Page 58 of Some Like It Fox

He’s insatiable.

But so am I.

I am going to be sore tomorrow, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him to stop.

His eyes search mine. “You don’t want your family to know about us?”

I put a hand on his cheek, reading the insecurity in his expression, in the careful lilt of his words. “I’m just trying to save us both from the fallout. I don’t want to make things weird for you when I’m gone. Besides, they would be so obnoxious if they knew anything was going on between us.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dipping down my body, masking a flash of hurt. “No. You’re right. It’s best if we keep things just between us.”

The thought of causing Atticus even an iota of pain tears me up. But before I can say anything, talk it out with him, his mouth traces a fiery path down my chest, lingering over my sensitive nipples, the scruff of his jaw abrading my skin in the most delicious way.

“Since you mentioned eating, I am hungry.” His head lifts from my breasts. “How much time do we have?”

I can barely speak. What is time? I don’t even care. “Lots. Lots of time.”

“Good.” Then he moves lower and proceeds to show me how he is very hungry indeed.

ChapterSixteen

Taylor

“I’m booking solo acts right now, and you would be perfect.” I’m in Veronica’s office, my phone pressed to my ear. The same position I’ve spent most of my days lately, eyeballing the dry erase calendar I stuck on the wall. It’s where I’ve been keeping track of the employees’ schedules along with the live music dates and times.

“I don’t know, Taylor, do you think it would be worth it? Whitby is such a small venue.” Derek is a soulful singer, absolutely amazing once you get him onstage, but a hot mess behind the scenes. I met him at a dive bar in New Orleans three years ago. He was having a full-blown panic attack in a back alley, and I convinced him to get on the stage and kill it. And he did. We’ve been friends ever since.

He has a midsize but loyal fanbase that grows daily, and he’s done some smaller festivals, like Firefly and High Sierra.

“I’ve confirmed A.J. Fullerton will be here both nights and I know what he likes. He is going to love you. I also invited Caroline Gray.” A.J. is a producer and Caroline is an influencer with almost a million followers.

At Derek’s continued silence, I add, “Plus I’m offering a cut of alcohol sales for the night. I’m only scheduling for the next two weekends. Friday and Saturday from seven to nine. Are you in or out?”

He blows out a gusty breath. “Okay. I’m in.”

I punch a fist into the air, relief flooding through me. I only need to find one more act. I give him more details about the gig and where he can stay while he’s in town and whatnot and then we hang up.

Using a blue marker, I fill in his date on the calendar and step back and look over the work I’ve done for the past week with satisfaction.

It’s been a whirlwind of phone calls and texts, planning and scheduling, while also working and trying to fit in sleeping and eating wherever feasible.

I haven’t had a chance to do more than a quick read of the details Georgia emailed me about Mom.

Apparently, there was a woman who lived and worked in Boylesville, Pennsylvania, who had her name legally changed fifteen years ago from Rebecca Fox to Dawn Cooper.

The address Georgia sent me is for an antique store. The owner might know her. I’ll have to stop by during business hours, maybe next week.

Normally, I would be jumping at the chance to follow another trail that might lead to answers. But right now, the thought of following the lead doesn’t excite me.

I shove the thought away. I have to get back to work.

I’ve been swamped, but the work has been gratifying. I’ve actually been enjoying myself, which isn’t something I ever thought possible. Liking work? Who does that?

The only downside is I haven’t spent much time alone with Atticus since our hike and the mind-blowing afternoon of orgasms that followed.

I’ve never had one man so focused on my pleasure, like it’s his singular goal in life.

As of yesterday, his family is back in town for his cousin’s birthday so we have nowhere to hook up except the back of his truck, where we’ve managed to spend a few minutes here and there making out like teenagers, which has only succeeded in sharpening the lust to a razor’s edge.

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