Page 70 of Only and Forever
I nod. “And she can’t hold it any more. She has to let it go—the knife, and everything the reader will associate it with, further in the book.”
“Solid symbolism,” she agrees.
“He has her in his arms,” I continue, wrapping my other arm around her waist, tucking her against me. Sweet Christ, she feels good, her full, soft ass nestled into my thighs, her waist, snug inside my arms, her head resting heavy on my chest.
I have to think about the time Oliver and I got in some petty fight, and Ollie swapped salt for sugar when I was making myself brownies from scratch with the promise that I wouldn’t share any with him; I ate them like it didn’t bother me one bit, like I hadn’t tasted the difference, determined not to give away how miserable he’d made me. I wanted to vomit every bite I took. And I did, afterward. Violently. That memory is the only thing that keeps my body in check. And itbarelykeeps it in check.
“Then what?” Tallulah asks.
I clench my jaw, steady my breathing, trying so hard to keep myself in line. She’s been through hell the past few days, and before that, we went wild on each other in the bookstore, an event we have yet to talk about. Though, what would we even say?Hey, yeah, still super attracted to each other. Still both agree we want different things from a sexual partner and shouldn’t have sex.
There’s no point in dredging it up, especially when she’s so raw. But I do feel a responsibility—to her, to myself—not to let this gowhere I could see it heading. Me, spinning her around, Tallulah clambering back onto the counter as I hiked up her skirt and found her wet and tight, made her come with my fingers, my tongue, again and again.
The thought of tasting her, making her fall apart, has my body rapidly losing the battle to hide its response to her.
I press a soft, savoring kiss to her neck. “And then, even though the last thing he wants is to let her go,” I whisper against her skin, “he does.”
Slowly, I pull my arms away. Slowly, Tallulah turns. She stares up at me, eyes wide, skin glowing. “That...” She licks her lips, then clears her throat. “That was... very informative. Thank you.”
I nod. “Glad I could help.”
We stare at each other. Tallulah’s gaze dips to my mouth. Mine dips to her rock-hard nipples inside her shirt.
Jesus Christ, this woman has the most beautiful tits in the world, and I’m never going to touch them. It’s a tragedy I can’t even begin to reckon with.
“I’m just going to go... write that, then,” she says, taking a step back, picking up her laptop from the counter. “Give me a holler if you need anything, with, you know, the store, the animals, et cetera.”
“Sure.” I take a step to the side, conveniently placing me behind the bar-height chairs and hiding the evidence of how all of this has impacted me. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she says tightly, breezing by me. “I think I’m going to need it.”
TWENTY
Tallulah
Playlist: “No River,” Esmé Patterson
Well, it was inevitable. I’m rooming with a romance reader in a house connected to a romance bookstore owned by someone who runs a romance book club—it was only a matter of time until I got ambushed by romance lovers.
And here I am. Thoroughly ambushed.
Viggo’s book club buddies mingle around the store, genre terms and phrases humming in the air that I have only abstract familiarity with, from their presence on Viggo’s vast rotation of romance reader T-shirts. I sit behind the counter, chin in hand, facing myfifthinterrogation from a customer, another member of Viggo’s romance book club.
“So what’s your favorite trope?” Tad—they/them, according to their name tag—asks. Everyone is wearing name tags, which strikes me as odd, given they all seem to know each other pretty well. I have a sneaking suspicion Viggo did it for my benefit, which would be considerate if I was trying to connect with this heart-eyed crew. Which I’m not.
“Not a trope gal,” I tell them.
Tad’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry,what?”
“Not a romance reader,” I clarify.
Tad looks like I shot their dog.
“Can I take your order?” I ask them.
Tad blows out a breath. “Uh, sure. I’ll take the...” They frown, browsing the menu overhead. “Semlor.”
“Good choice.”