Page 76 of Almost Yours
“There are plenty of ways to keep busy until then…” I mutter against her lips. I slip beneath the sheets, and a gasp escapes her as I flatten my tongue against her bare, soaking wet pussy. It’s enough to make the whole world fall away.
twenty-eight
. . .
Violet
It’s been a week since Rowan left, and the beginning of May has settled in around me. Longer days, greener trees, and…loneliness. It’s not that I wasn’t used to being alone before, but now it’s like there’s an actual piece of me missing. He calls me once a day, but it’s not enough.
Bramble’s been a comfort, though. She’s curled up on the couch beside me at my condo, her head nestled in the crook of my arm.
“Violet, get your ass up. We’re going out.”
Whitley’s voice is bright and demanding, full of energy as usual. Her heels click against the floor as she storms in, Bramble’s ears perking up at the sound, tail thumping against the couch in excitement.
“Violet,” Whitley’s voice closes in on me, and there’s a teasing lilt to it. “You don’t get to lie around looking all cute and forlorn while I’m out here living my best life. We’re hitting the town today. You, me, and maybe some tequila. No excuses.”
I can’t help but laugh a little, shaking my head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“Damn straight.” She reaches out, pulling me up from the couch. “Come on. I could really use my wing woman today.”
I roll my eyes. “Am I going to need to crash at Rowan’s later because you’ll be loud enough that the whole building will call the cops?”
She laughs, the sound rich with confidence as she tugs me toward the door. “Maybe. I’m on the lookout for someone intense, who knows when to shut up and is good at fixing things.”
“That’s…oddly specific,” I say as I pull on my shoes.
She shrugs. “I know what I want. Bonus points if he actually knows what a clit is.”
“Okay, so a strong, silent type who’s also…good with his hands. And…mouth, maybe? I’ll keep an eye out.”
I get ready as quickly as I can. The place we show up to is packed by the time we get there. Whitley pulls me through the door, her grip on my wrist unrelenting as we weave through the crowd toward the bar.
“Two tequila sunrises,” she tells the bartender with a wink, then turns to scan the room, her eyes narrowing like a predator searching for her prey.
I’m about to suggest we find a table when I spot Beau and Jake tucked in a corner booth.
“Oh,” I say, nudging Whitley. “Look who’s here.”
She follows my gaze, and I swear I see her posture straighten a fraction. “Well, well. The brooding bodyguard and a sidekick.”
“Be nice,” I warn, but there’s no real force behind it. Whitley’s version of “nice” is subjective at best.
We collect our drinks and make our way over. Jake spots us first, his usual grin spreading across his face when he sees us.
“Violet Larkin,” he calls out with that playful grin, his voice carrying over the chatter in the bar. Then he turns his attention to Whitley, sizing her up with that same cocky look he always gets when a new face appears. “And who would this be?”
“Whitley,” she replies smoothly, extending her hand, giving him a look that says she’s already sizing him up right back.
He grins wider. “Well, Whitley, it’s a pleasure.”
“A pleasure, indeed. How have we not met before? This town has a population of, like, twelve,” she teases before her attention drifts to Beau sitting on the opposite side of the booth. “AndBeaumont, how lovely to see you again.”
“That is not my name.”
“Oh, sorry. Was it Beauseph? I always mix those up.”
“I’m begging you to stop.”
