I’m the one who just came all over this back seat, but she is the one who blooms. A bright flush crawls up her chest into her cheeks. She’s a fucking goddess, with her shirt off and her tits out and her hair wild in the back of her car.

Outside, everything is quiet, the only sound cars passing on the road at the mouth of the alley. Slowly, we get dressed again. Now that I’m not on the verge of coming, my cramped position in this back seat catches up with me. My neck is sore and my feet have pins and needles.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Noon.” She shows me her phone screen. There’s also a text from Paul she doesn’t open, instead throwing her phone into the front seat.

I tip my head against the headrest, my energy sapped. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

She brushes my hair off my face. “Testing that risotto recipe.”

I nod. “How are you feeling about it?”

She shrugs. “It’s good, but it’s missing something.”

I press my lips together. The last thing I want to do is shake her confidence, but mushroom risotto has to do some heavy lifting to elicit a reaction from a celebrity chef of Camilla’s caliber.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” I say. “I have faith in you.”

She smiles, shy. As if she didn’t just have her hand down my pants. “You?” she asks.

“Nap, probably.”

She turns, her hand on the car door handle. That’s my cue to get out of her car, I think.

“Hey,” I say, because I’m not ready yet.

She pauses.

“How’d you feel today?” I ask. “With the crew here and everything.”

She trails her fingers through the fog on the windows. “It actually...” She peeks at me, a grin lighting up her eyes. “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

I smile, my chest feels warm. “Did it feel different? Compared to Pop-Up Kitchen?”

She turns back to me, reaching up to sift her fingers through my hair again. I close my eyes at her touch. “I don’t really know. Maybe it felt more like a team effort this time? Like, Cooking for Camilla isn’t a direct competition. It might not be as cutthroat. And they all seemed to want to find ways to make things work rather than creating more obstacles for us.”

“That’s good, Hollywood. I’m glad.”

“See you tonight?” she asks, as if I won’t be back here earlier than that.

I open my eyes. “Tonight.”

Sophie searches my face then leans forward. She kisses me softly, a good-night type kiss. “Amy?”

“Yeah.”

“How about you stop making decisions for the both of us, okay?” Her voice is teasing but her point is clear.

I open her palm, kiss its center. “Fine. From now on, I’ll let you make me come whenever you ask.”

It’s not what she wants. But it’s all I’m able to give.