free of a woman Sean's age who isn't done with his bullshit.
Sean checks his cell. "She's in the bathroom. Loves to fix her makeup. A lot like you."
"Uh-huh." I try to ignore his women, huh tone.
He refuses to drop it. "You look good, Luna. Still dressed to kill."
"Thanks." I know it's not a compliment, but I take it as one anyway.
"And your hair," he says. "The silver suits you. And it looks good short too. Probably less high-maintenance."
Anyone listening would think he's doling out compliments. But I know better.
I know what he means: Are you ever going to grow up? Act like a lady. Dress like a lady.
Of course, I had to dump you. I can't deal with a woman who's so much. Can't you do one thing normally? One time?
Do you really have to ask so much at every opportunity?
It's just hair, for fuck's sake! Do something normal with it! You really think this punk rock pixie thing is cute?
"Yeah." Oliver just smiles at him. "I like her new cut too. Sexy, don't you think?"
Sean clears his throat.
"Mmm." Oliver makes a show of running his fingers over my neck. "I love it. Especially love it in my hands when Luna is coming on my cock."
Sean's jaw drops.
"Or, fuck—Guess I don't have to tell you how good she is with her mouth." Oliver smiles, pure serenity. "It was good to see you, Sean. Glad you haven't changed." He presses his palm into my lower back.
I'm too frozen to move.
Guess I don't have to tell you how good she is with her mouth.
"Angel? The coffee?" He presses harder. "We should grab it now."
"I want to…" Did he… Did I…
Oh my god.
Sean stares at us, dumbstruck.
"Luna." Oliver slides his arm around my waist. He pulls me closer. Pulls me with him as he takes a step toward the cafe. "See you later, Sean."
Sean stares.
I let Oliver lead me.
I…
He…
What…
Guess I don't have to tell you how good she is with her mouth.
My thighs shake. My toes curl. My breath hitches.
I don't even like—
"Luna? Do you want the coffee?" Oliver lowers his voice to a near whisper. "Your ex is still looking."
"Yeah." I keep my eyes on the cafeteria line. All sorts of weird foods. And the coffee right there. In the middle.
I take a step toward it.
Oliver follows. "Are you okay?"
"Did you really say that?" My gaze flits to his eyes. My cheeks flush immediately.
"Say what?"
"That you… that I…"
"That you're good at giving head?"
"You used different words."
"You want me to repeat that?" He chuckles, but it's not his usual above it all tone. It's almost… nervous.
"Do you think about that?"
"You don't want me to answer that." He stops at the machine. Grabs two cups. Motions to the options. Dark and light roast. "Dark?"
"Yeah."
He fills the cup to the top.
"You were just saying that, right?" My hand brushes his as I take the cup. "You don't really think about me—"
He cuts me off. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
Chapter Fifteen
Luna
Do you really want me to answer that?
Right. We're sane people. We aren't talking about how I caught him fucking himself.
We aren't discussing what he imagines when he fucks himself.
And, really, he should be more generous in his fantasies. I mean, sure, they're his fantasies. He can think whatever he wants.
And it's not as if I dislike that particular activity.
I mean, I don't really like it. But I could. In theory.
It's just Sean was too aggressive. And I have a sensitive gag reflex. And he was never grateful. It was like he expected me to blow him just because he existed.
Is Oliver the same way?
Or does he groan a thank you so deep and needy it makes my sex clench—
"Luna." He cuts me off again. "I'm gonna stand next to you until his 'girlfriend' shows up."
"Yeah." Right. I'm standing here, holding this cup of coffee. And Sean is sitting at a table, waiting, pretending not to watch us.
"We aren't talking about it."
"Right." I nod.
"So you should make it less obvious you're thinking about it."
"You're the one who said—"
"Pissed him off, didn't it?"
My gaze flits to Sean. He's staring at his phone, all pouty and frustrated. That why can't you understand what I want look of his.
Was he always this irritating? Or is it just that he decided I was too much work?
The only guy I ever loved—my boyfriend of eighteen months—deemed me difficult.
Too hard to please.
Too demanding.
Too…
I'm not even sure. Just that he did the math and arrived at the conclusion Luna isn't