Chapter 2

Well. Fuck.

Bex is still grinning, like the last words out of her mouth didn't hit me so hard in the chest they almost made me physically stagger backward.

Livvy. Bex's little sister.

I never would have guessed. Bex's little sister, who always hid when I came around and maybe only ever said two words to me, is the woman I've been thinking about all night? Of course, it's been a long time, and she clearly isn't a kid anymore.

She doesn't look anything like I remember. Except for the eyes. She has the same eyes. They were too big and round for her face back then, but not now. Now, they fit perfectly. Bright green in the middle, turning to emerald, then a golden brown along the edges. They're still big, surrounded by dark lashes. Exquisite. I can't decide if they're her best feature or if it's her adorably pouty mouth.

Now that I think about it, I see her and Bex's resemblance. Except for their coloring, they could be twins. Bex has blonde hair, blue eyes, and dimples. Livvy has brown hair, green eyes, and freckles. But their features are almost identical—their little sloped noses, round eyes, pouty lips, and heart-shaped faces.

I'd never forget a face like that. Again, I mean.

"Livvy, you remember Noah, right? We dated back in high school."

"Yes. Yes, I do," Livvy says to Bex.

So, she knew who I was. Interesting. She was toying with me. The idea makes my defenses prickle at the same time it brings a grin to my lips.

"Another vodka-cran?" Bex asks.

"Water for me," Livvy says.

"Me, too," I say. Wood is already chatting up some brunette at the end of the bar, putting that charming smile to work.

Bex scoops two glasses full of ice then starts filling our waters. Livvy keeps her eyes forward, watching her sister. She doesn't want to look at me. It's cute.

Bex sets the waters down, condensation already dripping down to the bar.

"I thought you lived out of state. Are you just visiting?" I ask her.

"I just graduated and moved back. I didn't realize you two still hung out." She's still only facing Bex, her words clipped. Is she annoyed with me? I almost chuckle at the thought, my smile growing.

"Just the last few years or so," I say.

"Macy and I met Wood in college, at a frat party, of all things," Bex laughs as she pours some tequila shots. "Turns out he's Noah's cousin. They live together on the top floor of this building, and Noah tattoos next door."

Bex turns, showing off the intricate tattooed cluster of flowers cascading down her shoulder. "He did this for me. He's all right." Bex smirks. "When he's not being a dick."

"And so are you," I say. "When you're not being a bitch."

We smile at each other while she flips me off and says, "Love you, too."

Livvy looks up at me, finally. "Her tattoo is gorgeous. You do really nice work."

"Thanks."

"I've been thinking about getting something for a little while, actually." She looks away after she says it, her thick lashes fanning against her pink cheeks.

"Do you have any tattoos?"

"No."

The thought of giving her her first tattoo, of marking her virgin skin, makes my chest tighten and my dick harden.

What the fuck, Dixon?

"Well, you can come by. Anytime," I say coolly, like the thought of it isn't inexplicably turning me on.

"Okay," she says. "Have you done any of your own tattoos?"

"Yes."

"Can I see?"

I run my tongue along the edges of my teeth. "They're on my thighs."

"Oh," she says, her eyes widening.

Her plump lips stay parted as her cheeks blush a light pink. And now I'm wondering what shade of pink she turns when her whole body is flushed.

Fuck.

If only she wasn't my ex's little sister.

It's late when I get home, as usual. The last several days at work have been exhausting. I did a six-hour shoulder piece today. My back hurts. And I just want to talk to her.

I check my phone. No messages.

It's been almost a week since I've heard from her.

I toss my keys on the stainless steel countertop and slam my phone down next. The sound echoes around the kitchen and rings in my ears.

"What's up, bro?" Wood saunters out of his room. He's wearing loose gray sweats, no shirt.

"She's not online. Still."

"Ah," he says, getting a sports drink out of the fridge. "The girl of your dreams."

"A Gatorade? At midnight?"

"Got to replenish those electrolytes after cardio." He winks.

Of course. "You can't give me crap for my online girl when you have a different one every week."

"Touché." He takes a big swig of his drink. "But at least I put myself out there. Leave it to you to stay conveniently closed off to love in real life, only to become completely obsessed with some anonymous girl online."

"I'm not obsessed." I am.

"You don't even know what she looks like, bro."

"I don't have to."

"She could be, like, an old lady or something."

"Her profile says she's twenty-one." It's the only piece of personal information on either of our profiles.

"Dude. It's the internet. People lie. She could literally be a man."

I throw my keys at his head. He easily dodges, and they clash with a metallic ring on the concrete floor.

"Am I wrong?" He laughs nervously while scanning my immediate area for anything else I might throw.

I grunt.

"Instead of pouring your heart out and telling all your deepest darkest secrets to this mystery person, maybe you should, I don't know, go talk to a therapist and then go out and make a real-life connection with someone."

I glare at Wood for a good minute. "I went to a therapist for four years after the accident. It didn't help as much as talking to her the last eight months has. And I don't want a real-life connection."

I'm not even going to think about how the first woman to catch my eye in over a year turned out to be Bex's little sister, who used to spy on us making out in my car after curfew.

"I wouldn't be good for anyone right now," I add.

"Not with that attitude." He takes a last chug of Gatorade, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then puts it back in the fridge. "Speaking of real-life connections…could you do me a favor?"

"What kind of favor?"

He lowers his voice. "I just need you to introduce yourself to my lady friend when she comes out."

"Forgot her name?"

"It's Cindy or Cynthia or something like that."

He has that pleading look—the one that's annoyingly sincere. I roll my eyes, but say, "Okay."

Cindy/Cynthia emerges from Wood's room a few minutes later in ripped jeans and a loose sweater. She looks like his usual type – tall, long hair, pretty smile.

"Ready to go?" Wood asks.

She nods then spots me sitting at the counter. She blushes when I nod her direction and then quickly looks away.

I get that reaction a lot. Sometimes I make people uncomfortable. Or they think I'm intimidating with all my tattoos. I also don't have an easygoing smile like Wood.

He jerks his chin in her direction, widening his eyes in plea.

I stand and take a step toward her, putting out my hand. "I'm Noah."

She still seems unable to make eye contact for more than a second at a time. "Um, I'm Madison."

Behind her, Wood silently snaps his fingers and mouths, "Of course!"

My phone dings on the counter. That pathetic little pang of hope surges through me. I snatch it and the screen lights up with a message notification.

It's her.

"I know that look," Wood says with a little chuckle in his voice.

I want to tell him to mind his own business, but he's right. I'm already grinning like an idiot at just the sight of her name—or, screen name, I guess. My heart pumps harder.

"Shut up," I say, walking toward my room as I open the app on my phone.

"Tell Angel I say hi!" he calls.

"She doesn't even know you exist."

"Dude. I'm devastated."

I shut the door behind me, my fingers unable to open her message fast enough.

ANG3L:

Hey you

2Horned:

Oh there you are

ANG3L:

Sorry I've been MIA

2Horned:

That's okay. I knew you were busy

ANG3L:

Yeah, moving sucks. But I'm finally settled

2Horned:

I'm happy for you

ANG3L:

How have you been?

2Horned:

I'm alive

ANG3L:

That's good. I'm not into necrophilia

2Horned:

Jesus fucking Christ

I send several crying laughing emojis.

ANG3L:

What? Should I not have said that?

Just being honest *adorable shrug*

2Horned:

You always are (honest and adorable)

I've missed you

ANG3L:

Miss me or my dirty mouth?

2Horned:

Both. Always both

Fuck, she sends a stupid little smirking face and I'm already getting hard. She's in a playful mood and, honestly, I don't give a fuck if we sext tonight or not. I'm happy just talking and knowing she's around and hasn't ghosted me.

But I'm also not going to turn her down if she wants to take things there.

2Horned:

I've thought about you every day

ANG3L:

Oh yeah? And where exactly were you when you were thinking of me?

2Horned:

Hmm…at work. In the shower. In bed.

I adjust my hard-on as it starts getting uncomfortable, straining in the confines of my jeans.

ANG3L:

Are you in bed now?

2Horned:

Yes

I unbutton my pants, throw my phone on the bed, and pull my shirt off like it's an Olympic sport. I drop trou, boxers too, my erection bobbing out in front of me, already pulsing and hot. I leap into bed, slipping between the sheets with zero grace. Zero chill. My heartbeat erratic.

ANG3L:

Naked?

2Horned:

Yes ma'am

ANG3L:

Good boy

I respond with the sweating, panting emoji.

ANG3L:

Stroke yourself for me

2Horned:

I am

I'm throbbing in my hand. I squeeze the base of my shaft and give it one long stroke.

Fuck.

I hadn't realized how much it was aching until my fist slides over the tip. I groan, rubbing the end of my cock as it gets thicker and harder, the sensitive head red and swollen. What I wouldn't give to have another warm, soft body next to me right now.

2Horned:

It'd be better if it were your hand right now

Or mouth

ANG3L:

I'd make it feel so good for you

2Horned:

What are you doing right now?

ANG3L:

I'm in bed, too. Touching myself through my lace panties

2Horned:

Fuck

I wish I could see her. I want to know what she looks like. Her face, her body, a fucking ankle, I don't care. If I could see her lips, parted in pleasure, hear the little sounds and gasps she makes while she touches herself, see her fingers playing between her legs—I'd never recover. Even just the idea is pushing me closer to the edge, my abs flex in anticipation of release.

But she has strict rules about remaining completely anonymous. No pictures, no videos, no sharing details that could give away our identities.

She's at my fingertips yet untouchable. Un-have-able. Maybe that's why I want her so much.

ANG3L:

Imagine me, while you're stroking yourself crawling over your body and straddling your head. Your face crushed between my thighs

2Horned:

Yes. Sit on my face I need to taste you

ANG3L:

Should I ride your face until I come?

2Horned:

Yes please. Use me, suffocate me

I want you to come so hard your legs shake as you drown me

ANG3L:

Fuck, you eat me out so good, my sexy devil

After I come on your face, I'm going to slide down and kiss you, taste myself on your lips

2Horned:

I want. So fucking hot

ANG3L:

And then I'm going to sit on your cock. I'm going to make sure you watch as it disappears inside me. I'm so wet you slide in so easily

Fuck. She knows exactly what to say, what visuals to use to get me close. I usually last longer but it's been a while and the climax I've been trying to hold off has grown too big, a raging beast inside me I can no longer cage or control.

2Horned:

You're so perfect riding my cock, Angel.

But I'm going to need to hold your hips down and fuck up into you. Hard

ANG3L:

Yes, please. Don't take it easy on me, I want to feel you so deep inside me

2Horned:

Holy fuck. You're going to make me come