Page 73 of Two Hit Wonder

"Oh God," Iona breathed. "Oh God, yes, right there."

Maeve focused on the spot that made Iona gasp, licking and sucking until Iona was gripping her hair and making sounds that were probably audible through the walls. She didn't care. Let the neighbors hear. Let the whole building know. She'd waited fifteen years for this, and she intended to make it worth the wait.

When Iona came, it was with a cry that might have been Maeve's name, her thighs clamping around Maeve's head, her hips bucking against Maeve's mouth. Maeve worked her through it, gentling her touches as Iona came down, until Iona finally tugged at her hair.

"Come here," Iona said, voice wrecked. "Come here, I need to kiss you."

Maeve crawled up and kissed her, and Iona hummed against her mouth, tasting herself on Maeve's lips.

"Not bad," Iona said when they broke apart.

"Not bad?"

"I'm being generous."

Maeve laughed and collapsed next to her, heart still pounding. The fairy lights cast a warm glow over everything, and outside the window, London carried on without them.

"So," Iona said after a moment. "Nothing happens overnight, huh?"

Maeve groaned. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Absolutely not." Iona rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. Her hair was a disaster and her lips were swollen and she was the most beautiful thing Maeve had ever seen. "But for the record? That was worth fifteen years of waiting."

"Only fifteen?"

"Don't push your luck."

Maeve smiled, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, the future felt like something to look forward to rather than something to survive.

Iona's phone buzzed on the nightstand. She grabbed it, checked the screen, and laughed.

"Mo," she said. "Apparently Shepherd's making his famous lasagna and she wants to know if she can have seconds."

"Tell her yes."

"I always tell her yes." Iona typed a reply and set the phone back down. "So. Shepherd has her until tomorrow afternoon."

"Is that so?"

"That is so." Iona's hand found Maeve's hip. "Which means we have approximately eighteen hours before we have to be responsible adults again."

Maeve pulled her closer. "Better make the most of it, then."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Iona made pasta. It wasn't fancy pasta. It was the kind of pasta you made when you hadn't been to the shops in a week and were working with whatever sad vegetables remained in the crisper drawer. But Maeve was sitting at her kitchen table, wearing one of Iona's oversized cardigans because her own clothes were still somewhere on the bedroom floor, and suddenly the pasta seemed like the best meal Iona had ever cooked.

"You're staring at that courgette like it owes you money," Maeve said.

"I'm deciding whether it's too far gone."

"It's a courgette. It was too far gone the moment it was born."

Iona laughed and chopped it anyway. The kitchen was small and cluttered with even more half-finished craft projects, a stack of magazines she kept meaning to recycle, a fruit bowl that contained exactly one wizened apple and a rubber band of unknown origin. It wasn't the kind of kitchen you'd see in a magazine. But Maeve was in it, and that made it feel like exactly the right kitchen.

She caught herself thinking that and immediately told herself to calm down. It had been one night. One very good night, admittedly, but still. She wasn't going to be the person who started planning a future after twelve hours.

Although.