Page 33 of Blush Crush

Cole

I’M THE ASSHOLE

Ialmost fucking kissed her.

I was about to volunteer as tribute for the very noble task of giving Ariana her first orgasm.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me? With her brothers literally a few yards away.

Not that I’m shaking in my boots over the Ledger brothers, but I respect them enough not to maul their baby sister like she’s some meaningless hookup.

I don’t even know what happened. It was like I was possessed. Like I wasn’t even myself. Like I wasn’t thinking with my goddamn brain.

I wish I could blame alcohol, but I haven’t had so much as a drop.

Seeing Kennedy just now, cuddled up with her ex, did mess me up for a second, only adding fuel to Whitney’s not-so-harmless comments. Not because I’m jealous, but because, for the first time, I’m starting to doubt my own beliefs.

And that’s not a road I’m interested in going down.

I’m the guy you have fun with for a while before moving on to someone who actually wants the life you’re building toward. I might not be the one you marry, but I’ll be the one you thinkabout when you’re lying awake, remembering who made you come the hardest.

I like being that guy. Or at least, I used to.

Now there’s all this noise in my head, making me question why I’ve been so set on staying noncommittal.

I need to get past it, because I can’t give someone a future. I made that decision a long time ago. A wife and kids—the whole white-picket-fence dream—it’s not for me.

It’s not that I don’t like kids. I love my nephew. I’d die for that kid.

But one of my own? Not a chance in hell.

I saw what losing a child did to my parents. It destroyed them, wrecked our family so completely the rest of us barely registered after Miles’s accident.

I won’t bring a kid into this world just to risk watching history repeat itself.

So I keep things casual. Because it’s always worked.

But then there’s Ariana, who has absolutely no idea the kind of power she could have if she ever decided to use it.

But she’s the opposite of casual. She’s young and inexperienced with so much life ahead of her, and it’s clear she’s the kind of woman you get serious with. The kind you marry. The kind you don’t touch unless you’re prepared to make it permanent.

But fuck if I’m not tempted to do a hell of a lot more than just touch her.

Overhearing Ariana’s conversation with Layla was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened. It’s opened up a door I’m incapable of closing.

She looked dangerous tonight, showing a little more skin than usual. Nothing scandalous by most standards, but on her it may as well have been lingerie. I practically salivated like a starving man.

I’m the asshole imagining all the ways I could ruin her innocence. All the ways I could make her fall apart beneath me, again and again, until she forgets how to do anything but say my name.

And the worst part is it’s exactly how wrong it is that makes me want her more.

Ariana Ledger is about as off-limits as a woman can get.

Forbidden.

Untouchable.

I can’t go on like this. Something has to be done.