Page 48 of Love: Take Two

His words, paired with the exquisite friction of his length against my G-spot, light me up inside. I feel myself teetering on the edge of something. Something big. Something that he wouldn't be able to ignore this time, even with all his logic and plans and rules.

"Fuuuuck!" he groans as he cums inside me, the pulsing of his cock triggering my own release.

In reality, simultaneous orgasms are a myth. I'd also never let a man go raw our first time together, no matter how horny I was. But in my head?

I bite my lip as I rub my clit harder and faster, my orgasm drenching my fingers.

In my head, I can be whoever I want to be. Just like Cinderella. And who I want to be obviously wants Noah to fuck my brains out. Given the new rift between us, the fantasy will have to do.

Chapter twenty-six

Noah

"So, how does it feel to be a married man?" I ask Henry, who's just returned from six weeks in Fiji with his new wife. A wife I'm still extremely pissed at.

Two or eventhreemartinis over lunch with an exec is common. A bottle of champagne is theminimumwhen celebrating a client's big win. To run your mouth after a few glasses of wine at lunch is a huge liability when so much of our work is done over an open bar. It's no less true because she's a lawyer; everyone in Hollywood is a lush.

But I couldn't very well show her the full brunt of my anger when her wedding to my brother was just weeks away. She was understandably preoccupied, admittedly a little tipsy, and meeting her professional idol. Given all that, I can forgive her one mistake, even if it was a doozy.

A doozy that hurt her just as much as it hurt me, if her dejected texts in the hours following "the incident" can be believed. She burned a bridge that day.

"I can't complain," Henry answers, looking more smug and self-righteous than ever. I suppose six weeks of nonstop fucking will do that, not that I want that mental picture in my head.

His flight back was late last night. Instead of forcing him to play in our usual Saturday flag football game, when he'd likely be dead on his feet from jet lag, the brothers all agreed to meet for Sunday afternoon drinks before dinner with the whole family.

"It's pretty great, isn't it?" Adam agrees with a smirk, sounding equally insufferable. I take a sip of his lager to keep from snorting.

I shouldn't feel bitter. I should be happy that my brothers are finding people to share their lives with.And I am!But it still kinda sucks being the only Park brother left to carry the bachelor mantle.

By choice, I remind myself, though it feels like a lie. If it were true, then why did these weeks being iced out by Awa feel like torture? Why did it hurt every time she dumped the coffees I brought her into the trash? The coffees I waited in line for whenIwould've been happy with the crap from craft services? Why did my mind drift to her when I was alone with just my thoughts and my dick, feeling like a perv for finding some relief at the thought of her? And why the fuck was Ialone in my bed, anyway, when so many women would've willingly joined me if I'd only asked?

"You're thinking awfully hard over there," Cory notices, snapping me out of my brooding.

"Yeah," Damon snorts. "I think I smell toast burning."

I roll my eyes.

"That means you're having a stroke, asshole. Head to urgent care now before there's any further brain damage."

Henry doesn't tease me, though. He just studies me, seeing me the way only my twin can. I hunch my shoulders and hide my face with my beer.

"Is this about what happened with Camila?" he guesses. I shoot him a glare.

"No. This has nothing to do with Camila because nothing is wrong."

"What happened with Camila?" Adam asks, the biggest gossip among us.

"Nothing, as I said," I grumble.

Henry drops that line of questioning, but his gaze is still shrewd.

"Did something happen with Yong-rae?" he tries again.

Thankfully, no. As strained as things have been between me and Awa, they've only been getting better between Yong-rae and Tabitha. You'd never guess this was their first time working together. You'd also probably guess they were sleeping together, but I've taken a "don't ask; don't tell" approach tomy client's love life ever since he got his shit together. After all, what the fuck do I know about love?

"Henry's right," Cory says, giving me a once-over. "He's usually the grumpy one, but today, you're bringing down the whole bar with your pouting."

I flip him the bird.