“Lumbering around?” I repeated. “It’s how I walk.”
“You’ve been stomping around for days,” he insisted as he set up the beer pong table.
“I don’t think the girls are going to play pong.”
“You never know. They get crazy.”
I was worried about that.
It was why I’d been planning on being out for the night.
Until fucking Fallon personally requested that I do guard duty while the girls were partying.
There was no way to turn him down without someone getting suspicious. I didn’t need anyone thinking about shit.
Because I was pretty sure my damn guilt was practically scrawled across my forehead.
Guilt for doing it.
But not one damn drop of regret.
If that was all I would get from her, I had to make myself believe it was enough. Because it was a lot.
Her sighs, moans, whimpers. Her begging, her writhing. The smell of her. The taste of her. The feel of my fingers inside her. The way her walls clenched as she came.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories.
I knew it was useless.
I’d been replaying them on a loop for days.
Inevitably, I found myself straining in bed.
And damn if I didn’t nearly get carpal tunnel from trying to get some relief from the desire. To no avail.
I knew what I really needed to do was go out, find some random woman, and fuck the memory of Gracie out of my head.
But just the thought of it was enough to leave me completely and fucking utterly flaccid.
So, yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked Croft.
While Spike, Cain, and Croft were hanging around, Rune and I were the ones Fallon explicitly asked to be on guard.
“He went up to the glass room.”
“Why?”
Was there an explosive quality to that one word? Yep. Because the glass room had been my fucking plan, damn it. Far and away from the girls. No seeing Gracie. No smelling her. No wanting to grab her, drag her into a closet, and fuck her senseless.
“Guard duty,” Croft reminded me, brows furrowing.
“I was going to go up there,” I said, trying to shrug it off.
“You can switch later.”
Later.
