Page 25 of On My Side (Quiblings #3)

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. Tell me.” Because if the reason she’s not listening is the same reason recording has been a completely different experience, I may pass out.

“I don’t know. It’s not you. Or your scripts. But whenever I try to listen, and Sky… I mean, you start speaking, it’s not the same. It doesn’t give me what it used to, and I can’t…” She trails off, avoiding my gaze.

Can’t what? Get turned on? Orgasm? Stand the sound of my voice? Can’t what ?

I take another step towards her and lean in until my mouth is next to her ear, just to test something. I’m a data-driven man, and I need proof before I act.

“What if,” I breathe into her ear, “I told you recording them doesn’t feel the same anymore, either?” Her breath hitches. When she doesn’t step back or shove me away, I take it as a good sign.

“What would you do if I told you I think of you when I’m recording?

That when Sky talks about the filthy, terrible things he wants to do, I wish it were me telling you the things I want to do to you.

Not Sky. Not a listener. Me and you. What would you do if I told you I think about the sounds you made when you came, as I fuck my hand in the shower?

What if I told you that maybe I’m a bad guy, because I love spending time with you and being your friend, but it’s never enough for me? I want so much more with you.”

Audrey stumbles backward and I reach out and grab her forearm to steady her. Once she’s stable, I let go and take a step back, shame washing over me.

Too far. I misread the situation and made her uncomfortable and ruined everything and…

“What would I do?” she asks. “If you told me that? You want to know what I’d do?”

I rub my St. Anthony medal between my fingers, staring at the one of the few pumpkins scattered on the porch. I really fucked up. “Audrey, I—”

“I’d tell you to prove it.”

My neck snaps up and I meet her dilated eyes. Her chest is heaving, and I almost come in my pants again when she swipes her tongue along her lower lip. “You’d… what?” I wheeze.

“I’d tell you to prove you meant what you said,” she says, taking a step closer to me. “You say pretty words all the time to countless listeners, and I need to know it’s more than words. I need to know I’m not a faceless listener to you. I need to know it’s me and you.”

I don’t know if it’s her voice, which is somehow steady and needy at the same time, or her saying my name that breaks my resolve, but something does. I take a step forward, cup her waist and pull her close enough our noses brush.

Please mean it . I internally beg. Please don’t want him. Please want me.

“Prove it, Ren,” she whispers, and it’s game over.

I press my lips to hers and god, she’s so ready for me, immediately kissing me back with the same fervor as that night two months ago.

She tastes like the cinnamon and nutmeg I used in the apple pie, feels like sin and heaven coexisting.

She brings her hand to my cheek, running her thumb along my jaw bone as I nip at her lower lip.

Her mouth parts on a gasp and I take the opportunity to let one of my hands slip beneath her shirt, the warmth of her lower back a stark contrast to the chill of the autumn breeze.

I can hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance, and I could never write a script as good as this.

I break our kiss and press open mouth kisses down her jaw, and her neck. She moans softly and fists my hair, pulling enough it hurts fucking good .

She lifts her free hand to her collarbone, pulling back the collar of her oversized Luke’s Diner t-shirt to expose more soft skin. “So Piper can’t see.”

I pull away and meet her eyes, breath heavy and cock heavier. “You want me to…”

“Mark me. Please, Ren,” she breathes.

My mouth is on the soft skin between her collarbone and shoulder blade before she finishes saying my name.

I want to give this woman everything she wants, but especially this.

Especially something that will make sure she can’t pretend this didn’t happen, that this isn’t real.

Her gasps and sighs while I suck at her skin egg me on, and I’m not embarrassed to say the odds of me coming in my pants again are high as hell.

Until the sound of glass shattering echoes from inside the cottage.

Audrey loosens her grip on my hair, and I freeze, mouth still on her skin.

“Uh, Mom?” Piper calls nervously after a few moments of silence.

“Be right there!” Audrey answers as I groan and straighten, taking a brief moment to admire the hickey already forming before she adjusts her collar. “I’m sorry, I have to…”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” I promise, cupping her face and briefly pressing my lips to her forehead. “It’s fine.”

She quickly pecks me on the cheek before spinning around and going back inside the house.

I stare at the wreath on her door for a good ten seconds, trying to process what happened because holy shit.

Holy shit . She wants me. Me . Not the concept of Sky, but me . Her friend.

The smile spreading across my face is gradual and bright and before I know it, I must look creepy as hell, a full grown man beaming at a door.

I spin on my heel and pump my fist because Audrey fucking Hinton wants me . Then I’m leaping off the stairs like a ballerina and ending on a twirl and…

Audrey’s holding the door open and staring at me, eyes wide.

I clear my throat and shove my hands in my pockets because I am manly and cool about this.

“Um, Piper broke your pie pan,” she says after a few moments of silence.

“No worries, it was thrifted.” Is my voice gruff? I hope my voice is gruff and she never mentions what she saw because that would be embarrassing as hell. I have to keep some of my dignity.

But her smile is as bright as the stars above us and she’s giggling. Her eyes glisten—not like she knows a secret no one else does, but because she and I are the only ones who do. “Me too,” she says, and I stare at her in confusion. “I feel like that, too.”

My smile is as bright as hers and our happiness seems to reflect each other's.

“Good night, Ren,” she finally says.

“Good night, Audrey.”

I smile the entire drive home.