I shouldn’t feel this way.
Yet I’m not surprised that I do.
Hate and love. Disdain and desire. On opposite sides of the rope, they’re still bound by passion. It’s always been there between us. A craving. Something drawing us in.
What would happen if we gave into it for a night?
The car rolls to a stop in front of my house.
My heart races.
I glance at Landon.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a brief moment. “Goodnight, Ainsley.”
I swallow. “Night.” Then I slide out of the car and walk up my driveway.
Once I’m inside, I lean on the door with my eyes closed.
What the hell was that? What am I doing?
Maybe I’m drunker than I thought.
I yank off my heels and trudge upstairs to scrub off this makeup. Finally, I get into my pajamas and slip under the covers in bed. If I force myself to go to sleep, I can forget about this strange night and start a new day tomorrow.
But my mind won’t let me rest. I keep replaying my conversation with Landon, and imagining what would’ve happened if the night ended differently. With us together. My body yearns for a release, but I refuse to give in, like I’m punishing myself for fantasizing about Landon.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach over and tilt it until I see Landon’s name lighting up the screen.
I swipe my thumb across it to accept the call, and lift it to my ear. “Hey, everything okay?”
At first, I don’t hear anything.
“Landon, are you there?”
Then his deep groan floats through the speaker, and my body ignites.
Oh.
“Are you touching yourself yet?” he asks. His voice is low and desperate, and it sends a rush of heat over my skin.
Oh, my god. Is he...?
“Fuck,” he drags out. “Ainsley.”
The sound of my name coming out of his mouth while he pumps himself on the other side of the phone has my panties soaked within seconds. I’m too stunned to move, too shocked to utter a word.
All I can do is listen.
He grunts as he continues pleasuring himself, and my eyes flutter closed, picturing him in his bed, thrusting his hips into his hand. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Picturing all the things he wants to do to me.
There is nothing sexier than the sound of a man moaning when you know he’s thinking of you.
“I’m gonna come, Ainsley. Fuck, this feels too good.”
“Yes,” I finally whisper. “Come for me.”
He groans louder, and as he releases, he chants my name like a prayer, over and over again.
