Page 81

His eyelids droop, head lolling forward. Spent. Exhausted. Lips red and puffy. The sight of them wrapped around my cock is forever imprinted in my mind.

Hooking up was such a fucking mistake. Not because I didn’t enjoy myself. I did. Way too fucking much. Going down this path is treacherous for my heart and my head.

Anything with him is dangerous.

But I’m a moth to a flame.

He tips to the side—

I catch him by the shoulder, lifting his face with a finger beneath the chin.

“You alright?”

He licks his lips, grey eyes unfocused. “Cum drunk.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, drama king, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He gives me a lopsided smirk. “Oh,I’mthe drama king? Pretty sure that title belongs to you, sweetheart.”

I hoist his dead weight up, both of us stumbling into the glass. He giggles. Fucking. Giggles.

Dumping a glob of body wash into my palm while holding him upright, I attempt to wash him.

“You weigh a fuckton.”

“Calling me fat?” he slurs with a grin. I level a deadpan glare at him. Asshole knows he’s got a damn model’s body. I prop him against the wall and resume massaging soap into his heated skin.

“If you’re fishing for compliments, fine, you’re gorgeous. Now, do me a favor: don’t fall and crack your head. I’m too tired to make a trip to the ER.”

“Wait, how do I get more compliments—” His bullshitting is cut off by a sharp gasp when my hand grazes his softening cock. “I’m gonna advise staying away from my dick unless you’re planning on round two.”

I arch a brow, scanning his slumped figure. “Babe, you’re barely conscious.”

Suddenly, grey eyes open fully, a bright smile blooming on his face.

Dear Lord, why did you have to make him so fucking beautiful?

“What?” I sigh.

“You called me babe.”

Fuck me, I suck at this. I wasn’t supposed to give in, yet here I am, folding like a flimsy house of cards. Did I ever stand a chance?

Rather than respond, I guide him under the water again to rinse. He tries to reciprocate, but I swat him off and spin him around to shampoo and condition his hair. I'm massaging his scalp when he lets out a whimpered moan that goes straight to my balls.

Then he falls silent. I assume he’s half asleep until I’ve finished and we step out to towel off. There’s a serious set to his jaw and a little line between his brows. Maybe he regrets it? My stomach knots.

He grabs his wet jeans—

“You can’t wear those.”

Pausing, he shoots me a confused look. “Why not?”

Is he serious?

“They’rewet.”

His eyes narrow. “I mean… I don’t have anything else, so unless you expect me to walk out of here naked.”