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But what if he didn’t? What if he never forgot? What if he carried what I’d done with him in some small way for the rest of his life?
My heart twisted, because if every single memory was precious… I couldn’t bear the thought of that being the last one Leon had of me.
I just couldn’t fucking do it.
THIRTY-TWO
LEON
My head dropped back, hanging off the edge of the couch as my eyes slid closed and Ashley's firm ass ground down on my dick over my sweatpants.
My hands on her hips, her lips on my neck, the warmth of her pussy radiating through the sheer fabric of her panties… and I couldn't fucking feel any of it.
Eyes open, closed. Awake. Asleep. All I fucking saw was Lissa riding some other guy's dick. I hadn't fucking breathed properly in two days. That image had imprinted itself on my brain, and the world around me had turned fucking red. Red with the rage I was struggling to control. Red with the pain I was fighting to contain.
Which was why a near-empty bottle of cheap whiskey lay on its side by my feet as I sat back on Danny's couch.
Why a girl I couldn't give a fuck about was rolling her hips over my groin, her skirt pulled up over her ass.
Why I was trying to get my fucking dick to work.
I wanted to pull my sweats down and slam it so far up Ash's pussy, I'd fuck out every memory of Alissa Bedford.
I wanted to fuck anyone—everyone—until I forgot I'd ever been inside her.
But she was so far fucking inside me, I couldn't see past her.
This was fucking pointless.
My lids squeezed, hands doing the same around Ashley's slim hips, and then I pushed her up and lifted her weight off of my lap. I paused with her hovering inches above me as a strange hush descended and the energy in the room seemed to shift.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ash scathed, and I wrenched my eyes open, following the direction of her glare.
My heart fucking somersaulted—soaring high, then crashing back to the ground—as I took in the sight of my beautiful fucking snow queen standing before me in Danny’s living room.
A simple white shirt, black leggings, and a pair of flats, her gorgeous face bare of make-up, white-blonde hair straight and tucked behind her ears. She was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen. And I forgot to hate her for a second.
Every possessive instinct I possessed roared to life. The urge to shove Ashley away and storm over to Lissa—to wrap my hands around her body and pull her close, to slam my lips down on hers and fucking devour her, to demand to know why she’d fucking ruined me—was almost uncontrollable. I was shaking with the effort of holding myself in place.
I wanted her with an intensity I couldn’t even comprehend, even as the image of her on top of Bateman superimposed itself over the one of her standing here in front of me.
But the knowledge of it sent a concentrated wave of disgust hur
tling through me.
My eyes hardened. I wouldn't fucking give her the satisfaction of knowing just how thoroughly she'd screwed me. How completely she’d wrecked me. She’d took a match and burnt me to the fucking ground.
Looking at her now, I played back every minute we'd spent together like a film reel, and it seemed almost fucking impossible that every touch, every word, and every look she'd given me could have been a lie, that I could have been so fucking wrong, but I couldn’t deny the facts. I almost wished I hadn’t fucking seen it with my own eyes. Then I could pretend. And like an idiot, I would, because I was so far fucking gone for her.
But I had seen it. I’d seen it because she’d sent me the goddamn text making sure I'd find her fucking another guy. And the only logical reason for her to do that was because she wanted to fucking destroy me.
Well, mission accomplished. My heart was a mangled fucking mess of tissue and blood, barely beating in my chest. So, well-fucking-played, Snow Queen.
Instead of pushing Ashley away, I yanked her down over me, my eyes slitting as Lissa's gaze fell to the movement… to the sight of Ashley’s barely covered ass sinking down on my lap.
Lissa’s deathly pale face blanched further, the blood draining as she swallowed tightly, her fingers closing over each other in front of her waist.
I reached down and wrapped my fist around the whiskey bottle, tipping it toward Lissa in a silent salute before bringing it to my lips. My eyes never left her face, watching her reaction, as I took a drink then lifted my hips in time to Ashley's movements.
