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Cara lifts off me and crawls onto the bed and under the covers. She slides off her shorts and underwear, dropping them onto the ground. I watch her as I stand up and pull my pants back up.
This is usually how it is between us. We start off with our fire burning so hot it could burn the entire city down, and somehow ends on a slightly awkward note where we don’t know what to do. We don’t know how we’re supposed to act around each other. I think guilt fills both of us and we don’t know how to take it.
I straighten my ripped shirt and get ready to leave when Cara’s voice stops me.
“Will you stay?” She whispers.
I turn around and give her a funny look. Last time she stayed we almost killed one another the next morning. Does she really think it’s a good idea?
I lift my eyebrows.
“Please?” She asks. Faded sheets drape over her waist but her chest still on display. I try to stop the boner that starts up again, but it has a mind of its own when it comes to Cara.
Grabbing my shirt, I rip it off in one quick motion. I keep my back to her, as I do everyone else. I don’t let anyone see my back—ever. That one time with Cara was a mistake.
A mistake I won’t make again.
I unbutton my pants again and step out of them. Sliding under the covers, I keep my back away from her and pull her ass against me to spoon. Her ass fits perfectly in the crook of my waist.
Why the hell does she have to fit against mesoperfectly?
I start dozing immediately, but smirk when I feel Cara press her ass into my groin.
Half asleep, I mumble, “Minx.” Cara pulls down my boxers and slides my hardness inside of her. She slowly slides against the mattress, and I can’t help it when I start moving against her. I find that spot that she loves, and reaching forward, I press my thumb against her clit and sigh when I hear her orgasm.
And fall asleep.
* * *
When I wakeup the next morning, I feel my body freeze into stone.
Fingertips trail along my back. Each scar that is touched feels like a fire is lit in its place. I’m about to turn around and tear Cara’s hand off when she says, “Stop, please.”
My heart rate picks up and I want to scream in agony. I made the mistake last night to sleep with my shirt off. I must have ended up flipping in the night and Cara woke up to my back on display.
“This is…” She trails off and sniffles, and it infuriates me. “Did your dad do this to you? Is that why you looked so scared last night? Like he would hurt you or something?”
I don’t speak as my heart rate picks up. It feels like someone is crushing my lungs and I feel completely paralyzed.
When she leans forward and presses her lips to one of the scars, it feels like someone reached in my chest and squeezed my heart so hard it exploded.
I leap out of the bed and stand up, yanking on my shirt without glancing at Cara. I feel so fucking tainted I can barely breathe. My dad has soiled me, and I just feel rotten.
Dirty.
“What are you doing?” I can see from the corner of my eye as Cara sits up in bed and pulls the sheet up to her neck.
I don’t answer her, instead just slipping my pants and buttoning them. Cara is a fucking bitch though; I can never forget about that.
“Don’t you dare fucking walk away from me, Jackson Shaw.”
I turn around and glare at her.
“Yes, thank you. Sorry for being fucking kind to you. Sorry for caring about you and what’s happened to you. You know what else I’m sorry for? I’m sorry for catching fucking feelings.” My eyes widen at this statement, and she puffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Stupid, right? After everything I’ve been though, I didn’t imagine I’d ever actually fall for anyone ever again. Mostlyyou.” My nostrils flare at that comment. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean… you know what I mean. You’re Logan’s best friend. Sleeping together was one thing, but actually starting to like you is something completely different. But it happened, and yeah, I like you. So, sorry if looking at the hundreds of scars on your back makes me sick to my stomach.”
I clench and unclench my fists, feeling like the fury inside of me is finally boiling over.
I point my finger at her and rasp out, “Don’t like me, Cara. Seriously, don’t ever—and I mean ever—catch fucking feelings for me. Because to me you’ll never be more than a fuck.” The lie tastes like acid on my tongue. I will never tell her that there’s something in me that already feels something.
