Page 68 of Breadwinner
There was no venom in her statement, only her truth. Nell always welcomed the truth.
“It’s too much, to the point of being obscene. Does one person really need all that money?”
Sarah reached forward, pouring herself another glass of water from the pitcher, and Nell watched her lips as they puckered around the edge of the glass before she continued speaking words Nell was no longer hearing. Her words, however undoubtedly important, were nothing compared to watching her lips shape syllables with such conviction. It was intoxicating, and she wanted to feel the softness of Sarah’s lips on her skin again.
Focus on what she’s saying.“I think,” Nell said slowly, almost dreamily, and she leaned forward, taking Sarah’s chin and tilting her mouth toward her own. “I think you might be on to something.”
Sarah blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”
She nodded as she pressed her lips to Sarah’s. Yup. Just as soft and perfect as they had been minutes—possibly hours—ago on the dance floor, but still, Nellalwaysenjoyed confirmation.
Their kiss was languid, meandering, and lazy as they followed their impulses, tongues volleying for dominance. When they finally broke apart for air, Sarah was looking at her with fire in her eyes.
“How do you make it feel like taking risks is no big deal?” Sarah whispered, close enough Nell could feel the words againsther lips. She tightened her hold on Sarah’s waist. “I want to take another risk.”
“And what might that be?” Nell asked, her throat tightening in anticipation.
“I want you to fuck me, right here. In this booth,” she said, with lethal seriousness. “I need you, Nell. I need to have you, right now.”
Nell glanced around their booth, judging the level of privacy granted to them by the drawn curtains. Private-ish, she determined. Doable if they were quick. And besides, she had asked Nate to make sure they weren’t going to be interrupted.
Her body answered before her brain could send words to her mouth, as she pulled Sarah onto her lap, pushing her skirt up ever so slightly, allowing Sarah enough relief from the constricting fabric to straddle her. Sarah’s ask was bold and brazen, but God, the way she had asked... How the fuck was Nell supposed to say no to her?
She reached out, gently cupping the back of Sarah’s neck, pulling her mouth to her own, devouring her in one breath. “I love being risky with you,” she murmured hot against Sarah’s mouth, her fingers slipping under the hem of Sarah’s skirt and past her underwear in one fluid movement, diving into her heat as the rest of the club disappeared and the sound of the music faded around them.
The next morning, the villa’s kitchen was quiet, sunlight warming the marble countertops, as citrus and rosemary curled through the air from the breakfast tray the butler was laying out. Nell sat perched at the end of the oversized island, barefoot in silk pajamas, her laptop open in front of her, a glass of greenjuice beside it, and an IV drip in her arm delivering hydration, vitamins, and a cocktail of whatever else her body needed to bounce back from the night before.
She was already on her second meeting of the morning and barely listening to anything Rowan was saying to her on their videocall. Her eyes moved over spreadsheets and projections, her focus hazy, but her hands still typed with a certain efficiency.
“You’re in for a busy next few weeks,” Rowan said, “but then you have a little break around the holidays. You and Nate still taking your usual trip?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Nell said distractedly. “Rowan, I’m sending over one adjustment to next week’s schedule. Please make that update. Could you please also reach out to Senator Fairchild and schedule a dinner for us? We have some things to continue discussing following last night’s conversations.”
Rowan nodded before disconnecting the call.
A low groan echoed from the hallway.
“I don’t know how to describe it,” Sarah’s voice rasped, “but myeyeballshurt.”
Nell looked up in time to see Sarah shuffle in, wearing an oversized Stanford Law T-shirt and sleep shorts that left very little to the imagination. She collapsed into the seat beside her, face half buried in her arms.
“How are you working right now?” Sarah grumbled.
Nell lifted a hand and made a small summoning motion to the woman standing quietly off to the side—a discreet, navy-clad nurse on call.
Sarah squinted. “Are you serious? Oh my God, is that an IV?”
“You’ll thank me in five minutes,” Nell said, her eyes still on her laptop.
“See, I told you. Your life doesn’t feel real. Who has a nurse on call?” Sarah winced as the nurse got to work. “This is the most aggressively luxurious hangover cure I’ve ever experienced.”
“I can assure you my life is very much real,” Nell said, closing her laptop as the butler set down two steaming plates of lemon-ricotta pancakes, berries, and scrambled eggs.
Sarah looked at her with an eyebrow raised as if to say,Normal people don’t have butlerservice, but she still caught the way Sarah sat up straighter, already reaching for a fork, clearly enjoying the experience.
“So, what’s the plan for today? Please tell me it involves horizontal lounging, no flashing lights, and maybe a few spa services,” Sarah said hopefully.
Nell poured herself another glass of water. “Sadly, none of the above. We’re going to the Formula 1 race.”