26. Down Bad #2
I went still, breathless, already needing whatever she was about to say. "Yeah. Tell me."
She swallowed, a half-laugh in her voice. "Last night—when I went down on you? I didn't think it would get me that worked up, but it did. Like your sounds, your taste, your smell, the way you lost it for me. Almost came just from doing that to you."
Damn. The image hit me instantly: her face lifting from between my thighs, lips parted, chin glistening, eyes heavy and slightly unfocused like she'd forgotten where she was.
The sight burned straight through me. I clenched when she pulled out, almost as if trying to snatch her back inside me.
"Yeah? You liked it that much? Tell me more—slowly. "
A flush spread up my neck as she filled me again, fingers pumping slowly, lips brushing my ear. My eyes rolled back. "It was…I don't know. Hot. I didn't want to stop. Made me want you even more. I kept thinking, why didn't anyone tell me it could be like that?"
My breath stuttered out, hips rocking up into her hand, my own fingers never stopping their slow, sweet torture. I tried to sound smooth, but it came out husky instead. "Let me be your first for everything, then. We've got time."
She shifted, thigh between my knees, her own legs spreading to give me better access.
The world melted to the two of us, hands and mouths seeking, bodies locked together.
I dug into her shoulder so hard she'd feel it later, while she moved her own fingers inside me, her thumb running tight eights on my clit.
I matched her, circling her with my hand, feeling how wet and ready she was, loving every curse that tore from her lips.
We moved slow, noting every noise, every twitch, until we couldn't anymore, faster, rougher, both of us chasing the edge, sharing air. Eyes locked the whole way. We were caught in it, in each other, too far gone to do anything but feel it happen.
It wasn't clear who broke first, voices wrung out and wild. I pressed my face into the pillow and moaned her name until my body tensed up, her fingers still working inside. But I felt her clench around mine at the same time, her breath hot against my cheek, both of us coming together.
It took a second to land. I came exactly when she came, looking right at each other. I didn't know what to do with that.
I'd been chasing Romi for months. This was starting to feel like I'd caught something I didn't have space for yet.
We collapsed, sweaty, mouths crushed together, holding each other, hearts pounding like we just raced up stairs.
Finally, the spell broke. She frowned. "I have to go. A&R meeting in two hours."
I reached for her, grinning. "Or we could stay in here and keep doing that all day."
She scoffed, but there was no real bite. "You really think you could eat me for breakfast and function after?"
I pretended to consider it. "Pretty sure I'd be more productive, honestly. Why don't you sit on my face and find out?"
Romi's eyes went cartoonishly wide. "You're so—" She didn't finish, because I'd pulled her back, rolled her under me, and started kissing her again. She giggled, surprised, then yelped when I nipped her breast.
She squirmed free, but I grabbed her by the waist, holding tight. "You're not leaving," I said.
"I have to," she whined, but made no real effort to escape.
I kissed her shoulder. "No, you don't. Play hooky with me."
She wriggled, trying to hide a smile. "You're an entire fucking menace, Cam Wolfe."
"Say it again, I'll show you how much." I said, nipping at her collarbone and following up with my tongue.
She made a noise—equal parts laugh and moan—then twisted out of my arms and rolled off the bed, landing on the carpet with a thud. "Nah, you not gonna have me signing over my car and penthouse because you had my ankles up by my ears on a Monday morning."
I propped myself up and watched her stand, naked and magnificent, chest heaving.
She scanned the room for her dress, then gave up and wrapped my sheet around herself like a toga.
With the long boho braids and the morning sun floating around her, she could've been a magazine cover image, right there.
I tried to look chagrined but mostly enjoyed watching her be pretty and soft. "Oddly specific. But if you come back to bed, I promise to let you leave on time."
She glared at me, but her mouth curled. "You a damn lie," she said, and started digging for her underwear.
Romi disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the faucet turn on. Water running for a moment, then she was back, looking softer somehow. Still wrapped in my sheet, baby hairs damp with sweat around her face.
The sheet smelled like the essence of her, and I pressed my face into it, greedy for every last sniff.
She found her bra under the desk, a lost earring in the ice bucket, and both halves of her dress in two completely different zip codes of the suite.
She caught me watching from the bed, hands behind my head, the duvet barely covering my lazy self. "You're staring again," she called, voice pointed but not mean.
"I can't help it," I replied. "You look cute doing the walk of shame."
She held up her dress, inspected it for damages, then started shimmying into it without an ounce of modesty. "This isn't a walk of shame," she corrected. "With us? It's a whole victory lap."
"Could be both," I said. "Depends on the audience."
She ignored that, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
She slipped into her heels—barefoot, she'd been a few inches shorter than me, which was adorable and unexpected—and then checked the mirror. She frowned at her braids, then at the smudge of bruise on her neck, then at the complete absence of any jewelry. "You didn't steal my necklace, did you?"
"Not unless it ended up in the sheets," I offered, giving her my most innocent look. I flopped over so she could see all of me again. "You're welcome to come look if you want. Full access."
"Nice try." She rummaged through the blankets, then the floor, then gave up and shrugged. "It'll turn up."
She was half turned to the door when she paused. Looked back at me, eyes softer than before. I could tell she was debating something, maybe whether to risk another line of banter, maybe whether to come back for a real goodbye. Instead, she said, "You're going to be late if you stay in bed."
"I don't have anywhere to be," I lied. I had a radio spot, a post-mortem call with my agent, and the aftermath of last night's afterparty brewing on Fizzr, but none of that mattered compared to how cute she looked in my hoodie, which she'd snagged from the chair and thrown on over her dress.
She caught herself in the mirror across the room and turned sideways, checking the fit. The hoodie was oversized on her, sleeves hanging past her fingertips, the hem hitting mid-thigh over her dress. She posed, one hand on her hip, eyebrow arched at her reflection.
"Okay, this is actually a look," she said, tugging the hood up so her face peeked out. "Very 'off-duty supermodel slumming it with the locals.' I could make this a whole aesthetic."
"Seriously?" I said. "You're starting the whole hoodie-stealing lesbian relationship milestone? We haven't had breakfast yet."
She pulled the hood down and shot me a look, but her cheeks went to a warm plum. "Shut up. It's cold in here." A pause, softer. "Plus, it looks better on me, anyway."
It was a low blow, and she knew it, but the image made my ears burn.
She zipped the hoodie, pulled the hood up, and stood by the door. "I'll bring it back," she promised, but we both knew she'd wear it home and sleep in it and maybe we'd argue about it the next time we ran into each other while I pressed her into the nearest wall to shut her up.
I remembered, for a split second, how long it had taken Akasha to start hoodie-poaching. Weeks, at least. She'd left her stuff around my house almost immediately, marking territory before we had agreed to be serious, but with Romi it felt more like a trophy than a flag.
Romi lingered at the door, hands deep in the pockets, eyes on the floor. Then she looked up and said, "You know this doesn't have to mean anything."
I was unsure if she meant the hoodie or us. Either way, I needed her to know I didn't want an out. "I mean, it's okay if it does."
She didn't answer, but the pause was all the answer I needed.
I got out of bed naked, no shame, walked over and kissed her, all skin and intent. This time she didn't fight it, didn't try to take control. She kissed me back, hungry and a little lost, like we were both trying to figure out where the next move was.
When she broke away, she smiled, not the power smile, but a quick, tired one for me alone. Just enough to make me wonder if she'd changed her mind, just enough to keep me guessing. Chasing. "See you around, Wolfe."
"Count on it," I said.
She slipped out, hoodie sitting on her body like it belonged there, and the latch clicked closed with a finality I felt all the way down to my toes.
I stood at the door a bit longer, staring at the mess we'd made of this bed together, at the sunlight crawling up the wall. Then I started the hotel room coffee, grabbed my phone, and prepared to face the rest of the world. I had a feeling nothing would ever taste quite as good again.