Page 16 of Devious Roses
“Sasha!” I call out to her, but she’s already made up her mind to flee.
* * *
I spend the evening waiting for Salvatore. We’re supposed to go out for dinner. He made reservations at Ostra, the finest seafood restaurant in the city. Half an hour before we’re slated to arrive, he calls me and lets me know he’s working late on Valentine’s Day.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
I plop down on the sofa between where Salt and Pepa are curled up. “Don’t worry about it. It looks like it’s aHousewives of South Valleyand pineapple pizza kind of night.”
“More like all good taste out the window kind of night.”
“You don’t get to judge when you’re not here,” I tease. “I seem to remember someone scolding me for being a workaholic. It sounds like that someone needs to take his own advice.”
The humor sounds in Salvatore’s low, gruff tone. “You’re real mouthy over the phone. Wait ’til I get home. It sounds like I might need to put that mouth to better use.”
I snort. “That sounds more like a reward, Jon. You know I love sucking on that huge dick.”
He groans. “Fuck. You and that pouty-lipped, dirty-talking mouth of yours have me wanting to rush home.”
“So do it. Come home and fuck me. I’ll be waiting with my mouth open and my legs spread.”
This time he’s caught between a groananda laugh.
“Believe me, if I could, I would already be there. But more shit has gone down.”
My playful mood evaporates. I forget about selecting an episode on the TV screen and sit up. “Does it have to do with the tensions between the others?”
“Can’t explain on the phone. Just know if I could, I’d have you sitting on my dick already.”
By the time we’re hanging up, I’m thrumming with desire. My mind lingers on everything Salvatore and I dirty talked about. Vivid images materialize and make me hot despite the fact it’s February and wet and frigid out.
I refocus on the TV, seeking distraction. Halfway through the episode of the reality TV show, I give in and order delivery. Though I’m tempted to get pineapple pizza just to rub it in Salvatore’s face, I opt for Thai instead.
Salt and Pepa cuddle up beside me, meowing in satisfaction.
Time inches by at a snail’s pace until I stop paying attention and lose track of it. I go from lying on the sofa with the cats, watching the housewives bicker, to jerking awake at the sound of the shower.
“Salvatore,” I mumble drowsily.
He must’ve come home and hadn’t wanted to disturb me. I’m slow moving, rising off the couch and seeking out the static noise of spraying water. Dimly, in the back of my mind, it registers that I should check the time.
Yet, I don’t. The thought vanishes. I plod down the hall and am distracted by how distorted and blurred everything feels.
How long was I out, and why do I feel like I took sleeping pills?
The drowsiness refuses to wear off. It occupies my state of mind and makes me feel off, like I’m running on fumes.
The bathroom light glows. The door hangs open. I push myself to go faster, following the heavy sound of the shower. My heart’s started racing in eagerness to see Salvatore.
He’ll clear up my brain fog. He’ll pull me into his arms and kiss me the moment he steps out of the shower and towels off.
My feet pick up the pace and take me to the open doorway in a few more steps.
But the weird thing is, the second I cross the threshold, I’m forgetting what I’m doing. I’m wandering into the bathroom and stopping in front of the mirror.
A horrified gasp expands in my throat. I jump back with wide eyes and a cold shiver running the length of me.
My reflection… doesn’t feel like me.