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“Am I not what you would choose…if given a choice?” She lets her skirt fall to the floor. When she steps out of the puddle of black fabric, my eyes go lower, noticing she’s wearing her fuck me heels again.

“No. You’ve got it all wrong,” I try to reason with her as I drag my gaze slowly up her body, growing harder by the second. I need to get out of here before she completely wakes up.

“Am I not fuckable?” she whispers breathlessly as my gaze lands between her thighs. She is, in fact, covered in black lace. The naughty ones always are.

She stands before me in lingerie and those heels, begging for validation. I may not be able to give her what she wants, but I’ll not leave here having her thinking she’s unwanted. Because I want her. Without. A. Doubt.

“You’re completely fuckable,” I tell her, adjusting myself and using every ounce of willpower I have not to grab her, bend her over that sofa, and show her just how fuckable she is.

“Then what’s the problem?” She takes another step, then another, until she’s standing in front of me, her sweet and spicy smell invading my senses.

“Don’t you want to play?” She reaches for my trousers, stroking me through the heavy cotton. My eyes squeeze shut as I pull away with a hiss. “Oh, you want to play all right.”

“Scarlett. Stop,” I grit out, hating myself for saying the words.

“Oh, wait, I get it…there’s someone else. There’s always someone else. It’s never me.” She turns away, her shoulders shaking.

I lean in closer as her gentle whimpers turn to sobs. She mumbles incoherently, and I can only assume this has something to do with Piers. Figures.

I gently take her in my arms, placing a kiss against her bare shoulder. It’s meant to comfort, but her head falls back against my chest, shifting so her slender neck is mine for the taking.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” I murmur into her hair.

“Now we’re talking,” she purrs, turning in my arms, reaching her hands behind my head. Before I can push her away, she places a kiss on my Adam’s apple, then trails her tongue down my neck.

Oh, bloody hell. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.

“You taste so good.” Her breath is hot on my skin, heavy with alcohol, reminding me she’s still very much inebriated.

“Come on, Scarlett.” I pull her hands down and take a step back. There’s a trail of black under her eyes, dark streaks from her tears.

“Please,” she pleads.

“When I take you, you will remember it. I won’t be a blur.” I know what it’s like to want to use someone to get lost in. To need a warm body lying next to you to ward off the chill inside. A connection, anything to feel something. I’ve been there, done that. I won’t be her escape. Not tonight.

She backs away, brushing her fingertips under her eyes. She looks down at her hands, the residue of her makeup and evidence of her tears, smudged on her skin. She looks as if she seen a ghost.

“No. No…the mess.” She sinks down to the floor, wraps her arms around her knees, and rocks herself. This is definitely not a situation I’m used to being in. I’m usually the one leaving them in tears not trying to console them.

Uncharted waters is an understatement. Not knowing what else to do, I grab the blanket off the couch and bring it around her shoulders before heading back to the toilet to find a damp towel to clean up under her eyes, some aspirin, and a cup of water.

“Shhh. It’s just makeup,” I whisper as I wipe away the black salty streaks.

“Here, take these. And drink.” She does as she’s told, swallowing the pills before downing the water. I watch a stray drop escape and slide down her neck, but look away before it goes lower.

When the tears subside and she’s nearly asleep from wearing herself out, I lift her up to the couch.

Unable to help myself, I brush her hair out of her eyes and look at her makeup-free face. A long slender nose, thick black lashes hiding gorgeous blue eyes that are nearly violet, and creamy pale skin. Even sound asleep with tearstains, she’s stunning. This girl may be damaged, but so am I.

I turn to go, then turn back around when she mumbles incoherently in her sleep. She hugs a pillow tight to her chest, and I place a hand on her cheek to comfort her—one last touch that’s as much for me as for her.

She turns into me, and softly whispers, “Piers? I’m so glad you finally came.”

Piers. I snatch my hand away, as if her words burn my skin, then let myself out, locking up as I go. It was definitely time for me to get out of there.

This was a bad idea. A completely fucked up, unnecessary idea. The worst.

Because instead of finding anything out, all I found out was how much I want her…and how much she wants him.