All Chapters of Miss Goody Two Shoes : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Or maybe detachment wasn't the right word either. It was hard to think in the middle of the sensual onslaught to which she was subjecting herself. And probably that she was trying to think at all was a sign of some hitherto undiscussed messed-upness on her part. But she guessed she just wanted him to be more involved. She wanted pleasure to be this bottle of strawberry wine they passed between them on a summer day. She wanted it to be sparks in a plasma ball jumping from her to him and back again. And she definitely didn't want to be serviced by a beautiful bonk robot as if she was stuck in Westworld. Which was totally ungrateful of her because there was some amazing stuff going on. Her body was having a really happy time—but where was Aiden? Every time she tried to touch him back or participate in any way, he'd move her hands or reposition her with infuriating gentleness. Cole wouldn't have cared if he'd pinned her or overpowered her, come at her rough and cruel and full of threats o

Aiden had been elusive after that. Busy, she guessed? At any rate, it turned out guests weren’t a problem, as long as she gave Bellerose enough notice to clear it with security and update Aiden’s diary so he knew she wasn’t available. She was actually super excited to see Harper. And she thought he was happy to see her, although it was slightly overshadowed by his reaction to the apartment. “Holy fuckballs,” she said, her bag slipping off her shoulder and thumping onto the floor. “When you said to meet you at Hyde Park, I assumed you were just using it as a landmark and we’d be off to some scuzzy bedsit you were renting in Peckham.” “Yeah, I’m just crashing here while my crack den is being repainted,” Cole replied. Harper turned dazedly, her eyes skidding over glass and silk and marble, much as hers had done when she first arrived. As, to be fair, they still did because she wasn’t sure how anyone ever got used to a place like this. “Seriously, Cole. How can

Sometime between opening the bottle and finishing the bottle and embarking on another one, they had decided to lie on the rug to better appreciate the beauty of the universe. Which was when dinner arrived. It was super super weird to be served in your home like it was a restaurant, except it was hard to imagine One Hyde Park being anyone’s home really, and they were tipsy, which helped with the embarrassment factor. The food went by in a blur of faint weirdness. They’d brought them this complementary starter, which was an orange and some burned toast, except the orange was actually pate and Harper exploded it with a knife when she tried to slice into it like you would a piece of fruit. The Rice & Flesh turned out to be saffron risotto with cow bits on top—although it was delicious—and Cole's savory porridge was the worst thing in the world. Probably it tasted okay once you got over the fact that it was bright green and the frog legs croquettes had

Cole made a sort of lunging nuzzle into his palm. This was sweet of her. And confusing. But not quite what she needed to hear. Basically it was emotional umami. And she didn’t know how to answer. Except then she blurted out, “But I don’t want things. I want you.” froze. It was like lights going out. Security doors coming down. Then he leaned in and kissed her again, and it was all teeth, all savagery. He spun her round, driving her back against the fridge, his mouth still on hers, one hand trapping her wrists and the other sliding down to rest against her throat. It was a pretty threatening way to be pinned, with her pulse beating under his palm and the heat of him surrounding her. So, obviously, she was super into it. He finally broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and dizzy and full of the taste of him. Pressed in even closer, his eyes a flare of ice blue—sun glare across glaciers—and his lips a little red from hers. “No,

“Then what are you doing here?” Cole asked a little plaintively. The problem with pseudo-housesitting was not really knowing what the boundaries were. How far to make yourself at home. Was it her responsibility to make sure people she didn’t know didn’t cut coke on Aiden’s furniture? Was she supposed to be welcoming Aiden’s sister, or throwing her out? “Needed somewhere to crash.” “Um, okay. So I’ll just go back to bed then?” “Stay if you like. This is—” And Aiden's sister reeled off a list of names Cole wasn’t in any state to remember. Cole gave the group a halfhearted wave. Thankfully, they were mostly unconscious, distracted, or making out in that desultory post-party way. “I’m Ellery, by the way.” “Nice to meet you.” And, with a desperate attempt to be a good host: “Do you need anything?” “Never. I like your tattoo.” Cole looked down in this idiotic way, as if she’d forgotten it was