Patience, patience, patience.
My delicate flower is just learning that her delectable body belongs only to me and what that entails for her.
Pleasure, protection.
I’ll give her tonight.
After, though?
All bets are off.
Lavender will always be the one to control our sexual encounters, and I won’t ever push her on it because that’s something Jade tried to steal from her in the past.
Still, it doesn’t mean I won’t create temptations that she’ll find too hard to resist.
And she will succumb to them sooner or later.
Because we’re inevitable.
Have been since the first glance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Secrets and lies go hand in hand.
What a tragic thought, isn’t it?
Because this makes all of us liars at some point, which just proves one thing.
Selfishness to a degree is forever engraved in our souls.”
Lavender
Lavender
“This is going to be a long day.” I sigh, getting out of the shower stall and wrapping the towel around my body.
The water drips onto the tiled floor as I go to the sink and wipe the mirror clear, studying my reflection, which is both terrifying and fascinating.
Terrifying because various bite marks and hickeys mar my neck and collarbone, standing out on my pale skin and bringing attention to their deep purple-red color, entwining with my scarred flesh. It almost creates a scary image since my scars become the center of attention.
Even if I tried to hide it, I would have failed.
And fascinating because whenever I touch them, a tremor rushes through me, reminding me how I got them, and the images from last night start to play in my head, one after another, wiping away any horrible thoughts or memories associated with my scars.
Placing my hand on the sink, I lean on it and shake my head, willing my mind to stop obsessing over last night, which should never have happened.
Although how is a woman supposed to forget the first time she got an orgasm from a man?
Groaning, I push back and quickly throw the towel in the hamper, putting my fluffy robe on and padding inside the room.
My heart speeds up when my phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I rush to pick it up, hating the disappointment when I see countless messages, none from Levi though.
“What did you expect? A love confession or something? He was probably drunk,” I mutter to myself. Or worse, he hopes I forgot about the whole thing as if it never happened.
Which was my plan anyway, but thinking about him wanting the same thing somehow hurts me, and isn’t that just pathetic?
The guy is ten years younger than me. I have no business doing anything with him!
