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Just as I’m about to give up, he cups the back of my head, holding me to him as he opens to me, allowing my tongue to delve into his mouth. Our breathing turns ragged as he kisses me back with all the passion in the world. Seriously, each swipe of his tongue sends tingles to my clit, making me moan unabashed into his mouth.
I barely register his hand moving until it’s flexing around my throat, forcing me to stop the kiss. “Soren!” I half hiss, half moan.
“Good morning, whore,” he says so pointedly it can only be a reference to what I said last night.
I roll my eyes when he lets go of my throat. “I’m not your whore right now,” I volley, turning my back on him to face Mickey.
“Thought you might need this back,” Mickey says, his voice a low rumble that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.
Huh? As I look down at his outstretched hand, my lips curve into a smile, gratitude flooding through me. “You have no idea how much this means, Mickey,” I breathe out, the weight of isolation lifting with the simple gesture. Taking the phone from him, our fingers brush, and a current of something forbidden sparks between us.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replies. “It was actually Soren’s idea.”
I turn back to Soren. “Thank you,” I repeat, clutching the phone like a lifeline. The promise of being reachable, of not being entirely cut off from the world, makes me feel a little less adrift in the sea of uncertainty that is my life right now.
As we eat breakfast together, I go through my messages and notifications, answering everything. When I get to Jamie’s text, I pull the 3D picture of Fet from my back pocket where it’s folded neatly, and snap a picture. I send it off with the caption “We’re both fine”.
Surprisingly, there are no messages from Luce. It’s like she’s fallen off the edge of the world. She hasn’t been to any of the practices, and she hasn’t even called me back. I try calling her five times, but it goes straight to voicemail which I know means she’s rejecting my calls.
“Guys,” I say, looking up from my bowl of soggy cereal. “I need to ask for one more favor.”
They both look at me with matching looks of curiosity.
“Yeah?” Mickey asks.
“Shoot,” Soren says at the same time.
Swallowing, I gather up the courage needed to ask for what I need. “I need… I have to see Lucia.” The words tumble out, laced with urgency. “Alone.”
Soren’s brows knit together, a silent storm brewing in his gaze. “And why would you need to do that?” he questions, his tone deceptively calm. “And more importantly, why would we let you out of our sights?”
“Because she’s my best friend, and I miss her,” I say, defiant yet pleading. “Please.”
Mickey shifts, an unreadable expression crossing his face. Well, it’s unreadable to me, but not to Soren who arches an eyebrow and scoffs at whatever Mickey’s expression tells him. “If we say yes, you need to check in with us every hour,” Mickey says, and I nod eagerly.
“I will,” I promise.
“Fine,” Soren says, managing to sound like he’s bored. “But if you don’t, we’ll hand you over to Cupid’s Court.”
The way he says it so casually makes anger so potent I can taste it explode. “What the hell?” I scream, standing so abruptly the chair skitters to the floor. “After last night… and giving me my phone… I thought…” I stop talking as a wave of nausea hits me. Clutching my stomach, I fight back the bile rising in my throat, determined not to show weakness.
“Hey, you okay?” Mickey’s voice slices through the fog of discomfort, concern etched in the lines around his eyes.
“Morning sickness,” I manage to say, swallowing hard. “It’s nothing. I’ll push through it.”
“Like hell you will,” Soren interjects, standing up. He towers over me, his protective instincts flaring. “You’re not going anywhere if you’re sick.” The soft look in his eyes is so at odds with the dickish way he just acted that I feel like I’m getting whiplash from trying to keep up.
“No, I’m fine, really.” I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I need to do this.”
They exchange a look—a silent conversation in a language I’m still learning—and after what feels like an eternity, they nod.
“Fine, but we’re serious about those check-ins,” Mickey says, his voice firm but caring.
“How are you planning on getting there?” Soren asks. When I explain I was going to get an Uber, he scoffs and shakes his head. “We’ll drop you off at your place so you can get your car.”
While they finish off their breakfast and get ready, I take full advantage of having my phone back by stalking Luce across different social media platforms. But apart from a few posts here and there, there’s nothing that tells me why she’s ignoring me. Well, nothing apart from the obvious; she’s not just pissed at me, she’s livid.
As we drive to my apartment, I mentally make a list of all the things I need to tell her. Jesus, that list is longer than Santa’s naughty list. Soren pulls up to my apartment, the engine’s purr a soothing balm against the turmoil bubbling inside me.
