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“Why?”
Because you’re an asshole.
He smiles.
I shake my head, knowing I’m an idiot for it, knowing I’m going to go home with him. I’m pretty sure neither of us could stop this, even if we wanted to.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” he tells me, voice as smooth as silk.
I say nothing.
Lance
I wake before Scarlet. My eyes are glued to her as I lie in the quiet of my home, painfully taking her in.
It’s been too long since I’ve had her this close. Too long since I’ve heard her laugh and felt her hands on my body—roaming my skin. We didn’t have sex last night. I wouldn’t let myself have that part of her.
But we kissed. Kissed so damn much my lips are in tatters. We lay together for hours while she told me about her job, the estate, and her mum. I only listened, committing it all to memory.
And now, lying here next to her in the cold light of day, I only feel hate. Hate for myself. For allowing her to want me. Allowing her to wrap around me like only she knows how, smothering the bad parts I never want her to find.
She does it every time.
Over and over, no matter how long it’s been.
No matter what I’ve done.
Last night proved how weak I am. How easily I can forget what I did to Nina and Mason and act out of pure selfish need. She was mad at me, and I couldn’t stand it. Wouldn’t let it be.
“You’re awake, but I don’t smell coffee.” She peeps open one eye, chasing away my thoughts. “What gives, Sullivan?”
“You sleep like the dead.”
She smiles into the pillow, not bothering to move her body as her arm slips from the sheets. The back of her hand brushes tenderly down my chest. “Good morning,” she whispers.
I can’t help myself. I lean in and dust my lips over hers. “Good morning, Scarlet.”
She rolls her lips as I settle back on the pillow as if it’ll savour the touch. I lightly catch hold of her hand on my chest, savouring her.
The silence settles around us, comfortable yet loud. And I know she’s thinking about last night. The way we were. The way she kissed me as if nothing had happened. As if time hadn’t passed and we hadn’t been through all we had.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, the elevator whirling as we’re carried to my floor.
I can’t stop kissing her.
Touching her.
Holding her.
“I’m so so sorry, Scar.”
Her hands are in my hair, on my neck, her legs slung tightly around my hips as she clings to me. Desperate. And I’m desperate for her. Needing her to keep chasing away the feelings I don’t want to feel. The feelings I haven’t felt since she arrived at the club tonight. The feelings that will fight to drown me the moment she’s gone.
“Stop apologising.” She pulls back an inch to look at me, her eyes searching my face. “Forget about what we’ve done. I don’t care about any of it tonight. I just want you, Lance.”
My jaw locks, and I reach up, sliding a hand into her hair. I should stop. Wanting her this much is dangerous. “I don’t think I can do this again if I don’t get to keep you at the end of it. I can’t walk away from you again.”
Her smile drops, recognition of the stripped words tumbling from my mouth.
