Page 47 of The Encore’s Crown

You want this too.

“Yeah,” I breathe into the empty shower. “I want you.”

My pace turns rougher, desperate. Nothing like the patience I gave her. There’s no tenderness in this, just frustration built from months of denying every instinct I have about her, finally burning through what’s left of me.

My shoulders tighten, pleasure gathering impatiently. Her name sits behind my teeth, but I try to hold it there. It comes out anyway, thankfully swallowed by the guitar screaming through the speaker. Saying it aloud tips me over the edge, I come so hard I have to lock my arm to keep myself upright. At first, I can’t move, water pouring over my neck and down my back. My head hangs between my shoulders, every muscle in my body loosens at once, leaving me weak and shaking.

The relief should clear my head. Instead, all I can think about is her. Still asleep four doors down, curled around the space I left behind.

I finish up my pathetic version of a shower and shut off the water.

The music keeps pounding through the bathroom, obnoxiously loud now that I no longer need it to cover anything. Steam rolls around me when I open the glass door and the change in temperature makes me dizzy.

I catch the counter and stare at myself through the fogged mirror.

I look wrecked. Eyes dark, my hair dripping. Skin flushed almost red from water hot enough to cook me alive. My body gives one faint, exhausted throb, like even now it would try to answer her if she walked through the door.

“That’s enough from you,” I say glancing down at the rogue appendage.

I turn the music off. The sudden quiet feels unsettling because it leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I wrap a towel around my waist and make it as far as the bed before my legs decide they’re finished cooperating. I dive face-first across the mattress and the towel twists under me. I should throw it to the floor, maybe dry my hair. Drink some water, set my alarm, but I don't. My body feels boneless, wrung out by everything that happened and everything that didn’t. The mattress is cool beneath my overheated skin.

I close my eyes.

The lie pops into my head.

This was just physical.

Of course I’m fucked. I spent hours wanting her, touching her, listening to her fall apart, and denied myself the one thing every nerve in my body was demanding. Anybody would lose control after that, it doesn’t mean anything. It's just one night. A moment of weakness stretched longer than it should have been. We can write it off. She was hurting and I helped.

That’s all.

We can still walk away from this. Go back to separate rooms and sarcastic comments and pretending the air doesn’t change every time she steps close. She can return to her life, forget all about this, no damage done. My body gives out against the mattress. Her voice moves through me one last time before sleep finally claims me.

Nothing gets through… except you.

I curl one hand underneath the pillow before burying my head in it.

“Whatever,” I mutter.

The room doesn’t bother answering.

It knows I’m lying.

So do I.

Chapter 21

Acts Of Stupidity

Natalia

Iwake up smiling despite the headache that's pounding against my temples. It's a ridiculous, face-hurting grin.

I’m curled on my side with half the duvet twisted between my legs, my hair stuck to my cheek, and my entire body feels loose in a way that makes me confused until I remember, working through my hungover haze—

Oh, right.