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ASPEN
My head pounds as I wake in my old childhood room, last night’s extracurricular activities coming back to me in screaming color. Did I really get off while Izaac listened in the next room over, texting me every dirty thing I’ve always dreamed he would?
I’ve always wondered if he had a filthy mouth while in the moment, and there’s no need to question it any longer. Izaac Banks has got the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard . . . or read.
And I fucking loved it.
Only now that the alcohol is no longer buzzing through my veins and my brain cells seem to be waking out of their alcohol-induced fog, last night suddenly doesn’t seem as exciting as it had before. It feels like nothing but cold, hard regret.
Why did I allow that to happen? I should have shut it down the second his first text came through, but I’ve wanted him for so damn long that I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing it through. Now, I somehow have to get out of bed, take a shower, and face him while knowing exactly what’s running through his head.
I’m screwed.
How the hell have I gone from practically joining a nunnery to having two insanely crazy sexually-filled nights in a row? Is this what it’s like to have finally found my sexual freedom? Or is this just what others like to call insanity? Surely texting my brother’s best friend while I was getting off is the kind of bullshit that should have me committed.
Throwing my blanket back, I let out a groan, unsure if it was from the humiliation of having to face Izaac or the killer hangover that pounds through my skull. Grabbing a dress for the day and my makeup bag, I trudge down the hall, being as quiet as possible. Izaac’s bedroom door is still closed. The last thing I need is to wake him and have to face the humiliation of what I did so early in the morning. I need at least a double shot of coffee before I’m capable of facing any of that bullshit.
I hurry through a shower, trying to get the remains of last night’s spilled drinks off my body before doing what I can to look somewhat human. After drying off, I pull on a pair of loose pants and a cropped tank before working on my hair. I dig through my makeup bag and cover up the dark circles under my eyes from the two late nights in a row before finally glancing over myself and deciding this is as good as it’s gonna get. It’s certainly not my most daring or breathtaking look, but it’ll have to do.
Wanting to be as far from the bathroom as possible when Austin wakes up and goes on another vomit rampage, I grab my pajamas and shove my makeup bag on top before heading for the door. I grab the handle and yank it open, only to find myself barricaded in, a half-naked Izaac standing on the other side, his strong arms gripping the door frame above my head.
My eyes widen, humiliation and horror blasting through my veins. I’m not even close to being ready to deal with what happened last night. I need to make a break for it, but damn, he smells so good, and that body . . . shit. His chest and abs are so defined, and my mouth waters, desperate to reach out and touch him. Hell, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite either.
The things I would do to this man . . .
His gaze slowly begins to drop when he lingers on my makeup bag. Confusion brims in my chest when his hand falls from the frame and he dips his fingers into my makeup bag, pulling out the two wristbands I’d shoved in here yesterday morning before I left for Mom’s birthday lunch—the very wristbands that tell him exactly just how much sexual experience I have.
He rolls them between his fingers as that dark gaze lifts back to mine, a knowing glimmer flashing in his stare. “Interesting . . .”
Hooooly fuck.
Humiliation slams through me like a fucking wrecking ball, and I snatch them back faster than lightning. I shove the wristbands right back into the bag, feeling the blazing blush burning across my cheeks. “Is there something you need?” I ask, doing my best to recover, but let’s face it, there’s no recovering from that because suddenly Izaac Banks doesn’t just know that I had sex with a stranger in a club, but that stranger took my virginity—at twenty-fucking-two years old.
Just fucking great.
His dark gaze lingers on mine, every passing second seeming to suck the oxygen right out of the air around me. My stare drops to the space between the door frame and his body, wondering if I’m small enough to slip through and make my escape, but his hand shoots out and comes to my chin, gently lifting and forcing my gaze back to his.
A moment of heated silence passes between us when he narrows his stare, instantly putting me on edge. “You’ve really been able to hear me through the wall every time I’ve gotten off over the past . . . fuck, I don’t even know how long?”
Shit.
It’s one thing being drunk and bold enough to admit such things in a text, but having to actually talk about it face-to-face with the man I’ve been in love with my whole life? Fuck, I am not even a little ready for this conversation, but judging by the demanding stare in his eyes, I don’t think I have an option.
I feel my cheeks begin to flame, but I refuse to let it eat at what little confidence I have. Instead, my lips twist into an awkward cringe. “I was hoping that you were too drunk to remember anything that went down last night.”
Izaac scoffs, amusement dancing in his eyes. “No chance in hell,” he murmurs, keeping his tone low in case Austin decides to wake anytime this century, but he doesn’t dare look away, holding me captive with his stare alone. “Answer the question, Aspen. How much have you heard?”
Nerves pound through my body, paralyzing me while knowing I don’t have the guts to be as forward as I was with him last night. Things have shifted. For some insane reason that I can’t even begin to work out, Izaac is noticing me in a way he’s always refused to in the past. All the winking and subtle touches. The way he moved in behind me in the pool yesterday and at the club last night. I felt his stare on me all night, dragging hungrily up and down my body as if he only just realized that I’m no longer a scrawny teenager.
What if this is my chance? I can’t afford to fuck it up. But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m reading into this too much and imagining things that simply aren’t there? I could seriously fuck up the dynamics between us, and not to mention Austin. If he even heard a whisper of what went down last night, my world would crumble at my feet.
Deciding I can’t risk letting this opportunity slip through my fingers, I step over the threshold of the bathroom and right into Izaac’s personal space. Keeping my chin lifted, I hold his gaze and lower my voice to a seductive whisper while pummeling the nerves out of existence. “The things I’ve heard you do . . . ” I start, reaching out and gently brushing my fingers across his tight abs and loving the way his muscles tense under my touch. God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long. “I’ve heard everything so clearly that it was like being in the room with you. I know the way your breath catches right before you come. How you growl when you’re frustrated and desperate for a release. I even know the difference between the sounds you make fucking some random woman and how you sound when you’re jerking off all alone. But last night . . . that sounded different. Last night was full of a desperation I’ve never heard from you before.”
He just stares at me, appearing dumbfounded, and I don’t know if he’s shocked that I actually answered him or if he’s horrified by the realization of what I’ve just told him. Either way, it makes me feel like a fucking goddess, and for the first time, it feels as though I’m the one who finally has the upper hand between us.
A raw smugness filters through my veins, furiously pounding through my body, and I bite down on my lips, feeling heat pool between my thighs. “Are we done?” I whisper. “Is there anything else your perverted little soul needs to know, or have I answered all of your burning questions to your satisfaction?”
Izaac continues to stare, and my lips lift into a wicked smirk. I push against his abs, forcing him to back up, and without another word, I finally make my escape, striding back to my room with newfound confidence.
