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I roll her onto her back and then shove back inside.

“Ares,” she pants, reaching out to touch me. “Fuck, Ares. Please, please, please.”

“Gonna make you come again,” I groan. “Gonna fuck you until you come on my cock. Is that what you want?”

Brynn nods eagerly. She flexes her muscles, going tighter around me, and I retaliate by fucking her even harder. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and Brynn’s moans as she crests to another peak.

I watch it all play out on her face, taking in the way her eyes fall closed and her lip finds its way between her teeth. She arches her back, and holds onto me, the pleasure soaring higher and higher until it finally all breaks.

She comes with a harsh cry, shuddering as her pussy spasms around me.

That’s enough to drag me over the edge with her, and I keep rolling my hips, fucking into her while we both ride out our orgasms.

We struggle to catch our breaths afterward, but there’s an overwhelming feeling of relief in me. It’s like I really needed that. Like all the tension and animosity between us has been leading to us ending up like this.

Brynn looks flushed, but sated, like she might feel the same. Even after eight years, this isn’t that different from the way it was before. She still gets sleepy and soft after she comes, her eyes half closed, her face set in relaxed lines. My hand itches to reach down and smooth sweaty hair back from her face, and I get halfway into the motion before I realize that this was definitely a mistake.

14

BRYNN

I feel limp and sated, like doing that scratched an itch inside me that I didn’t even know needed scratching. Usually after coming that hard, I would just lie there, enjoying the warmth of the aftermath, but basically as soon as his breathing evens out, Ares goes tense.

So of course that makes me tense up, worried about what happens next. It ruins the moment because now all I can think about is how that definitely should not have happened. Ares hurt me, worse than anyone has ever hurt me before. The things he said that day cut deeper than anything any shitty music critic has ever said about me, and sleeping with him was probably a huge mistake.

Scratch that, it was definitely a huge mistake.

Even if it felt really good in the moment, there’s no denying the fact that he seems to dislike me the way his whole family dislikes mine, and sleeping together once isn’t going to do anything to change that.

Ares pulls out and rolls off the bed, going to get rid of the condom. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, and judging from the way his shoulders are hunched up around his ears, he’s closing off and shutting down.

He’s probably thinking about all the reasons why this was a bad idea, and seeing that makes me shut down too. I’m not going to be the only one open right now, and I want to curl around myself protectively, to defend my soft spots from getting hurt by his attitude.

I get off the bed and start getting dressed. Ares does the same, not looking at me or talking to me at all.

After a truly excruciating five minutes, I clear my throat a little. “We should probably just forget that happened,” I say, speaking up. “We can just consider it a mistake and go back to ignoring each other.”

Ares throws a sharp look in my direction, the first time his eyes have met mine since he came. “Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice just as sharp as his gaze.

I’m a little taken aback by the question. I expected him to agree immediately that this isn’t something we should ever repeat, talk about, or even think about again. Instead he’s asking what I want.

In my heart, I know that no, that isn’t what I want. I want to figure out what the hell happened between us and see if there’s any chance we can move on from it. But admitting that would be showing a lot of vulnerability and Ares’ body language doesn’t seem to suggest that he would handle that vulnerability very well at all.

So I just shrug, looking down at the grey carpet under my feet. “That’s what happens with us, right?” I mutter. “You didn’t seem to have a problem forgetting about me. You were so quick to throw what we had away. You burned it all to the ground and then left town and never looked back. Why would it be different now?”

Ares frowns. His eyes are stormy with a mix of anger and hurt flashing in them. “I burned it all down?” he asks, folding his arms. “Is that how you remember it?”

I scowl at him, anger and the old pain I keep telling myself I’m over rising up in me. “I don’t know why—” I start, but I’m cut off by the sound of the door to the room opening.

Tate and Callan walk in, each of them holding a couple of brown paper bags that smell like salt and grease. They look between the two of us, standing on opposite sides of a very rumpled bed, and my cheeks flame with embarrassment.

It’s probably immediately obvious that we fucked. Or, at the very least, that something happened here.

What am I even doing? What is even happening right now? How is this my fucking life?

Not only am I stranded with my ex and his friends, but that makes two members of this little group that I’ve slept with now. In less than forty-eight hours. This isn’t like me at all, and it feels like it must be happening to some other version of me.

I wish it was.