Page 61 of Filthy Sweet

I grin, proud. “Everyone loved it. I guess the curators were talking about something similar with reproductive cycles, focusing on eggs and babies, but they like the mating angle more, so we’re drafting up a few proposals. Isn’t that cool?”

“Fuck yeah, Dr. Lavigne,” Fox says approvingly. “They’re lucky to have you working there.”

I glance to the papers, piled up on the coffee table. “Do you have more work to do? Is there anything I can help with?”

Fox crawls forward. He drags his hands up my side and pushes his body on top of mine. “Just this,” he growls, low, then takes me in a deep, slow kiss.

Our erections grind together, and my body comes alive. We move deliberately, not rushing as we undress each other, laughing and kissing on the way. Fox gets me onto my belly and loses himself at my hole, licking and rimming me until I beg for his cock. But when we fuck, he spins me around, holding me so we face each other, and our eyes lock when I come.

Everything feels easy and right. The food arrives, and when we’re stuffed, we make our way upstairs. Fox cleans me, and I sit on his bed and watch him finish packing. I fall asleep in his embrace, held and warm, the smooth sheets soft on my naked body, and don’t wake again until the next morning.

After a distracting shared shower that ends in mutual masturbation, Fox feeds us breakfast sandwiches, and we call a car to the airport. It’s not until we’re sitting in the backseat, though, that I realize something. “Shit,” I gasp.

Fox looks up from his phone, where he’s answering emails, and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, cutie?”

“My ID,” I say, showing him my wallet. “I took it out a couple days ago when I was applying for my new license, and I guess I forgot to put it back in.”

“Oh.” Fox frowns. “Shit. Is it at your place?”

“It’s too far to go back. We won’t make the flight.”

Fox shrugs, not bothered. “I’ll get us a different flight.”

“Reggie’s!” I say quickly, then look out the window. “Is this his neighborhood?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My passport is still there. Can we stop?”

I text Reggie first, and he confirms where it’s stashed. I expect to just run in and out of his apartment, but as I pass the dining table, my eyes catch on the mess of junk mail. It’s grown since the last time I was there, and a familiar, pale blue envelope catches my eye.

My heart sinks to my gut. I walk over to the table and fish the envelope out of the mess. It’s my handwriting on the note,to Reggie, from O, and it’s still sealed.

I feel like I’m about to throw up. It’s the letter about me and Fox.

Reggie never even opened it.

Chapter Twenty

Fox

“Goddamn it,”I grunt, staring at the old messages on my phone as Owen and I fly to California. “Reggie, you sentimental fucking puppy dog. Why do you have to be so nice?”

Owen leans closer, looking with me. “I guess he was just feeling really, really good after that emo concert.”

I sigh, trying not to freak out. “I can’t believe his love of emo led to this.”

The overhead light dings on, and the plane bounces. In first class, Owen and I have enough space to spread our legs, but we both lean into the middle, his weight resting against mine.

I should have known better than to accept everything at face value. Reggie’s the kind of guy who will send a bunch of random texts just to tell you that he’s thinking about you. After taking him to an emo concert with his little brother, it’s no surprise he sent us that group text.

He was supporting our friendship, all while we were defiling each other behind his back. Owen grabbed the note, so at least we’ll have another chance to approach him and explain everything, but still…

I just wanted things to be easy for once in my fucking life, but instead, I drove me and Owen straight into another Wilder train wreck.

Owen slips his hand into mine. “I feel like this is my fault.”

Guilt punches my gut. “It’s not,” I correct him quickly, then squeeze his hand. “You didn’t want to talk to Reggie right away. That’s fine. I’m the one who should have tracked him down after you wrote that letter.” I wince and consider ordering a couple of those little bottles of whiskey. “Fuck,” I grunt. “I really just let myself believe what was easy to believe.”

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