Eva combed her fingers through Pixie’s hair, the strands soft and addictive. “For it being a depraved kinkfest, it was a lot cozier than I expected.”
“That’s why I tend to stick to playing with the crew at Whipped. I can get my needs met, for the most part.”
“What about beyond play partners?” Eva asked, even though she had no right to the information. Maybe it was the scene they’d shared tonight, but she found herself a little more bared open than usual.
The car jerked to a halt, popping the bubble they were in.
“This is us.” She pushed the door open. “Thanks.” She nodded to the driver before stepping out of the car and then reaching back to help Pixie out. The tall condo building where Pixie and Micah lived loomed in front of them, plenty of lights at the entryway still beaming.
Their footsteps clacked against the tiles, and the warm interior glow poured over them. This place offered such a different vibe from the home she’d shared with Jack on the outskirts of Reno proper. However, Pixie somehow made what might’ve been a cold and forbidding space cozy and welcoming.
More welcoming than the house she’d lived in for the past five years.
“I don’t date much outside of play partners,” Pixie said as they stepped in front of the elevator.
Eva blinked at the honest answer. She’d thought the woman would evade it. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and they slipped through. Eva’s curiosity brought words to her tongue, but she didn’t want to push, not while they both brimmed like this, a bit more vulnerable than usual after the scene they’d shared tonight.
“Maybe it’s because I ditch them before they’ll ditch me,” Pixie whispered so softly Eva almost didn’t hear her. “Can’t get hurtthat way, right?”
Her heart broke at those simple words and the pain lingering in them.
Eva didn’t have any answers, but she cupped Pixie’s cheek and lifted her head. “If only it worked like that.”
Her gaze dropped to Pixie’s cherry lips, the longing to lean in and close the space between them growing so intense she could barely breathe. Despite Pixie’s bright smiles, she was a mystery Eva wanted to solve, to understand why her gaze flickered with darkness sometimes, why she retreated. The air thickened between them, but neither one moved, mere inches separating them.
The ding from the elevator slashed through the quiet.
The doors opened, and Eva pulled away first to head in the direction of Pixie’s condo. Pixie fished out her keys and unlocked her door. She entered first, switching on the lights before stepping farther into her apartment. Eva followed close behind, sensing the woman’s attempt to flee.
Not on her watch.
She’d promised Meg to take care of Pixie tonight, and that was what she’d do.
“Go curl up with your favorite blanket on the couch,” Eva said, stepping into command. “I’m making us tea.”
Pixie had a soft spot for a cup of tea, and she would take advantage of that. Pixie wrinkled her nose, but she trudged to her couch, which Eva counted as a win. Eva whisked through the kitchen, set the electric kettle on, and grabbed two mugs with a clink and tea bags to follow. Within a minute, the kettle was already boiling, and she poured the steaming water into the mugs. They could both use the chance to unwind.
Before she returned to Pixie, Eva fired off a text to Meg.
Home safe. Taking care of her.
Pixie lay curled up in a fluffy pink blanket, nestled amid a pile of mismatched pillows.
Eva carried the mugs into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. She sat next to Pixie and didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close. Just like in the Uber, Pixie nuzzled against her, snuggling in like she belonged there, and Eva’s heart thundered.
She sank into the couch and began to run her fingers through Pixie’s soft strands. Eva lost herself in the motion, in the sweet scent of this woman, in the warm heat and curves pressed against her. After the unmoored way she’d felt since the breakup, this was the first time she’d started drifting back to the harbor.
Eva would hold on to every last second she’d get.
Chapter Eight
Pixie leaned against her kitchen counter, more awake than if she’d downed a carafe of coffee, even though she hadn’t tipped back an ounce of caffeine.
All due to last night.
To following Eva’s commands, the way she’d wielded humiliation and dominance with a natural skill that seemed too good to be true. Her knees were a little weak from the scene at Play Night. The combination of Fin, Meg, and Eva had been absolute perfection. Except when she’d begun to drop afterward, the disconnect she’d felt with everyone had surged to the fore.
There had been no rhyme or reason—Fin and Meg and Eva had delivered a heap of attention on her, and she should’ve been happy. Grateful. Instead, her brain had latched onto Meg’s talk about going home to Tristan. Everyone would eventually drift out of her life, andthe reminder she didn’t have someone to stick around at the end of the day had grabbed her by the throat. Micah might be living with her for now, but the writing was already on the wall. He’d be moving in with Parker as soon as the opportunity arose.