8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
P ixie leaned against her kitchen counter, more awake than if she'd downed a carafe of coffee, even though she hadn't tipped back an ounce of caffeine.
All due to last night.
To following Eva's commands, the way she'd wielded humiliation and dominance with a natural skill that seemed too good to be true. Her knees were a little weak from the scene at Play Night. The combination of Fin, Meg, and Eva had been absolute perfection. Except when she'd begun to drop afterward, the disconnect she'd felt with everyone had surged to the fore.
There had been no rhyme or reason—Fin and Meg and Eva had delivered a heap of attention on her, and she should've been happy. Grateful. Instead, her brain had latched onto Meg's talk about going home to Tristan. Everyone would eventually drift out of her life, and the reminder she didn't have someone to stick around at the end of the day had grabbed her by the throat. Micah might be living with her for now, but the writing was already on the wall. He'd be moving in with Parker as soon as the opportunity arose.
As if thinking of Micah summoned him, the door to her apartment creaked open.
He stepped inside, his hair rumpled and a dopey grin on his features he tried to hide. Her prickly friend hated people seeing him happy because he'd spent years donning a mask. She could see the same with Eva, who shoved her feelings under the rug constantly. Where Micah had gotten snarkier with sharper edges from his upbringing, Eva pasted on placid smiles, her competence masking the hurt she dealt with.
Pixie had only received glimpses so far, and she was well aware those were rare.
"How was your date night?" Pixie asked and blew on the steam billowing from her coffee. If she avoided talking about her own evening, that had everything to do with the hum of guilt rising inside her. Micah had stated Eva was off-limits, but he also knew they'd all gone to Play Night.
"Parker didn't take it easy on me in the slightest," Micah said, waggling his brows. Based on the finger-shaped bruises around his exposed shoulder from the too-large shirt he wore, she had an idea of what they'd gotten up to.
If she had a new relationship, she'd be fucking like crazy too. Except that wasn't in the cards for her. It never had been.
"How about Play Night?" Micah sauntered over and grabbed a mug from the cabinet .
Pixie's heart thudded a little harder. Telling Micah the truth should absolve her of this guilt. "I did a scene with Meg and Fin, and Meg invited Eva to participate."
Micah wrinkled his nose. "I know my sister's into kink, but I definitely don't need to hear about that."
Pixie's shoulders relaxed at his lack of a negative reaction. Still, the guilt gripped her chest tight. Eva wasn't anyone she could pursue, yet her thoughts continued to circulate around the woman. At least when she went back to Reno, Pixie could stop fixating on her.
"Well, I enjoyed myself," Pixie said, needing to lighten the conversation.
"You always do," Micah teased, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Her gut twisted because she projected that out there—forever smiling, forever chill—but she just wanted someone to see beneath the surface.
Even though she kept everyone at a distance.
Pure contradiction, she was.
"I'm off today, so I'm going to drag Eva somewhere." Micah took a sip from his coffee. "I've been a shitty brother, spending so much time over at Parker's. She's supposed to be leaving at the end of the week."
The reminder tossed a splash of cold water onto her afterglow.
There was no point in crushing on Micah's superhot older sister. Pixie should be focusing on her own life and what the hell her next steps were. With each passing day, her restlessness had increased, the urge to find some new real estate and relocate one she'd had to fight in the past.
Most times, her mom had needed her, and that responsibility had kept her in the area, but now Maisie was thriving. She didn't need Pixie anymore, and honestly, no one seemed to.
"What are you thinking?" Pixie clutched her mug like a raft to drag her mind to safer waters .
"I don't want to do the shlocky tourist stuff. Maybe I'll ask her what she wants when she gets up."
"Conservatory of Flowers," bubbled up on Pixie's lips before she could help herself. The little details she'd learned from Eva had imprinted on her brain, even though she'd been trying and failing to keep herself at a distance.
Micah's brows lifted. "That's perfect. She adores flowers and green shit in general, and I've been curious about it. Don't suppose you have the day free too?"
She had some freelance graphics on the docket, but the itch to paint was building, and being around all those colorful flowers would tip her well of inspiration right over. Truth be told, being around Eva would make it spill.
Ever since the woman had come to stay with them, Pixie made more progress on her art than she had in the past year, and she was grateful, even if anxiety loomed at what would happen when Eva left.
"Yeah, I can join," Pixie said. Her heart squeezed tight at the thought of tamping down the budding emotions that unfurled whenever Eva was in the room. Guilt tugged close on its heels. Micah wasn't aware of what brewed beneath the surface. Otherwise, he wouldn't be inviting her along.
"Join what?" Eva's low, throaty voice coaxed her pussy to life. The woman strode into the kitchen, wearing those sage-green pajamas that drew her attention to those smooth thighs far too easily. She had been between them last night, a place she could happily live. Her thick auburn hair was up in a ponytail, which somehow looked even hotter than when it was down. Something about her looking so put together just did it for Pixie.
"We're all going out today to the Conservatory of Flowers," Micah said. "I'm done being a shitty brother. "
"Says the person who massacred Gerald." Eva slid next to Pixie and took a mug. Her arm brushed against Pixie's, and the touch sent a jolt straight between her thighs. Before Pixie could figure out if it had been on purpose or not, Eva pulled away and poured herself some coffee from the ever-dwindling carafe. Luckily, Pixie had thought ahead and made the whole twelve-cup.
"Dare I ask who Gerald is?" Pixie asked.
"Her stupid stuffed platypus." Micah rolled his eyes. "I was, like, seven."
"Seven and already showing some dangerous tendencies," Eva said, waggling her brows. "Slashing apart my platypus in a fit of pique."
"Maybe if you had let me play games with you and your friends, I wouldn't have needed to unleash on Gerald."
Pixie's lips quirked as the two went back and forth, and she tried to ignore the twinge in her chest. Sibling dynamics were something she'd always been envious of—steady families in general were—but siblings had never been in the cards for her. It was a miracle she'd survived her childhood in the first place.
"Trust me when I tell you I didn't enjoy the games with those bitches either." Eva wrapped her elegant fingers around her mug, her pink manicure standing out against the cream of the ceramic. "Mom and Dad were choosy with who I spent time with."
"The fucking worst." Micah lifted his coffee in salute.
Pixie's throat tightened. They had each other, even though they'd experienced a garbage situation with their parents. She wanted that so damn badly, someone who understood. Who shared in the hell lived as Maisie went through her ups and downs, good moments Pixie learned to hold close and the bad ones Pixie had survived by the skin of her teeth .
"We should get ready to go," Pixie said, placing her empty cup on the counter. "The Conservatory will be opening soon, so we can get in early." If she stayed around them any longer, she'd be tempted to open her mouth and contribute her own angst to the equation, and no one wanted that.
On rare moments, she'd dropped bombs of her childhood around friends back in college. And every time, they'd immediately put distance between them. She'd understood the truth—she was too fucked up, too damaged to stick around.
She'd come close with Micah and the others at Whipped, letting out little bits here and there. However, she'd swallowed back the worst of what she'd been through. She couldn't bear if they looked at her differently, if they started to distance themselves like all the others had. Only seeing poor, broken Pixie rather than a fucking survivor.
"Sounds good to me," Micah said with a yawn. "Think I have time for a shower?"
"You need one." Eva wrinkled her nose. "You reek of spunk."
"Bet you can't guess why."
Eva thwacked him on the shoulder. "Go, shower now."
Hearing Eva's commanding tone had Pixie paying closer attention on instinct.
Micah scampered down the hallway to the bathroom. Pixie should be moving, but she didn't want to budge, not when Eva stood right next to her, looking hot as sin.
Eva grinned. "I wonder whose idea the Conservatory was."
The space between them seemed like miles and nothing at the same time. Pixie clutched her mug a little tighter as the sound of the shower spray hit her ears. Eva's auburn hair was wet from her shower but neatly combed and tucked into a ponytail. The spark in her eyes, the cleverly arched brow, the curve of her lush lips, fuck, she could spend days drawing this woman's features and not get tired of them.
"I may have mentioned something," she said, running her thumb along the rim of the mug. Eva's eyes tracked the movement, then returned to her face and pinned her in place. All too easily, her throaty, low voice when delivering commands echoed in Pixie's head. How she'd called her dove added the perfect amount of humiliation to make her soaked.
"How are you feeling?" Eva asked, casting a glance to the hallway. The water was still running, though, so Micah wouldn't overhear.
"I'll have you know that wasn't my first rodeo at being fucked and filled by an assortment of Doms."
Eva snorted. "What are we, a box of chocolates?"
"Great for sampling." Pixie winked.
Eva placed her hands on her hips, which were highlighted by the cute-as-fuck skimpy pajama set she wore. "I'm well aware of what you're doing, Pixie Monroe. Meg trusted me, and I don't take that lightly."
Pixie's chest tightened. Right, an obligation. The stupid part of her that had preened under the woman's attention wilted.
Eva brushed her fingertips over Pixie's jaw. "None of that. Even if she hadn't, I'd want to make sure you're okay."
"None of what?" Pixie said, fluttering her lashes. What was this woman, a mind reader?
"You realize you've got tells, right?" Eva let her fingertips rest along her jawline. Electricity coursed through her from the touch alone. "Not only are your eyes expressive, but your lower lip juts out a bit when something trips you up. "
Her heart did a somersault. Eva had observed details about her she hadn't even been aware of herself. The realization she'd paid that close attention to her wasn't helping tamp down the flames of her crush.
"So answer me, dove." Eva's voice was soft but firm, and the pet name did her in.
"I'm feeling good. I got a little detached in the aftermath last night, but our time on the couch helped."
Eva had held her on the couch for hours, stroking her hair, drawing lazy circles on her skin. With her group of friends, she wasn't short on cuddle time, but somehow, having it in her own space with no defined end in sight had felt more intimate than normal.
"I'm glad," Eva said, her voice husky. Pixie's core throbbed.
The shower shut off, and Eva dropped her hand from Pixie's face.
Disappointment thudded through her, but that was pure foolishness. Eva was Micah's sister.
"I better go get ready." Pixie took a step back—from the heat, from the tense air between them, from the alluring scent of the woman, like peaches.
She turned around and headed for her bedroom, Eva's stare pressing into her like fingertips on her skin.
Eva was off-limits, and she needed to remember that.