Page 72 of Audiophile

Petra nods her agreement. “Especially if you want kids in the future. Not that you do—I meant—whatever you want from your life is what you should go with. You know what I mean.”

I watch her silhouette as her hand comes up to fiddle with her necklace. It’s important to be honest but careful with her here. “I love kids. I love my nieces. But…”

“But what?” she asks. “You’re the best parts of your dad, Reed. All the joy of hot cross buns without the addiction. You won’t repeat history.”

I’m not as confident as she is. She didn’t watch my family fall apart under the weight of Dad’s decisions. I still her restless hand and weave our fingers together. “I won’t do it on my own. If my partner wants them, I’m on board. If she isn’t into it, then I don’t need kids to have a complete, happy life.”

“I’m terrified of trying again,” she admits quietly. “Genetic testing will make it less risky, but I desperately want kids and I’m terrified of being pregnant.”

I bite back promises I’m not ready to keep. “When you’re with the right person, or you feel safe again, it’ll happen for you. You don’t have to get pregnant to have kids, Petra.”

She nods and lets go to smooth her necklace down. “I should hop in the shower. I’ve got sand in too many places.” My rubber-girl, always deflecting her feelings. But she hasn’t shut down or withdrawn, and I’m proud of her.

“Oh? Am I not invited?” I ask. She grins. Mission accomplished.

“I should’ve made my invitation clearer.” Our shower takes a while, because I can’t stop kissing her long enough for her to wash her hair or anything else.

When we get out, I’m determined to make the most of the time we have left. “The night is young. Where do you want to go?” I ask as I tug on clean clothes. “Dancing, movies, escape room, roller derby, arcade?”

Petra scrunches the water from her wet hair. She’s in trousers and a blouse that shows off the swell of her hip. Her thighs are invitingly soft and sweet. “What do you want?”

“I asked you, Pet. Dream big. What did you enjoy doing in LA?”

“Eating, mostly,” she says, laughing. “And quirky little places. Innocuous strip mall restaurants that are worth twelve Michelin Stars, hidden bars, magic themed coffee shops, storybook cat cafés. There was always something weird going on, and I loved that.”

“According to my research, there is a Wonderland Speakeasy nearby. There’s a mermaid themed café, too, but I think they’re closed already. There’s also a three story brewery and arcade, a wishing tree, a vegan strip club—”

“For lesbians?” she asks, eyes creased in delight. “Because there’s no meat allowed! Oh, I wish Silla was here for that one! I’ll have to text it to her.”

The joy written all over her face is magnetic, and when I kiss her, we’re both smiling. I brush her hair back to kiss below her ear and down her neck. “I wish I could record every moment with you.” I didn’t mean for her to hear it, but she does.

“I don’t mind if you want to set the mic out for a minute.”

I shrug, but my chest throbs with the unfairness of it all. Kinley robbed me of a lot of things, but my distance from DKP is a continuous theft. “I haven’t been able to do any audio of myself. Hence the nature recordings.”

“I’m sorry. I hate that she took away your joy.” Her fingers stroke the back of my neck in a soothing rhythm that makes my eyes fall shut. I’m safe, so safe with her.

“Would you try it with me? Some simple noises, kisses down your neck?”

She tenses in my arms. My skittish deer. I’m going to frighten her away. “Would you publish it?”

“No. Only for me, Pet.”

She takes a deep breath, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Okay.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Reed

When I switch onthe mic, Petra shifts in place, nervous. “Will my breathing sound weird?”

“Your breathing is extraordinarily sexy.” I settle back onto the chaise by the window and tug her into my lap. I love when she’s close enough that the patterns of green stand out in her woodland eyes. I trail my hands up her back to tap the side of her neck. “Can I kiss you here?”

“Yes.” Her eyes flutter shut. I press kisses to her skin—some light, some lingering, all scrumptious. Her body softens under my attention, but she’s extremely quiet. I can almost hear her heartbeat.

“You can make noise. It won’t sound strange, but it helps me know what you enjoy. Like when I tongue your clit—” I pause as her arms pebble, hair standing on end. “Goosebumps? Darling Petra, I want to climb into your brain and discover which words ensnare you. Should I tell you I want to lick your sweet pussy, or eat you out like a five star meal?”

“Reed,”she whispers. It’s all she gives. Whispers, murmurs, whines. She’s not loud, even when she orgasms. She shifts in my lap, searching for friction.

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