Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

Standing on the corner of Canal and Royal, he cocked his head to the side. "True."

I really had no idea how to part ways from this point, and I felt like I could give a class on awkward. I could see the cab coming and I glanced at Ren. "Well, I guess I'll . . . see you on Monday then?"

A slight smile appeared. "Sure."

My eyes narrowed as the cab pulled up to the curb. Opening the back door, I stopped. "Where are you staying?"

"I'm renting a place over in the warehouse district."

I was relieved to hear he wasn't sleeping on the streets. Not knowing what else to say, I waved goodbye and climbed into the cab. I gave the driver my address, and not a minute afterward, my cell dinged.

I pulled it out of my back pocket, noticing that it was from a number I didn't recognize, and all it said was thank you.

Curious, I typed back who is this?

The response was immediate. Ren

Oh. I'd forgotten he'd seen my number in the file and honestly hadn't considered that he saved it even though he said he'd called me. I hadn't even checked to see if he had, so I did just then. There was a missed call Friday night from the same number. I typed back what are you thanking me for?

No response came by the time I made it to my apartment, but I saved his number, and it was a little weird entering his name when I realized I didn't know what his last name was.

UPS must've been to my house after I'd left, and I stopped to pick up two boxes. Carrying them inside, I placed them on the chair just inside the door.

Tink was in the kitchen when I walked in, nibbling on a praline that was the size of a pizza compared to him. "Hey! You're back. And you didn't get shot." Lowering a chunk of candy that he held, he frowned up at me as I dropped my keys on the counter beside him. "You weren't shot again, right?"

"No."

He raised the piece of candy as if he was toasting me then shoved it in his mouth. How he stayed in shape was beyond me. Jumping to his bare feet, he placed his hands on his narrow hips. "You know what I've been thinking?"

"Yeah?" I yawned, reaching up and tugging out the bobby pins.

"That guy that was in here last night?" He picked up the pin I'd placed on the counter and twirled it like a baton as he marched back and forth. "I think you want to get it on with him."

"Uh. What?" Moving my fingers through my hair, I eased the knots of curls. "What in the world makes you think that?"

"You left the house with him even after he obviously broke in. I'm telling you what, you females are freaks. Guys break in and you all swoon like B&E is a desirable trait," he ranted, still twirling the hot pink pin. "Females of my kind? If you did that they'd eat you for dinner. And not in the fun way. They'd start off by eating the man parts." He grabbed his junk as if I needed a visual aid. "And then they'd—"

"Okay. I get it. First off, I don't think breaking into my apartment is something to swoon about. I don't think most girls do. Secondly, Ren didn't break in, because someone," I pointed at him, "left the French doors unlocked."

His eyes widened. "I did no such thing."

I arched a brow.

"Okay. I might've done that, but he climbed a wall to get in, and that's kind of . . . well, that's actually kind of impressive." He lifted the pin, shaking it at me. "I bet that means he could pick you up and—"

"Oh my God, Tink, really? He's a member of the Order. He's new to the area. And he's apparently impatient and didn't want to wait for me to return his call. Does that mean we're going to get naked and pretend to make babies? No." An odd sense of disappointment washed over me, and I pushed the sensation away. "So not going to happen. And I'm not talking about sex with you."

The pin clattered when he dropped it on the counter, and he rose into the air so I was eye level with his bronze chest. "Let's talk about sex."

"No." Rolling my eyes, I walked away.

"Sex is good!"

"Shut up, Tink."

"Sex is fun!" he continued to shout.

I shook my head. "The only thing you're having sex with is inanimate objects, so what do you know?"

He ignored me. "Sex is best when it's one on one!"

Stopping in the hall, I turned to where he was doing a pelvic thrust. "Isn't that a George Michael song?"

"Maybe. But he was wrong. I like to think sex is best when it's like three on three or something. Seems more adventurous."

"Whatever. Goodnight, Tink."

I closed the door as he broke out in a Salt-n-Pepa song. "You're living in the wrong decade, Tink!" I yelled through the door then giggled when it sounded like he kicked it and went into a fit of curse words.

After getting ready for bed, it took a while for me to get to the point where I could doze off, and when I finally did sleep, I dreamed I wasn't alone in the bed, that there was a hard male body pressing against the length of mine. Hands were everywhere, touching me softly, caressing me in places that were far too intimate, and in ways that I had little experience with. I heard my name, the voice sounding familiar, and I thought I caught a glimpse of deep brown waves, but I couldn't be sure, and I was too lost in the dream to really pay attention or care. My lips were kissed. My body was kissed in the way I was touched, and I could feel silky hair between my fingers as I grasped his head, holding him to me, guiding his mouth to where I wanted—

I woke suddenly, thrust out of the dream and into the real world. An empty bed. No hands or mouth doing decadent and delightfully naughty things. No soft hair gliding between my fingers. I was alone as I stared up at the ceiling, seeing the thin slivers of dawn sneaking through the small gap in the curtains, but my body hadn't recognized that. I felt feverish. Sheets were twisted around my waist. My breasts felt heavy and the tips hard, sensitive against the thin cotton of my shirt. Between my thighs, I ached in a way that felt entirely unfair, and dimly I realized I hadn't been this aroused since Shaun.

Honestly, I didn't think I was ever this turned on by anything we'd done. Not that there had been anything wrong between us, but we were young when we took our childhood friendship and turned it into something more. We fooled around a lot in the first two years, but he . . . Shaun had been a good guy, and he respected Holly and Adrian to the point where I was the one to push the issue. It wasn't until we were eighteen when we had sex, and that was only once. It was good and nice, sweet and awkward in all the ways first times could be when you were with someone who cared so strongly about you. I imagined if we'd been given more time, it would feel like this—like my body was aflame and I'd go crazy if I didn't find release.

I slipped my right hand under the sheets, hesitating as my fingers brushed the band on my shorts. I hadn't done anything since Shaun, not even this. I hadn't been enticed to do it, and on the rare occasion when I wanted to, it hadn't felt right. Like I was betraying Shaun somehow, and I realized how dumb that was. But grief twisted things. I knew that.

I bit my lip then let it pop out. Drawing in a shallow breath, I slipped my hand under the band. My stomach fluttered, softly at first, and then deeper. I closed my eyes as I extended my arm.

My breath quickened then caught as the tips of my fingers glided through the wetness and unerringly found the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. A shot of pure electricity lit through my veins as my hips jerked. A soft cry pushed past my lips. I knew what to do. I'd done this before. I'd actually done it with Shaun while we'd existed in the no-sex zone.

But it had been so long.

I ran a finger up my center, and my back arched in response. My toes curled. Without warning, an image of Ren appeared in vivid detail, bright green eyes and a full, sinful mouth. I didn't want to think of him and I attempted to wash his image from my thoughts, but it lingered in the background, and my hips were moving against my hand. The fire inside me was flaming and I was burning hotter and hotter. I tried to keep his image at bay, desperate to not think of him as the ache built and the pressure coiled inside me. My hips rocked, and I pushed my head back against the pillow, los

ing control of my thoughts. In my fantasy, my hand wasn't my own. My thighs weren't tightening around my hand—but his. They weren't my fingers. The tension broke; like a cord pulled too tight, it snapped, the release whipping out through me. I barely swallowed the cry as my body and thoughts shattered into blissful little pieces.

I collapsed back on the bed, my thighs relaxing and my heart rate slowing from its frantic pace. I was staring at the ceiling again, but this time I was wondering why I hadn't done this in three years.

If I woke up every morning like this I'd probably be a better person.

Breaths shallow, I closed my eyes and let the peace drift through my muscles as I told myself I hadn't been thinking of Ren on purpose while I did that. It was purely accidental it was him that appeared in my thoughts. After all, it made sense since he was the last dude I'd seen, not counting Tink. Seeing him in my mind while I . . . while I did that didn't mean anything.

Not a damn thing.

~

I texted Val in the morning, knowing we needed to talk, and I met her at Lafayette Cemetery at noon. The location was her choice. She claimed the peace of the tombs helped her think. She was weird like that, but I loved her enough to make the twenty-minute walk to the oldest of the cities of the dead that existed in New Orleans.

Most people knew not to venture into the cemeteries once night came, but it was usually fine to roam about during the day, especially since they were typically staffed at that time and there were tours in and out.