Page 68 of Waiting Game

As she perches her ass on the side of the bed and expectantly tilts her head, however, there’s nothing dirty or little about her.

And the last thing I fucking want is for her to be a secret.

These past couple months have been torture. What, with moving from Jersey to the city, then trying to coerce Callan out of his funk with me, and this whole looking but not touching thing with Mia—summer has both sucked and kicked ass.

I scrub my hand over my face at the shit that I want but that I can’t have.

Me: You are so fucking beautiful.

She laughs, but her laughter is sultry. That’s because it’s early on in the session. “You say the sweetest things.”

Me: Maybe, but I wasn’t being sweet.

Her brow lifts.

Ever so faintly.

Her smile is less practiced and more genuine.

Progress.

Less cam girl, more Mia.

“What were you being?”

Me: Honest.

Me: Though you look like you’ve lost weight.

She snorts. “I’m still curvy.”

She is but she’s also a touch pale.

Concern has me frowning as I tap out:

Me: Have you eaten today?

“Yes.”

Lie.

“How do you want me?” she croons.

Me: Did you watch that episode of The Windsors I told you to find?

Her lips purse—gently. “I did.”

Me: Told you it was funny. You didn’t believe me though, did you?

“How did you even know about that show?”

Me: I have eclectic tastes.

“Apparently,” she says with a laugh. “I’m surprised they can even make shows like that in the UK.”

Me: It’s only satire. And sadly for the royal family, the days of beheading dissenters are long gone :P

Me: I’m glad it made you laugh.

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