Page 104 of Lotus

Turning around, I’m greeted by both Gabe and Tabitha, staring at me with knowing smiles, sitting at the dining table eating doughnuts while sipping on coffee. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. Good morning.”

“Morning,” Gabe says, his voice much more chipper than it normally is in the early hours. He winks at me mid-chew.

Tabitha’s cheeks redden as she ducks her head, picking at the little cardboard heat protectant around the coffee cup. “Hi, Oliver. Gabe and I were up all night talking,” she tells me through a modest laugh. “We didn’t, um… you know…”

“I see,” I nod, wondering why she feels the need to reassure me. Possibly due to our talk over supper—or, more specifically, how she told me she’s taking her time with new courtships. But I am not one to judge. Clearing my throat through the awkwardness, I respond, “Sydney and I… well, we…”

They reply in unison: “We know.”

Oh.

My own cheeks surely color at the insinuation. Sydney and I did not exactly hold back with our indulgence, nor did we consider the other occupants in the house. I understand now why Gabe and his lady friends were always so vocal. “My apologies for our rudeness,” I mutter sheepishly, twisting back around to the refrigerator in an attempt to hide.

I go about fixing breakfast, a heart-shaped omelet with a side of fresh strawberries and bananas, and a serving of hash browns. Bits and pieces of Gabe and Tabitha’s conversation filter through my ears while I plate the food, mostly of her explaining to him that she needs to get home to Hope, who is with her parents—apparently, they drove in from Utah to stay for the holidays. Gabe thanks her for the wonderful evening, and there is genuine longing in his voice, something I recognize more than I can say. He likes her, truly. She is different from all the others, and that makes me intensely happy for the both of them.

I don’t miss the taunting eyebrow wiggle Gabe throws at me when I exit the kitchen with two full plates, and I’m certain he’ll be pressing me for details later once both women have departed.

Pushing quietly into the bedroom, I find Sydney still curled beneath the comforter, only now, she’s wearing my t-shirt. She rolls over to face me when the door creaks open, a smile blossoming as our eyes meet. “You’re awake,” I grin back, closing the door with my heel.

Sydney stretches out her limbs, kicking off the blanket to reveal her exposed legs. “Yep. I figured you either ditched me or got up to make breakfast. I was leaning towards the latter when I smelled eggs.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she pats the mattress beside her. “Come. Feed me.”

“Which part first?”

She stares at me, processing the question. Then she laughs with a snort, cupping her hand over her mouth and shaking her head at my folly. I’m relieved to discover that our easy humor has not been lost, despite the lines we bridged.

I climb across the bed on my knees, handing her one of the plates. “You’re more covered than I had hoped,” I tease, my gaze giving her a full sweep. Her hair is a tangled mess, her under eyes smudged with makeup, her one knee elevating and causing the t-shirt to ride up her thighs. I swallow, recalling how it felt to be right in between those thighs. “You’re beautiful, Syd.”

Sydney grips the plate between her hands, breath catching at my words. “You’re not so bad yourself, Oliver. I wish I could look like you first thing in the morning.” Her blue stare rakes over me with appreciation.

I blink. “Like a man?”

“No!” Her laughter bubbles over and she throws her head back against the headboard. “God, stop making me laugh. I have to pee. I mean, you still look hot as hell, where I look like I just battled my way throughThe Ten Plagues of Egypt.”

“You wear your boils rather well.”

A hand swats at my shoulder, more laughter invading my ears before she glances down at the food she’s holding. She pauses, momentarily entranced by the breakfast. “It’s shaped like a heart.”

“Yes,” I concur, inching my way closer until we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Do you like it?”

In a flash, her plate is set aside, her arms encasing my neck with an eager embrace, and we both fall to the mattress as she buries her face into my neck. “You’re the sweetest man. I don’t deserve you.”

Lying back on the bed, Sydney sprawled out on top of me, I cup her face between my hands and lift her gaze to mine. “You always deserve what is meant for you, and if anything is meant to be, it’s us,” I tell her earnestly, with whispered passion, my thumbs drifting over her cheekbones.

“You’re too good to me,” she croaks back.

In a bold move, not allowing myself to think, I flip us over until Sydney is caught beneath me, hair splayed across the blue blanket, sunshine on water. Her eyes pop open at the maneuver, her lips following with a gasping sigh when my fingers graze down her abdomen to slip inside her underwear. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “I want you to teach me everything. How to touch you, taste you, worship you.” My fingers sweep over her wet heat, two of them entering her while my thumb circles her most sensitive area. Sydney arches off the bed, hands latching onto my hair, her eyes closed tight. Her reaction has my neither regions tenting my sweatpants, throbbing and yearning to replace my fingers. “You enjoy this?”

“Yes… God, yes.” She bucks against my hand, begging for more. “Right there…”

I’m not an expert on sexual foreplay, nor on the female anatomy in general, but I’ve read books. I’ve looked at magazines.

When I entered my teenaged years, Bradford brought me stacks of magazines to look at, telling me that I would know what to do. My body responded appropriately, intrigued and curious as I flipped through the explicit photographs. And when I discovered video reenactments on Gabe’s computer after my return, much like those pictures in the magazines, my curiosity only heightened. My sexual appetite began to grow. I envisioned Sydney often when I explored my own body, imaginingheras the women in the footage.

I never expected those fantasies to come to life.

Nipping her earlobe with my teeth, I pump my fingers faster, circling my thumb with further pressure. My breath is hot against her ear, my arousal almost painful. Watching her buckle and writhe underneath me,becauseof me, is the most sensual thing I have ever experienced.

“You’re incredible, Syd…” I breathe into her neck, trying to remain focused on pleasuring her, instead of on the aching erection between my legs. She is moaning, thrashing, wanton and ready to break. I fist her hair with my opposite hand. “Do you like the way I touch you?”

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