Page 44 of Surviving in Clua


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He kisses me like I’m the only woman for him, then leaves me like I’m nobody. How’s a girl supposed to figure that shit out?

My eyes fly open, and I scowl at my flushed cheeks in the mirror. Pressing my thighs together does nothing to stop the needy pulsing going on down there. Mylo has a damn lot to answer for. This is all his fault. I glance at my purse, abandoned on the tiled floor. Alcohol-fueled fury sparks in my fuzzy mind along with the overwhelming need to give him a piece of my mind.

Grabbing my cell from my purse, I head for my bedroom, pulling up Mylo’s number as I go.

SEVENTEEN

Mylo

I’m a coward. Punching the pillow into some semblance of comfy behind my head, I glare at the cracked ceiling of the motel I booked last minute in the port. I could have stayed another night at Jaynee’s. Got a later flight out, a later ferry back to Clua. But that would’ve meant facing Banks at the breakfast my sister had organized. I should have stayed and faced him. Checked up on him. Fucking looked him in the eye and apologized. Instead, I’d played the busy card and bailed after lunch with my parents.

The headlights of a car passing by flashes through the thin curtains, filling the darkness with orange light. It’s 1am. There’s no AC, and it’s fucking sweltering. My ferry leaves at five. I need some damn sleep. My eyelids droop. Tension finally releases my muscles one by one, consciousness seeping away.

Smoke. Screaming. Blood. So much fucking blood. I can’t breathe. Can’t move—

My cell buzzes. My eyes fly open, chest heaving, heart thumping against my ribs. Fuck. Dream. Just a dream. I slam a shaking hand over my phone and drag it from the dresser to hold it above my eyes.

Kenzi.

Shit. I drag my hand over my face and puff out a breath. Phone calls in the middle of the night are rarely good news. I sit up in the tiny queen size bed, slide my thumb over the screen and hold my cell to my ear.

“You owe me an orgasm, ya big celibate.”

The terror that had started to twist in the back of my neck releases instantly. Replaced with a healthy dose of what the fuck did she just say?

“Kenzi?”

“Mylooooooo.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Kenzi.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to make sense of what I think I just heard.

“I kissed someone and all I could think about was you, you big… you big celibate. Even when you’re ghosting me, you’re a cock block… clit block… whatever… you block my sex.” Her laugh ends in a snort, and everything makes sense. She’s been drinking.

“Clit block?” Part of me wants to laugh. The rest of me is still stuck on the fact she kissed someone that isn’t me. I grind my teeth against the need to ask who.

She sighs loudly down the line ending it with a hum.

I lie back onto the lumpy pillow and throw my arm over my eyes. “You okay?”

“Honestly, Mylo-blocker-of-my-sex-stealer-of-my-orgasms? Am I okay?Nowyou want to know if I’m okaaay?”

I shake my head. “I do.”

“Okay, fine then, sucker-of-my-sex-life. I’m not okay. I’m in bed. Alone.” Sheets rustle in the background as if to drive her point home. “I’m frustrated. And horny. And pissed. And I don’t remember how to sleep without you. And to top it all off, I could be having sex with Santi the Italian. But I’m not. Because of you.”

“Santi the Italian?”

“Yes, Santi. I should be having really good headboard-rattling toe-curling sex with Santi the Italian right now. But instead, I’m talking to you. The guy who calls me nobody one minute, kisses me like he means it the next, then disappears like I’m a goddamn leper.”

“Kenzi,” I sigh. “It’s compli—”

“Complicated? No. Mylooooooo. It’s not. It’s you being your cock-teasing self and leaving me with blue balls. It’s rude.”

“I’m many things, darlin’, but a cock-tease isn’t one of them.” I cough to clear my throat, remove my arm from my face and stare at the crack in the ceiling again. If this is a dream, it’s a damn vivid one. “And you don’t have balls.”

“You wouldn’t know. We’ve never passed second base. Also, your fault.”

“Kenzi. If I could, I—”

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