I have been ignorant my entire life, largely thanks to my mom and her misguided sense of protection. Blood boils under my skin as Pamela’s image surfaces in my mind’s eye. I dig my nails into my knees, enraged as I think of all the ways she has fucked up my life. Some mother she turned out to be.
Music blares, hurting my ears, and a burst of light from the hallway has me squinting in the darkened room as the door swings open. I glance over, scrubbing my eyes as a tall, muscular form kicks the door shut with a booted foot before stalking toward me. His familiar hulking frame is a shadowy blur as he strides across the room.
“I want to be alone, Chad,” I say, my words slurring slightly. I angle my face away without looking at him. Things have been increasingly strained between me and my boyfriend since arriving at Lowell University a few months ago.
Especially these past few weeks.
I’m not the only one who has lost Jase. I met Jase through Chad, and it was my boyfriend who proposed I take his best friend as my lover too. They have been best friends and teammates on the football team for years. This is the first time they have stopped talking to one another, and I’m not sure if the damage to their relationship can ever be repaired.
The bed dips as Chad climbs up behind me, ignoring my wishes, as per usual. Warmth coats my back as he presses his long, hard, ripped body up against me. Firm fingers land on my hip as he thrusts his hard-on against my ass. Lust stirs low in my belly despite my frustration and melancholy. Pushing my hair aside, he plants a slew of drugging kisses along my neck, and my skin tingles from his addictive touch. I close my eyes, and my drunken brain conjures my dreams to life. I imagine it’s Jase touching me, eliciting little moans and whimpers, and dampening my panties as Chad’s hands begin to wander.
Shoving those images aside, I am immediately remorseful and shamefaced. Chad doesn’t deserve to have me check out on him, no matter how fragile our relationship is right now. We haven’t had sex in weeks, and I need to feel closer to my boyfriend.
I can’t lose him too.
Notes of citrus, spice, and sandalwood tickle my nostrils as he moves, and the heady scent of his cologne hits me like a direct stab to the heart.
I would know that scent anywhere.
My eyes pop wide in realization, and I attempt to turn around, but firm hands stop me. My heart is thrashing against my rib cage, pounding in excitement as adrenaline charges through my veins and lust elevates my arousal to dizzy heights.
He came looking for me.
Jase is here.
Touching me. Kissing me. Holding me. Comforting me.
Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Does he walk around with a constant pain in his heart and an ache in his soul?
I need to see him. To peer into his gorgeous emerald-green eyes as I reclaim his lips. I attempt to turn around again, but he stops me once more, and my newfound hope stutters to a halt.
He won’t face me because nothing has changed.
He can never be mine.
This is as much as he can offer me.
But it’s not enough.
It never will be.
That horrific night replays in my mind, like it often has these past couple of weeks, and my heart ruptures again in my chest as the pain of his betrayal slays me anew. His arms tighten around me in the dark, holding me steady as I thrash around, desperate to get away from him before my treacherous body gives me away.
No matter how much I want this, wanthim, I can’t give in.
But it’s not that simple.
Every nerve ending on my body craves his touch, and I’m like an addict chasing a high I know isn’t good for me, but I’m struggling to resist.
I’m waging an inner battle as much as I’m fighting him.
How can I still want him after everything he has done?
My body so needs to get with the program. Determined to be stronger than my base desires, I continue fighting him, trying to escape his embrace, but it’s a weak effort, at best. My head is at war with my body and my heart, and my inebriated limbs can’t muster the appropriate strength to get away from him because my man is ripped. Tall, strong, muscular, and a force to be reckoned with.
No longeryourman, my snide inner voice reminds me.He never truly was, the voice adds, driving the knife in deeper.
No matter how futile it is, I continue to fight, thrashing around in his solid hold. “Fuck off, Jase,” I hiss. “I don’t need you. Don’t want you,” I lie. “Go back to that bitch.” I grip his arms, ready to drag my nails through his flesh if it’s the only way I can break free, but my fingers meet material. My brows knit together as I look down at the long sleeves of the dress shirt he’s wearing. Jase doesn’t dress like this. Anger churns in my gut. This isherinfluence. She’s already turning him into something he’s not.
