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Filth.
That works just fine.
Absolute fucking gutter trash.
I slump onto my bed, staring at what Elle left behind when she fled the room.
No—fled from me.
I drove her away like the absolute blackhearted bastard I am.
I’d ask what the hell I was thinking—except I already know.
I wasn’t thinking at all.
I ravaged her as soon as she bumped into me and I saw the moonlight pouring over her skin, turning it to pale perfection, highlighting every irresistible curve.
She glowed so much she barely looked human, so radiant, her skin kissed with strawberry pink on her nipples and between her thighs and across her enticing lips.
I snapped.
Everything I’d been ignoring erupted out of me.
Elle met me halfway, yes.
I certainly didn’t take her by force, without her consent.
But the second the red sex haze lifted and I realized what I’d done, panic took over.
Every rotten fuckup with Charisma came flooding back. Every mistake I ever made. Every moment when I was selfish and thought of what I wanted and not what she needed.
I shut the fuck down.
I shut Elle out the same way I shut Charisma out once.
I smothered her warmth, her brightness, and even if she barely said a word, I know, goddammit.
I know I hurt her.
I force myself up, knowing I’ll have to face it tonight.
I have to stuff my ego in a box and apologize.
Call Rick to take her home, as I doubt she’ll want me to drive her anywhere. I won’t force her to stay here tonight for appearances when she’d undoubtedly like to be anywhere else.
I pick up her coat, her dress, her purse, and fold everything into a neat stack before taking it with me as I step out into the hall. But the moment I stop outside the guest room, I know.
I won’t be going in there tonight.
I can hear her now.
Crying like her heart’s been torn out and stomped with hooves.
My own heart twists violently.
You did that, you miserable fuck.
You did that to her, and you’re the last person she’ll ever want to see again.
