Page 36 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

ROSE

Shit, sorry, honey. I thought it was scrap paper. - S

T hings are weird between me and Sierra.

I should’ve been more careful last night.

I knew better than to snuggle her on the couch, and I sure as hell knew better than to let myself fall asleep with her.

Not only was waking up fucking awkward, but my back is killing me.

Admittedly, it might be my fault it’s awkward considering how quick I was to pull away from her when we woke up, but it was in both of our best interests.

Part of me thought Sierra would suggest going our separate ways as soon as we finished with the lawyer.

Sure, she doesn’t actually have the money yet, but it’s a done deal, and I figured she’d be jumping at the chance to get away.

I might not find out about the promotion for a couple of weeks, but my boss would never know if she moved out.

At this point, I’m not sure what Sierra’s waiting for.

Dinner was nice, and the movie seemed fine, what little I paid attention to anyway, but I didn’t expect Sierra to want to do anything.

And I didn’t expect her to sit beside me, sling her arm around my waist, and cuddle me while we ate our dinner and stared up at the big screen. She seemed perfectly at ease.

So maybe things aren’t weird between me and Sierra. Maybe it’s just me.

“Rose?”

I startle, realizing she’s been talking to me and I’ve just been standing against the door, staring blankly into space. “Sorry, what?”

The edges of her lips lift. “I asked if you want to get the wine, and I’ll feed the monsters?”

She nods to the rug, where Dibbles and Thorne are sitting right on the edge, waiting expectantly. They don’t like the hardwood floor.

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands me a bottle of rosé from the fridge, and I rummage in the utensil drawer for the corkscrew while she leads the bunnies back to their enclosure by shaking a bag of mixed leafy greens.

My hands tremble as I uncork the wine and pour two large glasses. I need to get a hold of myself. The last of the bottle sloshes as I carry it back to the fridge. I open the door and take a second. Just breathe. Relax. It’ll be okay.

Footsteps sound behind me, and Sierra encloses me in her arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Not to sound like my dad, but were you planning on chilling the whole house by keeping the fridge open? It’s November.”

She surprises a laugh out of me and uses the opportunity to close the fridge and tug me away. She lets go of me, and my body immediately misses the warmth of her.

“Come on.” She snags the wine glasses from the island, and leads me toward her bedroom.

I follow her, looking over my shoulder to make sure the bunnies are content.

Sierra kicks her bedroom door open, taking a sip of her wine and pressing the other glass into my hand when I’m close enough.

I open my mouth, looking for a reason, an excuse, to leave and hide away in my room, but I fall short.

I don’t want to leave. I want to be here, with her, for whatever time we have left.

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard over there,” Sierra says, tilting her head and looking over me with concern.

“It’s been a long day.”

She plucks the glass from my hand and sets them both on the dresser. “That it has. C’mere.”

I let her tug me toward the bed, expecting her to lie down and pull me on top of her, but she doesn’t.

Sierra spins me so my back is to the bed and lifts my dress over my head.

She takes care to lay it on a chair, instead of balling it up on the floor, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.

I start to unclip my bra, just for something to do with my hands, but Sierra stops me.

“Let me. ”

She deftly undoes my bra and pulls it off, crouching to push my underwear down and pressing kisses to my shoulder, my stomach, my thighs, as she goes. Her touch is deliberate, but tender, and I close my eyes, memorizing how her fingers and lips feel on my skin.

“Lie down, honey,” she murmurs against my neck, brushing a kiss over my jaw before stepping back.

Her eyes don’t stray from me as I lie down, roaming every inch of my body. She quickly strips and climbs onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. She places her hands on either side of my head, leaning over me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m okay with her being on top.

It’s not either of our usual styles, but I nod, desperate to feel her body on mine.

She swings one of her legs over my thigh until she’s straddling me, then lowers herself so her lips are hovering just above mine.

She’s holding most of her weight off me, and I don’t want that.

I want to feel her. I wrap my arms around her and tug her down as much as I can.

“I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

She lifts herself only slightly, but I still can feel her body pressed against mine, and it’s bliss.

A happy sigh escapes me when our lips touch, and she slips her tongue inside my mouth, meeting mine in a slow dance. It’s unhurried and languid—a far cry from the battle of wills our first kiss was. My bones turn more molten beneath her with every brush of her tongue against mine.

She shifts to get close to me and groans as the movement creates friction between my thigh and her bare pussy. I lift my thigh against her in invitation as she breaks our kiss to press her forehead to mine.

“Oh,” she gasps as she grinds herself against me. “ Rose .”

She reaches between us and drags her middle finger slowly through my lips, then finally lands on my clit. I’m already soaking for her, and she draws lazy shapes over my clit as she grinds against my thigh and litters kisses all over my face.

It’s tender—soft, and slow, and completely out of my comfort zone.

Sierra has a habit of breaking me into pieces and rebuilding me brick by brick, over and over, every time just a little better, a little stronger.

And this time, as she tips me over, shattering me into a thousand fractured shards, I feel myself scattering far and wide.

Sierra rolls her hips and catches my lips in a messy kiss as she comes. I swallow down her moans and cries, coming right alongside her when she pinches my clit between two fingers.

We’re both fighting for air when we pull apart, my chest burning. Sierra sits up, pulling her fingers out from between us.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, as she sees how wet they are. She brings them to her mouth and sighs happily, closing her eyes as she licks them off.

It should be filthy—the sight of her straddling my thigh, licking my wetness from her fingers, but it just makes my heart ache.

When she’s finished, she collapses onto the bed beside me.

As if by instinct, we both roll onto our sides until we’re facing each other.

Sierra’s eyes are half-closed, her cheeks scarlet.

I trace the length of the snake tattoo up her body, dragging my finger up her chest, neck, and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You’re so beautiful.” I don’t mean to say it, but I don’t regret it. The words pop into my head every time I look at her, and I don’t say it enough.

Sierra covers my hand with hers, pressing it against her flaming cheek. “You’ve made me feel so beautiful.”

Made . Past tense. I look up toward the headboard, blinking and swallowing back the tears that threaten my eyes. This is not the time.

“Will you sleep in here tonight?” Sierra asks, and the “yes” leaves my mouth before she’s even finished speaking. Why the hell does this all feel so much like goodbye?

It’s masochistic, and later, I’m going to have to find a way to deal with the consequences, but I’m powerless to say no to her. Sierra has no idea how much power she has here.