my next patient. Talk later?
Jesus, he really was the holy grail. He didn’t make me wait two days. He didn’t play it cool or leave me wondering. He just—checked in. Like I mattered. Like last night had meant something, and he wanted me to know.
DELANEY
Yeah
I set the screen face down on the counter and stood there in the quiet for a second, my goofy grin doing whatever it wanted to do with my face.
Four orgasms and he still hadn’t let me return the favor. The man was either a saint or running a very long game.
Either way, I was fucked.