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And I mean it. I may never be able to afford a sip of Glenlivet Eighty Year Old again, but it will always be my favorite whiskey.
Chapter 28
Sophie
I’d be a liar if I said that I mind spending the majority of my time walking around the city gingerly, nursing the delicious soreness between my legs.
Because I love it. I wear it like a badge of honor. It’s like an old friend at this point, and I’ve stopped keeping track of how many times I’ve slept with Declan. I can’t keep up. Can’t keep count.
This past week, I know it’s been ten times. A new record.
We can’t keep our hands off each other. I prefer it this way, always looking forward to the next clandestine meeting. The secret is part of the fun.
The sex, though, is the main event. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever done or had in my life. How can sex be so mind-blowing all the time? It’s incredible every time we’re together, which somehow makes me suspicious. Is there some kind of ancient sex god occupying Declan’s body and possessing him? Shouldn’t there be at least one time when the sex is perfectly fine instead of outstanding and life changing?
Declan has obviously made it a point to intimately understand what makes me tick, learning the ins and outs of my body better than I’ve ever known them, knowing exactly what it takes to make me come again and again and again. I’m constantly surprised by the variations. And at how easily I’ve adapted to Declan fucking me hard—and rough.
Because that’s not something I knew I’d love until I was under him, seeing stars and wondering how my body craves it.
I thrill in the way he seems to lose his precious control around me. It makes me feel powerful and desired.
But—and I hate that there has to be a but to this beautiful situation—each time that Declan leaves the apartment in a hurry and I’m left to go off into the night, by myself, it gets a little harder. The crash from the high gets a little more painful.
It’s my own fault. I caught feelings and I’m letting them get to me.
But now I’m starting to feel like maybe it’s Declan’s fault too.
This is the first time I’ve ever done something like this before. And if he’s so easily conducting himself through this entire affair, just arranging for an apartment and keeping things cool and detached at work, I have to consider the idea—no, the likely fact—that he’s done this before. Many times, even.
It’s a thought that eats at me. How many trysts has he brought to that apartment? How long has he had it? How many trysts has he had before he’s boiled everything down to this precise science?
My stomach sours, and I wish I could think of something—anything—else. It’s impossible though. Declan occupies my mind day and night. At work, at home, and at that freaking apartment.
“Are you excited about this weekend?”
I blink and paste a smile on my face automatically. It’s Friday afternoon, and Andrea is holding out a latte, grinning at me.
“You know it,” I tell her, accepting the caffeine and hoping it helps me banish this funk. Jealousy—and insecurity—doesn’t feel good. It robs me of my energy.
“Um, I think you were actually looking for the answer ‘hell, yeah,’” she says. “You might’ve had fun the first time you did one of these by yourself, but now it’s going to be even better to enjoy it among friends.”
Hannah cuts in between us—awkwardly enough to send Andrea stumbling backward—and Andrea scowls. “Well, almost among friends.”
This weekend marks an event that, in-house, we’re referring to as a re-launch party. It’s the more inclusive branding—and guest list—that we’re testing out, and it’s all hands on deck for the social media and marketing department.
“It’ll be fun,” I say, but my heart’s not in it. Having to work this weekend means that I probably won’t have the chance to be with Declan. He’ll probably be just as busy, if not busier, than I will be at work. He prioritizes this company, and this event has to be a success.
I should reframe my approach too, and forget about this event robbing me of an opportunity to have sex. This is another chance to prove myself to Carol—and my good work to the benefit of Dynasty.
“Okay, but I need your help,” Andrea says, whipping out her phone and perching on the edge of my desk. “I have to pick between three dresses, but with three shoe choices—and multiple hair and accessory options—does that mean I have like three to the millionth power choices? Talk me down from this cliff, please, because I’m actually kind of panicking.”
“Let’s go through them one by one,” I say, trying to focus on the task at hand while comforting myself with the thought that at least I’ll see Declan at the event this weekend.
That will have to be better than nothing.
* * *
“Yes! Amazing!” Reagan applauds furiously, trying and failing to whistle with her fingers. She actually accidentally makes herself gag on them and we both almost fall down laughing.
