Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(86)
She climaxed on a cry. A loud cry he muted by covering her mouth with one hand. She bit down on to his finger as he thrust again and again, spilling into her. The thrusts slowed and he dropped his forehead, his palm leaving her mouth.
She felt his breath fan her back when he spoke. “Loud.”
Losing the ability to hold herself up, she collapsed on the bed with a smile that might stay on her face forever. The movement pulled Donovan from inside her.
“Kids outside.” He collapsed next to her and kissed her shoulder.
Oops, she’d forgotten about them. She’d forgotten everything, temporarily. Life was only a series of snaps, pops, and zaps jettisoning through her bloodstream. She still buzzed.
“Your fault.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “You make me loud.” A satisfied smile arched her lips.
A cocky grin overtook his as he continued to catch his breath.
Rolling to her side, she put a palm on his back. “Never done that before.”
He mirrored her movement, pulling her flush against him.
“Which part?”
“The… um. The… last part.” The from-behind part. Yowza.
“More where that came from. My favorite part is your mouth.”
He brushed his finger over her lips. She bit him lightly.
“Liked that, did you?” she asked.
“Scampi, I like everything you do to me.”
Her heart filled to overflowing at the compliment. She liked everything he did to her. She imagined another reality where they stayed together, where they continued to push boundaries together. Continued one-upping themselves until both of them were panting and pleased every single day.
A fantasy.
Her smile faded. Not a reality at all.
“I’ll start the shower.” He kissed her on the lips and climbed out of bed. Sofie stuck her hand underneath the pillow under her head and watched Donovan’s bare backside move across the shadowed room.
So domestic. Pretend, she mentally corrected. Her Cinderella fantasy was winding to an end, her mansion about to turn into a pumpkin, her prince about to return to New York.
“Come on, Scampi”—Donovan stood in the doorway of the bathroom—“my back isn’t going to wash itself.” He gave her a wink, then ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Neither is my front.”
With a roll of her eyes, she clambered out of bed. “I’m coming.”
He vanished into the bathroom calling behind him, “Did that already.”
She smiled, but her smile felt sad. A black cloud she could no longer ignore loomed in the distance.
Well.
She’d have to forget the cloud for now. As Donovan had said to her before…
“Is what it is,” she whispered to the empty bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sofie fluffed Faith’s hair one final time and spritzed her with a quick shot of extra-hold hairspray. She hadn’t been in her own apartment for so long, the place felt sort of foreign.
Faith stood from the edge of the bed and turned her head left, then right, studying her reflection in the full-length mirrored closet doors. Sofie had wound Faith’s fine, fair blond hair around a large-barreled curling iron and had given her big, fat waves. The length flowed over her golden-tanned shoulders, making her look like a supermodel… well, like more of a supermodel.
Faith faced her and grinned. “You are so good at this, Sofie.” She propped her hands on her hips and ran a gaze down Sofie’s wardrobe to the very high, open-toed black heels on Sofie’s feet. “You look amazing in that dress.”
Sofie wrinkled her nose. “Really? I was going to change it.” Her eyes went to the mirror. She would swear the dress was longer at the store when she tried it on. “The way the skirt flares.” She smoothed the back of the dress flat. Courtesy of her round bottom, it flared out again.
“It’s gorgeous. If I had a caboose like you, I’d wear short skirts every day.”
“You don’t think it’s too much?” She turned and bent slightly. “I’m not sure Ruby Voss wants to see quite this much of my thighs.”
Faith, in her own little black dress, a svelte, sleeveless number that skimmed her sleek figure and ended demurely above her knees, held up a finger. “Do not change that dress. Yes, it’s shorter than you’re used to, but it is in no way inappropriate.”
Maybe Sofie was worrying needlessly. After all, she needed something to obsess about in place of obsessing about Donovan. With a last, wary glance at the mirror, she said, “Fine. But if at any point you can see my underwear, flag me down.”
“Done.”
Classical music piped through the speakers in the ballroom, the sconces throwing low light on the walls. Evergreen Cove’s finest dressed residents milled about, filling the room with the din of casual chatter.
Sofie knotted her hands together as she did another pass of the room. A few of the older kids from Open Arms, dressed in their best clothes for the event, served cupcakes from a table in the back. Others delivered mini desserts from Sugar Hi while a league of waiters in smart black pants, white shirts, and bow ties carried trays of slender champagne flutes.
Dinner was delicious, five courses served to a sit-down crowd. She was still surprised how many items had been donated for the silent auction. One corner of the ballroom was absolutely packed with everything ranging from paintings to photographs to interior decorating packages from Cozy Home. But there were two items in particular that had received the most fanfare.