Page 74 of Playboy’s Purgatory

But I slept like a damn rock.

When I turn my head, Lara is there tucked into my side with her nose pressed against my chest and her breath fanning my nipple. It shouldn’t make my dick twitch but I’m already dripping pre-cum for her.

My Cupcake looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping. Like nothing can touch her.

I wonder what she dreams about. While I take in the way the tendrils of her hair sweep across her face, I’m tempted to reach out and brush them away. Am I ready for her to wake up though?

Honestly, I expected to feel some kind of panic. Maybe last night. Maybe right now.

But it’s not there.

I’ve always been the kind of man to have my fun with women and then walk away. No fuss. No mess. And as little drama as possible.

Would I like to avoid all of it? Of course, but I’m not stupid enough to think that life, and women, will be drama free. How would the world keep turning?

Seeing Opal on a tirade more than once, I’ve wondered if the machinery of it all is fueled with female rage and righteousness. If it isn’t then someone needs to look into it. I wonder if it would be better than wind energy or even solar.

Since I’m not panicking or filled with the need to run, I find another worry cropping up. The longer I watch Lara sleep, the farther it burrows into my mind.

Is she going to wake up and regret last night?

My heart sinks at the thought of it. It would gut me if she won’t even look me in the eye. If she avoids me. If she ignores it.

How the fuck will I deal with it?

She only offered me one night. But she did also offer for me to stay in the same breath.

I want to find hope in that nuance, but I’m a fucking coward. Shame washes over me as I do it, but I still gently pull away from her and slide from bed. I’m not sure if she needs to be up early for the bakery, but I can’t imagine I have much time if I want to leave.

My footsteps are silent as I walk into the bathroom and close the door. The light is too bright, but maybe it’s what I need. The shock of it. The brutal reality.

After splashing water on my face, I stare into the mirror for a long time. Long enough that my features start to shift into something unrecognizable.

Is that what I’m trying to do with Lara? Make her see me differently? Am I any different?

Sometimes, it feels like it.

Then I’ll remember the look on Lara’s face when I was spewing my bullshit. And the way I ignored it.

She never let me get away with it.

Could that be the point?

I flick off the light, unable to stomach my fucking face for another moment and needing to reacclimate so I don’t face plant in Lara’s bedroom. That would not make for a smooth exit.

When I step back into her room, it’s easy enough to find my clothes. I slip my jeans back on and grab my shirt.

My attention drifts back toward Lara and I sit on the edge of the bed near the bottom. I take in the way her chest rises and falls now that she’s shifted onto her back without me next to her. She’s so damn beautiful. How could I have been blind for so long?

I look toward the door and then back at her. This is my chance.

If I leave, it’ll be clean. For her.

If I leave, I won’t have to face her regret. That’s for me.

I don’t want to leave.

The moment I admit it to myself, the tension in my body eases.