My hands fist, a desperate effort to anchor myself. “You’re engaged,” I whisper, voice barely more than air.
“I know.”
“To my sister.”
“I know that too.” He says without an ounce of remorse, it should disgust me. Shut something down. Make me step back, but instead, it makes me burn.
“But that’s my business,” he says, the final blow, before stepping back, leaving me cold and breathless.
And then… he’s gone.
I stand there, shaking, the phantom heat of his body still clinging to mine like a ghost.
What just happened? Why is this happening to me?
I bolt for the guest room like I can outrun the need clawing through me. I should’ve gone to Mom and Dad’s. What the hell was I thinking, staying here?
My hands tear through my suitcase, flinging clothes, makeup bags, tangled chargers, everything. Desperation sharpens every motion. I need to find my vibratory lifeline toprevent myself from making the biggest, no pun intended, mistake of my life. “Come on,” I plead, crawling across the floor, yanking open side zippers. “Where the fuck is it?”
Nothing.
Panic sets in, hot and suffocating. “Damn it!” I cry, dropping back against the bed in frustrated defeat.
I’m fucked.
In every. Way. Possible.
Needing to get my head on straight or at least stop myself from going two doors down and burying myself in what’s become the only thing I think about lately. I hit the shower and crank the handle all the way to cold. The water hits me like ice, a shock to the system, but the ache… the need… it doesn’t fade. It settles deeper. Becomes something heavier. Meaner. It sits in my chest like a live wire, humming with frustration.
After the shower, that did nothing to sate this growing hunger, I dry off with rough, impatient hands, dragging the towel over my skin like it might scrub the craving out of me. I drag on a T-shirt, joggers, whatever the hell’s closest, and grab my phone. I dial Justin, out of habit more than anything. I need a distraction. Anything to keep my mind from drifting right back to Blair.
It’s fucking Saturday. I should be working. I should be doing something productive. But nothing, no amount offocus, no responsibility, is enough to distract from the way she lives in my head lately.
Blair.
That mouth, smart, sinful, begging to be ruined. Those legs that go on forever, made to be draped over my shoulders while I make her forget her own name. That body, fuck, that body, built to be bent, marked, and worshipped like a religion I’d gladly burn for.
And I’ve barely even touched her. Not in the way I want. But it’s enough to poison everything else.
And then there’s her laugh.
Unfiltered, unbothered. It cuts through the noise in my head, and somehow it makes everything feel easier. Lighter.
I fucking hate that.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never been reckless like this. Never let myself spiral over anyone, especially someone who would cost me everything.
She’s off-limits. Full stop.
That should be enough, but it’s not.
If anything, Blair being forbidden makes her a problem I want to solve with my hands. With my mouth. With every goddamn inch of me.
Maybe if I fuck her out of my system, I’ll get back to normal. Maybe then I’ll stop feeling like I’m on the verge of ruining everything.
But until then… I’m hanging on by a thread.
“What’s up, Cal?” Justin’s voice comes through, easy and familiar, reminding me I actually called him.
