Page 102 of Wildest Dreams

“Yes, we do,” he said. “I wasn’t gaslighting you back in Texas. We’re friends now, Cosmos. And friends show up for each other.” His nostrils flared. “I’ll always show up for you.”

A few minutes later, the doctor knocked on my door—a tan, lean, balding man who prescribed me some antibiotics after checking my throat. The doctor recommended I take another lukewarm bath to bring down the fever before bedtime. “Thistime with supervision,” he chuckled, because of course Grav had shared with him the fact that I fell asleep in the bathtub.

Rhyland put Gravity to bed, read her a good-night story, then drew me a bath. Having been pumped with antibiotics and Motrin/Tylenol the second half of the day, I felt significantly better. I sat in the tub, Rhy perched on the edge of it, and closed my eyes, giving in to the small pleasure of having him there.

“At least your conference went well.” I perked up, opening my eyes.

“About that…” Rhyland gave me a rueful smirk. “I lied. I didn’t want you to talk me out of coming here. There was no PR guru and no twenty-person line waiting to see my app.”

We were both quiet for a moment while I digested all this. For the first time in my life, I wanted to ask my brother for a loan. Not for me but for Rhyland. Only I knew he’d never accept it.

“But, I mean, it wasn’t terrible.” He forced out a smirk. “Some people came by. I exchanged business cards with a ton of tech bros, and those who stopped by my booth showed actual enthusiasm for the app, so we’ll see.”

“How can I help?” I asked.

“You can’t,” he said too quickly. “Bruce’ll sign the contract any day now—his lawyers are going over it right now—and then I’ll be gold.”

But the statement lacked the confident shine with which Rhyland usually delivered his words.

“Oh, by the way, I found out why he’s so traumatized by fuckboys.” His fingers swooshed the water, gently caressing the tips of my nipples. I was way too comfortable to be self-conscious in front of him.

“Yeah?” I purred with my eyes closed. “Why?”

“Tate. Apparently, he fucked him over by buying the lot he knew Bruce wanted to bury his dad in.”

“That’s disgusting.” I made a face. “Also, I wouldn’t consider Tate a fuckboy. A demon? Yes. A ghoul? Absolutely. The reason humanity doesn’t deserve nice things? Sounds about right. But not a fuckboy.”

“You’re probably right.”

“No. I’m always right.”

“Sassing back, I see.” His hand cupped my boob, dipping all the way into the water, and I moaned, instinctively arching myself, on offer to him. “Means you’re all better now.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.” I tipped my chin up, searching for his lips, and he leaned down, giving them to me in a gentle, unhurried kiss.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. “I know how hard it is for you to let go.”

“You can take care of something else if you’re so inclined.” My hips bucked under the water, and I smirked at him. I was still feeling under the weather, but I wouldn’t say no to some good ole fingering. And Rhyland really knew how to strum my body strings like a guitar.

“Say no more, baby.”

He dove in, and I wondered when our bubble was going to burst.

Because it was pretty obvious something this good wasn’t meant to last.

RHYLAND

“No,” I announced simply, slamming the door to my penthouse.

It was eight o’clock—too early for anything that wasn’t morning sex, finding out you’d won the lottery, or both. I hadn’t even had my first coffee yet. I wasn’t equipped to deal with this shit.

I strolled casually toward my open-plan kitchen, flicking the expensive espresso machine to life and withdrawing my MacKenzie-Childs mug. The doorbell chimed once, twice, three times in urgent succession. This time, I dutifully ignored it. I grabbed my phone from the quartz countertop and shot Dylan a quick message.

Rhyland: Hi, it’s your favorite dick owner. Just checking in to see that you feel better.

And because Dylan was mom to a toddler and those fuckers tended to wake up at six in the morning like they had some busy, hot shit to do, she answered immediately.

Dylan: I feel so much better. Thanks. Grav and I are enjoying bagels and cream cheese on the patio if you want to join us.

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