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LANDON
Fuck.
I hadn’t ever had sex that good.
Imani gathered a light-pink wool blanket in her hands and drew it over her body. Light from the glass chandelier above the bed glinted in her brown eyes, making them look glossy. But she wasn’t crying; instead, she was smiling.
“I, uh, gotta get ready for bed.”
Standing up, I tugged on my jeans. “Get ready.”
She twisted a scarf in her hands, watching me from the bathroom door. “Can you go?”
“We need to talk.”
“I have a test tomorrow. Can’t this wait for the morning?”
After eyeing the scarf in her hands, she walked farther into her bathroom and looked back at me. “Fine, just don’t … steal anything, like my computer. I need it to study later. I have an exam tomorrow, and I—”
“Go, get ready.”
When she shut the bathroom door, I walked around her bedroom and eyed all the ritzy things her rich parents had given her—pink-and-gray artwork that must’ve cost hundreds of dollars each, a walk-in closet filled with designer clothes that she rarely wore to school, a bottle of a hundred-thousand-dollar wine, a huge fucking computer.
I walked over to the screen with Discord still on full display. She had exited out of my profile picture the moment she heard me speak to her, leaving the screen on private messages between me and her and … other people.
And not just any other people.
Other guys.
Sitting in her swivel chair, I scrolled down the list of names and clenched my jaw. Half the messages weren’t even open, their names in bold, bright white letters. I balled my hands into fists and clicked on one, growling when someone named Carl J. asked if she wanted to chat.
Imani opened the bathroom door thirty minutes later, after I had scrolled through a bunch of her messages, some from over a year ago. It was fucking wrong—I knew that fucking shit—but it made me angry. She widened her eyes at me, adjusting her headwrap, and cheeks tinting against her brown skin.
“I thought you would’ve left by now.”
I balled my hands into fists, pushed the chair out, and stalked closer to her. “You’re done talking to other guys online.”
She looked up at me with big brown eyes. “What?”
“You’re fucking done talking to other people.”
Rosy had been my fucking obsession for the past year, a woman I could chat and relax with for a few moments of my day. With her, I didn’t have to be Landon, didn’t have to keep up an image, didn’t have to listen to my parents scream at each other.
It was only her.
But apparently, to her, it hadn’t been only me.
Gaze flickering to her computer, she furrowed her brows and crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at me and scowling like I had never seen before. “You went through my computer?”
Don’t make the mistake of thinking I wanted a relationship with her. Relationships weren’t my thing. When my parents had started fighting, I’d vowed to never date anyone fucking ever. I’d be with Poison for life. But … that didn’t mean she could talk to other fucking people.
“What is wrong with you?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
I wrapped my hand around the front of her throat and thrust her against the wall, desperately trying to keep my cool. Imani did something to me, and I could feel whatever that was inside me about to snap.
“I don’t think you fucking understood when we had our little chat in the car earlier.” I stepped closer to her and inhaled the fresh roses on her nightstand. It did nothing to calm me down. “There’s no talking to other guys, no dating other guys, no fucking other guys—even virtually—or everyone in Redwood will find out your dirty little secrets. You’re ours now—and only ours.”
