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“If I wasn’t about to re-enact the puking cherry scene from The Witches of Eastwick, I’d let you persuade me to fuck against the living room window again,” I whisper sensually—as much as one can do when talking about puke.

“You like the view while I fuck you, babe?” He’s much better at the sensual thing.

“I like seeing our reflection more. But the view is a bonus.”

“What I like isyouin my apartment,” he says when the elevator doors open and we enter his penthouse.

“Yeah?” I’m unable to stop my lips from curving. Going to work in the morning from here is a bitch with all the traffic, but riding the Ducati with Raph makes up for it.

“Yeah. The air carries a hint of your sweat, and something spicy and soft lingers in places you’ve been.”

“It’s the shampoo and body soap you bought for me.”

Raph lowers his head, but instead of kissing me, he licks my cheek. Not a small lick.

But a full flat tongue one.

“Why did you dog kiss me?” I let out an astonished chuckle.

“Pachouli,” he just replies with a hungry smile, looking ready to pounce on me.

“Oh no.” I giggle, and point in warning at his face, while walking backward. “Remember the puking part.”

He doesn’t seem to care and continues prowling toward me. I hurry to the living room and put the couch between us, feeling excitement and anxiousness blend inside my gut—cake too.

“I just want to find out if you’re ticklish, piglet.” Raph stops a foot away from the couch.

“No need. I am very ticklish. So stop whatever you are thinking of doing.”

He seems to follow my pleading, but then he grabs the back of the couch with one hand and jumps, landing right next to me.

I let out a gasp. “I’m serious here, are you Spiderman?”

My phone starts to ring.

Meg’s name appears on the screen, and the light atmosphere turns tense.

“Don’t need to answer that,” he says, losing his smirk. We’ve both been dodging her calls for the last three days. I’m still feeling confused by my conflicting emotions. I’m grateful for what she did for Raph, but upset about being taken away from him; all of them. But grateful again for being given a chance at an ordinary life, and upset again for being let go.

“I know,” I sigh. “But I think it’s time.” I toss my jacket on the sofa and, placing the phone on the table, push the speaker button. At the same time, I grab a pack of chips from the kitchen. Need some salt to balance all that sugar I ate.

“Michael,” a woman’s voice I’ve never heard before comes from the other line.

“Linda,” Raph says. Linda Stone: his mother and Meg’s wife. I thought she was away for work.

“Hey, killer,” she greets him.

“Hello,” I say.

“Michael, the prodigal son, has returned.”

Her words create a strained, deafening silence.

“Too soon?” she asks without an ounce of embarrassment.

“What do you think, Lin?” Meg’s familiar, sarcastic tone makes my lips automatically twitch.

“Sorry,” Linda mumbles. “So. You picked up the phone. That means you’re ready to talk to… us.”