Page 53 of Scarred

“Jesus,” he moans deep into the space we share. His breathing is labored and matches mine as our lungs frantically try to draw in air.

We lie there in the dark, neither of us saying anything as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

Boundaries were crossed that can never be taken back.

Actions were done that can never be forgotten.

The unknown hangs heavy in the air, neither one of us knowing where to go from here.

Only one thing is for certain as I throw the cover over me and curl on my side…

My life changed the moment Cayden Blade walked into it, and after tonight, he owns more of me than I’ll ever get back.

SEVENTEEN

CAYDEN

I stare at the phone held tightly in my hand. Somewhere between the silence and hearing her breaths even out as she fell asleep, I eventually hung up.

My chest is still rising too fast—my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears.

And her voice…

The sound of my name on her lips as she came apart for me echoes in my mind on repeat like a goddamn broken record.

Fuck.

I rake a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of her, knowing damn well it’s not going to be that easy.

I let it get too far when I should have walked away.

Hearing how breathless she sounded in her voice memo had me dialing her number before I could really think it through.

She was bold tonight, and it was fucking sexy as hell to have her brazenly ask for what she wanted from me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want it just as bad, and once I had my hand around my cock and heard her little moans and sighs through the phone, there was no stopping me.

I needed to hear her cum so badly that it still has me shaken, and I needed to be the one to bring her there.

Not her little toys, which she usually relies on.

But me.

Throwing the sheet over me, I toss and turn most of the night before eventually falling into a restless sleep.

My dreams are torn between hell and heaven.

The past—coiling around my neck like chains, refusing to let me forget. A constant reminder of loss and heartbreak that keeps me guarded and distant.

The future—tempting me with glimpses of what could be if I find the strength to break the shackles wound tightly around my heart.

By the time I make it downstairs in the morning, I’m in desperate need of caffeine and in a sour mood.

“You came in late last night,” Mae’s voice rings out as I pour coffee into my mug. “Did you let yourself have some fun?”

“All it did was remind me why I hate going out to clubs in the first place,” I grumble, taking a sip of my black coffee. “Where’s Scar?”

Her pink princess plate sits on the counter, covered in muffin crumbs—proof that she’s already had breakfast.

When I came back last night, it was so late that I didn’t move Scarlett, letting her stay in Mae’s bed for the night.