Darting my tongue out, I taste my bottom lip.
It’s swollen, sensitive from Mason’s assault. Or mine. I wasn’t gentle when I kissed him back. I went at him like a woman deprived, which is exactly how I should still be feeling, only . . .
That was, hands-down, the best kiss of my life.
It wasn’t just the way he worked his mouth, it was the filth spilling out of it. The soft murmurs against my skin about how he could fuck me. How he wanted to, only . . .
He wants more than that. More than a hard fuck in an alley.
Feelings and knowing each other.
More.
My head grows heavy. Am I seriously contemplating this request?
After the way things ended last night, I was dead-set on waving bye-bye to the prospect of Mason and jumping on the next willing and available dick. No man has ever turned me down before. Ever. Definitely not one where we’re both already naked and his cock is at full mast. But Mason . . . he refused me. Straight up, with my tits out and everything. I was angry and confused. Hurt. God, I didn’t want to admit that, but I was. I wanted him. He obviously wanted me. I drove home like a mad-woman on a rampage.
A mad, horny woman on a rampage.
That problem was handled immediately.
After experiencing one of the quickest, most satisfying orgasms of my life, go figure, I gave into the enticing idea of sleep, but tossed around most of the night.
Again, I was baffled. Who passes on this kind of opportunity?
It’s not as if I’ve never been pursued by the men I’ve slept with for the prospect of more. Take clingy Paul, for example. He definitely didn’t want me to dine and ditch his ass the other night. But cases like that have always transpired in the aftermath of sex, not before.
Never before.
Who is this guy?
I empty my mind of that question, of the kiss I shouldn’t be obsessing over as I step inside the bakery.
The chime rings out through the small space.
Joey and Dylan are talking closely behind the counter. Whispering, in fact. They both glance up at the sound of my entrance.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Joey practically sings.
I barely glance in his direction. He’s way too cheery for me right now.
“Hey. They’ve stopped serving that caramel ribbon crunch you like so I got you a macchiato instead. I hope that’s okay.” I set the carrier on the display case and look up at Dylan.
Please be okay. I don’t feel like walking back there.
A soft smile pulls at her mouth as she steps closer. “That’s okay. That’s okay. I’ll drink caramel anything, sweetie. Thank you.”
My brow pinches together in response to the strange tone in her voice, to the nickname.
Sweetie?
“Why do you sound like that? Did someone die?” I ask, looking down at her outfit. Shouldn’t she be in all black? Who wears pastels when they’re in mourning?
Dylan plucks her coffee from the carrier. “No. And how do I sound?”
“Like someone died.”
Joey makes an amused sound in the back of his throat as he reaches for his coffee.
“Nobody died. I heard about last night,” Dylan confesses, leaning her hip against the counter. She looks tragically sorry for me. “All about it. Are you okay? That must’ve been crazy awkward.”
Oh, terrific. That’s why they were whispering.
I glare at Joey, who simply blows me a kiss before taking a sip of his coffee.
Bitch.
I take in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I tell her, which isn’t necessarily a lie. If she would’ve asked me that question last night or any time before my interaction with Mason this morning, then I’d be lying.
Joey lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re fine? You devoured half a cheesecake last night, Brooke.”
I wince at the memory.
God, I seriously need to get a handle on my sweets consumption during moments of distress. Or, at least eat them discreetly. I publicly tore up that cheesecake like it owed me money.
Shrugging off my pathetic behavior, I grab my coffee and take a sip. “I was hungry. I didn’t have much for dinner. And really, last night wasn’t a big deal. I’m over him.”
I was unfortunately never even under him.
“Oh, well that’s good to know, since there’s a chance he’s about to walk right in here.”
“What?” My head snaps in Dylan’s direction, then toward the front of the shop.
My eyes go round. Mason walks past the large window and reaches for the door. The grip on my coffee tightens.
What the hell is he doing?
“This should be interesting,” Joey murmurs as the chime sounds overhead.
I swallow uncomfortably, nearly choking on my own saliva.
Mason steps inside the shop, his hand now carrying the coffee he obviously went back for. He levels me with a perfectly casual smile, as if he didn’t just have his tongue in my mouth five minutes ago, then immediately notices the other two bodies in the room.
“Ah, it’s good to see ya again, mate. Didn’t catch your name yesterday.”
Joey takes Mason’s hand into a firm shake. “Yeah, you seemed a tad bit distracted with the chick next to me.” He shoots me a quick, cheeky glance, then turns back and jerks his chin. “It’s Joey.”
I smooth down the front of my shirt as the three of them exchange introductions. My cleavage pops out another inch. Completely accidental and not at all done for his benefit.
Mm. Maybe he’ll notice tomorrow when he stops chatting up my friends.