The suite that had seemed almost fantastical last night was lackluster now. The sun burned in through the open window, glaring at me along with Colette as she roamed around the space, burning energy and venting anger.
“You heard me,” she said. “You’re hiding from your feelings like a lovesick mortal instead of dealing with them like a grown-ass demon.”
I bristled. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s aboutdamage control.”
“Zephyr didn’t poison you on purpose,” Colette said, her voice sharp. “And you know it.”
I didn’t answer. My silence was its own admission.
Colette stopped and faced me with her fists on her hips. I braced for the rebuke that must have been brewing behind her pinched lips, but when she spoke, I didn’t feel scolded at all.
“He was a virgin, Beck.”
Shock staggered me, or maybe it was the bourbon making me unsteady, but I suddenly needed to sit down. Making my way to the couch, I thought back to that night in the executive suites. To Livingston’s sour deal, and Luxe’s wingman act, and Zephyr dangling above the stage, bound in silks with his limbs tensed and body bowing like he’d been designed to ruin me.
I thought about how he’d approached me and practically begged me to bed him. And I had. Because he was beautiful. Because he was hungry. Because he made me feel…
That was it. He made mefeel.
But in his bedroom, that sad closet of a space with its barred-over window and sparse furnishings, he’d been uncertain. He’d bumbled through getting into position, then shied from my touch. But he’d said nothing about a lack of experience.
Colette stared at me, brown eyes blazing.
“No, that’s not…”
I stopped myself becausefuck.I’d treated him like aprostitute. Clamped my hand over his mouth, then rutted mindlessly into him. His first time—his first sexual experience—had been getting used like a toy.
And maybe that was okay. He’d seemed to like it when I gagged him with my fingers, had moaned and writhed while my cock dipped into the wet heat of his ass. Maybe it didn’t matter that there had been no love in the act.
Not then. But since…
My mouth felt like it was packed with cotton, making it difficult to force the words out. “He didn’t tell me.”
Colette sniffed, nose upturned so she could glower down at where I sat. “You’re not the easiest person to talk to.”
I rolled my eyes and wished the bourbon was within reach as Colette carried on.
“Was it good for him, at least?” she asked. “Were you gentle?”
Not particularly.
I fucked Zephyr like I had something to prove. Every time I touched him, it came with the uneasy weight of comparison, like some part of him was already measuring me against whoever might come next. And I couldn’t stand the thought of being forgettable. I wanted to leave a mark. I wanted to be the one he remembered.
He took everything I had to give, gorged himself on my desire, and Ihadwanted it to be good for him. Good didn’t have to be gentle.
“I’m not a fucking animal, Coll,” I grumbled.
“Well, you’rebehavinglike one.” Colette stepped closer. “Zephyr was a wreck when I got here. You broke him. And the worst part is, he defended you. Said this wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s not.” The rebuttal came quickly, but not half asquickly as Colette’s advance. Swooping in, she brought her hand around in a stinging slap that whipped my head to the side.
Anger chased surprise, and I sprang to my feet only to be shoved back down.
“Listen to me, you bitter old man.” Colette’s finger ticked too close to my face. “In the limo last night, I heard every word you said. You called that boy perfect and beautiful and then you sent him away. Why?”
“He tricked me,” I replied, while my conviction—my righteous indignation—waned.
“Non!” Colette barked. “I am not finished.”
