Everything about her was addictive.Shewas addictive.
Every day, I found myself falling deeper for her. Something I'd been fighting for so long, but now that I was down that rabbit hole, I willingly nosedived toward my destination.
Maria.
The glare of the screen provided a soft glow across the darkened room. On the TV, some poor girl had just jumped into a pit of syringes, digging through for a key. But we weren't paying attention to the movie Maria had deemed "a classic" —not when I had Maria pinned under me as we made out like a couple of teenagers.
Did I start feeling her up because the sight of a guy about to dig into his eye to find a key to free himself became too much for me? Probably. My little psycho just sat there, eyes riveted on a movie she claimed to have seen eight times, popcorn shoveled in by the handful.
I'd sat there staring at her enraptured face, thinking about how much of an enigma she was.
Tough. Soft. Strong. Gentle. Defensive. Vulnerable.
My eyes drifted to her breasts.
Sexy. Fuckable. Loveable.
She was so different from Hannah's gentle, calm personality; yet I couldn't be more smitten. Without hesitation, I'd leanedover and kissed her. And kept kissing her until she'd fallen back against my couch, her legs automatically making room for me.
Maria pulled away from me, breathing hard as I planted open-mouthed kisses down her throat.
"Door," she gasped.
"Hmm?" My tongue licked at her skin.
"Door," she repeated. Her small hands pushed me gently. "There's someone knocking on the door."
Her words finally penetrated my lust-induced mind just as the sound of a loud knock registered.
"Shit."
I reared up from the couch, smoothing my hair back and straightening my shirt. Maria wiped her mouth before running a hand through her hair, fluffing it around her shoulders. She sent me a smirk when she noticed me staring at her.
"Go get the door," she reminded me.
Right. I fumbled down the hallway, buttoning one of the buttons on my polo shirt that Maria had slyly unbuttoned mid-make-out. I cursed the interruption but was relieved that my boner had gone down. I pulled the door open, ready to tell whoever it was to politely fuck off.
"Sarah!"
She swirled around, mid-step back down my porch steps. Her face lit up when she saw me. If only I'd waited a few seconds more before answering the door.
"Hey! I thought you weren't home." She rubbed at her elbow before glancing down. "Either that or you were avoiding me."
I folded my arms, unmoved by her contrite act. Memories of our last conversation and the letter she kept from me flashed through my mind. "What are you doing here, Sarah?"
I heard movement behind me, and I stepped forward. I didn't want her meeting Maria just yet—at least, not until I was sure she wouldn't lash out at her.
She held out a plate. "I made a plum cake. Peace offering," she added. Her mouth twisted as she glanced into the open hallway. "Can I please come in?"
"Sarah…"
She climbed back up the stairs until she was in front of me. Her lips quivered as she held the plate closer to her chest. "I really want to apologize for how I acted. I'm so sorry about…" Sarah’s attention shifted to a spot behind me, her brow furrowing before her eyes widened in shock. She fumbled back a step, her gaze still fixated behind me.
My brow pulled down at her strange reaction. I glanced back and spied Maria standing still as a statue behind me. Her face unusually pale.
"Maria?"
"What thefuckis she doing here?" Sarah's screech caught me off guard, and I felt her body press against mine. She still held the cake, but it was squashed flush against her.
