Page 37 of The KING Review

That’s cruel.

I could leave it there. I definitely should. But I’m not a coward. I want her to know exactly what she’s doing to me. I want her to know that if I had her under me now, I’d make her beg for it, and love every second she spent squirming.

Me:

You really have no idea what I’d do to you if I had you under me right now.

My hand is still wrapped tight around the edge of the counter. I force myself not to touch my cock, even though I’m so hard it’s basically torture.

Six seconds. Ten. I picture her reading, her skin flushed, her hips rolling restlessly against the sofa, or her hand, or both.

Don’t:

I can’t wait to find out

but it’s late, and I have an early class tomorrow

I’ll think of you when I touch myself before I fall asleep

The image detonates in my mind.

Neve, golden and flushed, writhing, one hand between her thick thighs, the other playing with those perfect, firm little tits. Eyes closed, but her mouth soft, needy, panting my name.

My laugh is rough and involuntary.

Me:

Likewise.

I hit send, then brace my elbows on the counter and hang my head, fighting for air. I want her. More than I’ve wanted anything in a damn long time. Not just this, not just a dirty photo at 9 p.m., but the whole thing. All of her, the way she says she wants all of me, if I could bring myself to believe it.

My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it could escape my chest, and I can’t stop smiling.

She doesn’t message back, the consummate tease that she is—but it’s okay. I can wait. I want to wait. She wants me desperate for her, but I want her desperate for me, too.

Chapter Twelve

Don’t Scream

Neve

It’s barely after five, and the bar is more liminal space than nightlife, high-top tables and exposed bulbs, but there’s something magical about the fact that Vida, River, and Wren have a layover in the city, even for an hour or two on their way to a game, so I’ll take it. I haven’t seen her in way too long.

Vida hugs me so hard she nearly knocks my sunglasses off my head with the force of it. River gives me the full Emerson bear hug, picking me right up off the floor. Wren just nods, which is about as effusive as Wren Black gets, but there’s a little quirk of his mouth. He doesn’t let go of Vida’s hand, even when he sits.

Drinks are an immediate point of negotiation. “Two cranberry spritzers, one with gin, one with extra lime,” I say to the bartender, then lean toward Vida. “I love these. It’s like having a grown-up juice box.”

Vida grins, eyes flickering warm in the bar’s downlights. “As long as there’s fruit and a cute garnish, you’re speaking my language.”

River rolls his eyes, but he’s got that soft expression when he looks at Vida. It makes me want to squeal. I love seeing my friend so happy, and she is so happy with River and Wren.

It almost makes my chest ache, how obvious it is. The way Vida glances at Wren, then flicks her eyes to River and melts a little. I want that all-consuming kind of love. I want it even though it’s messy and complicated, even though some asshole from her past once tried to convince her that love the way she wanted it was something to be ashamed of.

The bartender lines up our drinks. River’s is just soda water with a lime wedge, Wren’s is something even sadder, like plain tonic, but they both lift their glasses anyway.

“Boring, I know,” River chuckles. “But we’ve got to keep it clean.”

Wren clinks his glass lightly against Vida’s. “You’ve got enough alcohol for us in there, haven’t you, angel?”