Page 188 of Ex Somnis

“I get that,” I say, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer.

“But…” She kisses me again. “Spencer can fuck off. Completely. Forever.”

I groan and drag my mouth down the line of her throat, and she tips her head back to give me better access.

“And that voicemail,” I murmur against her pulse point.

“Shh.” She draws me off her throat at my hair, then tries to shut my brain off with another kiss, but I can’t not talk about that part.

“Hey.” I pull back from her sweet lips. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

She goes still, then exhales shakily. “I am too,” she whispers, all the heat gone out of her voice.

“Do you want to talk about her?”

Her eyes water, and she blinks rapidly, giving me a small nod.

“I want to tell you all about her, but not right now. Right now, I want to talk about how you told my ex that I’m yours.”

I smirk, and she kisses me again, sliding her hands under my shirt. I grab the hem of hers, but then she rolls her hips against me in a way that pulls a sound out of my chest I’ve never made before. She moans into my mouth when my hand slides up her ribs, and for one long, stupid second, I almost forget why I have to stop this before it goes somewhere I can’t follow.

Almost.

“Sweetheart.” I catch her wrist gently before her hand gets where it’s headed. “How about we go to sleep. Continue this in our dreams.”

She laughs, breathless, like she thinks I’m joking, and kisses me again.

“I’m serious,” I say against her soft, persistent lips.

She gives me one more kiss, then pulls away with a frown. “Why?”

I look down at my legs pointedly, then back up at her. “Because in waking life, I can’t do to you what I can in dreams.”

Instead of flinching, like I halfway expect her to, she tilts her head, studying me with that maddening, patient focus. “You don’t feel it?” she asks. “Or can’t you get hard? I thought I heard you through the wall, the other night, when…”

I groan and drop my forehead against hers. “You heard that?”

“Yeah.” She kisses my mouth with a grin. “It was hot.”

“I never get hard on my own anymore. Usually, I need manual stimulation, and a cock ring to keep it that way once I am.” I say it with no emotion, the same way I’ve learned to explain the worst parts of myself so they sound like facts instead of grief. “That night, it just happened. I don’t fully know why. But yeah, I haven’t had sex in waking life since the accident.”

“Okay.” She shifts in my lap, and mischief sparks in her eyes. “That’s not an issue. I can stimulate your cock. I have to say…” she rolls her hips against me with a smirk, “… I was planning on doing that anyway.”

I grunt as she grinds against me again, but grab her hips, needing to be sure. “It’s not a turn-off for you?”

She stops moving against me, staring at me long enough that I regret asking. Long enough that I wish I could take it back.

“Ridge.”

“Forget it.”

“No.” Her hand slides into my hair. “Look at me. See how much I want you.”

“I want you, too, but we can absolutely keep this part in dreams. I’m not⁠—”

“Why would I want that?” She tugs at my hair, like a warning. “You’re right here. I’m very happy with what we do in dreams, believe me. But I want this too. I want you.”

“You may want me, but you don’t want this.”