Page 91 of Chasing Sparks

“Nah, I enjoy telling her to fuck off.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I grab two bottles of water from the fridge. “I’ll bet you do. Alright, I’m out of here. See you soon.”

What is it about my ex? The woman seems to know, intuitively, that I’m ready to move on and decides now is the time to throw a wrench into the process.

Not happening, Lucille. You will not screw up what I have with Ori.

But, like an earworm that won’t relinquish its grip, thoughts of my time with Lucille flood my brain. It’s not a fond mashup of memories, but rather a comparison of the two women who have turned my world upside down.

Not that Lucille and Ori are similar in any fashion.

Lucille was, in many ways, a female version of me—enjoying the motorcycle and tattoo life—a bit raucous and extremely raunchy. Especially between the sheets.

She was adventurous but not cultured. Lucille didn’t give a shit about designer names or labels. She was fringe and proud of it.

Actually, I don’t know who the hell she was. And now, I never will.

Then there’s Ori. I never saw her coming. She’s a tiny powerhouse with the biggest brain I’ve ever seen and a mouth that is as talented at telling you off as it is at sucking you off.

But there’s something so fragile about her, too. Ori truly believes in fairytales and happy endings, and not just in her books. She believes in them in everyday reality, for everyday people like us.

Hell, she’s making me believe it, too.

“I wondered where you’d gone.” Ori looks up at me, shielding her eyes with one hand, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Thought you might be planning your escape.”

“From you? From here? Not a chance.” I sink into a shaded lounger, my gaze raking over her, lingering on every sunlit curve.

“Good answer, sir.” She pulls her legs from the pool, water trickling down her skin, and saunters toward me, her fingersslowly loosening the strings of her bikini top. “See something you like?”

“Everything. Every damn inch of you.”

That sex kitten smile of hers? It wrecks me every time.

She straddles my lap, her bikini top sliding down as her bare skin presses against me. Her hands tangle in my hair, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, “Show me.”

I’m with Ori. We’re never leaving.

Today is our last full day here, and somehow, each moment outshines the last.

The food. The sun. The cocktails.

The sex.

Holy shit, the sex is out-of-this-worldphenomenal.

There’s something about this place—the tropical air laced with the scent of jasmine, the sun melting into the horizon, the way Ori looks at me like she’s daring me to give her everything I have and then some.

The rules feel different down here.

Or maybe it’s me who’s changed.

Ori told me she loved me the other day. It was barely a whisper as we drifted off to sleep, so faint I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.

But her words have been on a constant loop in my head ever since, haunting me in the best and worst ways.

And just as I started to believe it was nothing more than a dream, she said it again.

This time, it was undeniable—her voice soft but certain, her breath warm against my ear as I collapsed on top of her, our bodies tangled in sticky, sated bliss.

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