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“I’ll show you justice.” I grip the back of her neck and pull, dragging her toward me. Her eyes shut as she leans forward,only for them to snap open at the ear-splitting sound of our neighbors finding their release.
Dahlia shoots off the bed and dashes toward the other side of the room while I drop my head back against a pillow and groan.
I don’t need a pro-con list to remind me of all the reasons kissing Dahlia is a bad idea. It would only complicate things more, and with everything going on in our lives, it’s best not to rock the boat when it’s more structurally compromised than a sinkingTitanic.
I climb out of bed, grab my phone, and head toward the bathroom while shielding Dahlia from my raging hard-on. My voicemail is clogged with messages from my mom, Sam, and Rafa, all of which I ignore for a hot shower.
Jacking off is the smartest choice, although thinking about Dahlia while doing it is most definitely not. At first, I try to resist, but my task seems impossible as I’m flooded with images of her.
I work myself to the array of ideas floating in my head from our theatrical performance.
Her sitting on my face.
My tongue and mouth fucking her until she threatens to cut off my oxygen supply.
Her lips wrapped around my cock—licking, kissing, sucking—as she wrecks my world with a single orgasm.
My spine tingles with each frustrated tug, and my breathing quickens until I’m gasping at the fantasy of Dahlia choking on my cock while swallowing my release.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
The final image has me exploding. I ride out my orgasm while fisting my dick, pumping hard enough to make me hiss.
It’s not until I come down from the high and am thrust back into reality that I realize what I did. Thinking about fucking Dahlia is one thing, but coming to the vision of her? That’s a whole other level of fucked up.
I wait for the shame to sink in, but it never comes. Instead, my mind spirals with the possibility of what might happen if I stopped ignoring the obvious.
Fighting my attraction toward Dahlia is a losing battle, and if there is one thing I hate most, it’s being defeated by her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dahlia
Ishould have known today would be a disaster from the moment I woke up in Julian’s arms as he grumbled my name in his sleep. It wasn’t the idea of him dreaming of me that scared me, but rather the way it made mefeel.
Our day quickly took a drastic turn into uncharted territory, and I feel like a lost ship trying to navigate a brewing sea of mixed emotions.
I press my ear against the bathroom door after hearing a strange noise coming from inside. Goose bumps spread across my skin when Julian groans my name, followed by a curse. My skin burns at the sounds, and I’m overwhelmed by a new sensation tugging at my lower half.
You could suggest a friends-with-benefits kind of thing.
Except Julian and I aren’t friends.
Just benefits, then?
A tempting offer, but I’ve never been the casual-sex type. I’m thefall first, have sex secondkind of girl, so suggesting anything else could be a recipe for disaster.
Or it could be exactly what you need.
When a pipe creaks and the water shuts off, I dash to the corner of the bed, take a seat, and pull out my phone.
A few minutes later, a cloud of steam follows behind Julian as he steps out, clad in a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt.
“Hey.” He rubs the back of his head with a towel.
“Have a good shower?”
“Mm-hmm.” He can’t hold my eye contact for long.
