Page 40 of Holly Ever After

I can't help but laugh, even though I'm slightly horrified at the thought of drunkenly singing anything, let alone a Queen classic.

“Fair point,” I concede.

“Besides, if I had left, I never would have heard that performance this morning.”

I squint at him, confused, until my hungover brain catches up.

No.

He. Heard. Me.

I’m going to die.

Pass away.

Deceased.

R.I.P.

“This is not happening,” I mumble, putting the coffee down on the counter in fear I’ll drop it. My limbs have forgotten how to function. So has my mouth as it flaps open and shut with no words coming out.

To make matters worse, he’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are hooded, a slight tilt to his lips, as my sex drive comes speeding back to life.

The vibrator wasn’t enough.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He tilts his head. “Like what? Like I didn’t just hear you make yourself come.”

I throw my head in my hands. “OH. MY. GOD. Never say that sentence again.” Because my thighs are hurting from clenching them so hard. “Why the hell were you listening?”

Did I hit my head last night?

“It was hard not to. You’re surprisingly loud for such a little thing.”

“Shut up, Sean. Shut up.”

I try to turn away from him, but he grabs my chin again, tilting my head back. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” I try to snap at him, I really do, but there’s too much heat in my voice.

He runs his thumb over what I’m sure is the furious blush staining my cheeks. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re a grown fucking woman. In your own home. Don’t apologize, don’t be embarrassed.

I take a ragged breath, knowing he’s right. This isn’t the 1950s. I don’t need to be afraid of my sexuality. I don’t need to apologize for exploring it. And I don’t need to put up with his shit.

But he’s a master at getting to me. Always has been. So when his thumb rubs circles over my throat, all I can do is swallow and smell his goddamn delicious scent. If you’ve never smelled a man brewing coffee, try it. There’s something about it that makes me want to rub against him. Rub, and rub, and rub some more.

“Did you hear me?” His voice is low, husky.

I’m so horny.

I hear you. I hear you loud and clear and every cell in my body is screaming for you.But I don't dare say it. Instead, I shake my head.

His hands move to my face, his thumb sliding under my jaw, and his lips are hovering millimeters from mine.

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