Page 42 of Tempt Me

“I’m sorry. I went too far.”

“Yes, you did.” I stomp to the stairs. Fighting him isn’t going to change anything. She isn’t interested. End of story.

Once I lock my bedroom door, I open the closet and sort through my not-so-secret stash of Bella paintings and drawings. I dig through the stacks to find the ones of her under landscapes and other designs that caught my eye over the years. But hers outshine anything else I’ve ever completed.

They capture her in almost every light and mood, except ecstasy. I shove them back against the wall, causing a couple of them to bounce back and smack onto the floor. It’s sick. I rake a hand through my hair, but the need creeps along my skin until I can’t beat back the compulsion.

I jerk off my jacket, throw the half-completed painting of the wildflowers at Schrader’s Garden onto the bed, and pull out a blank canvas.

If she knew, she’d call the police. If any of them knew, I’d be tossed out on my ass. But Xavier knows. My skin tightens. If he knows, who else does?

Chapter Twenty-One

Bella

I need water. For the last four hours, I’ve stared at my ceiling, having never gone to sleep. The edges of my ceiling fan are coated in layers of dust. Six cobwebs hang from the soft, swirling peeks of white plaster. And I’m no closer to understanding what got into me last night.

After I snort, I flop over onto my stomach. I know good and well what got into me. Dominic did, and it was beyond phenomenal. The man is sexy, stacked, and ruined every vibrator I’ve ever used.

My eyelids flutter shut. And that was possible only due to his countless random hookups. Which I’m now so lucky to have been one of.

I squeeze my eyes tight. Don’t. Don’t get all up in your feelings. You knew what it was when you offered to reward him for saving you. What man is going to pass up free milk when it’s shoved in his face? None. “I’m such an idiot.”

After I flop back onto my back, I sigh. What’s the point of moping? Nothing. I made a pact to take control of my life, and that’s what I’m going to do. It’s time to tell my parents I’m going to drop some of my college classes so I can go to beauty school part-time in the spring.

My stomach cramps at the thought of their reaction. But first, I need to respond to their email and ask them to put meinto a part-time slot in the spring. I’ll drop two classes, go part-time to Cosmo, and find a steadier side job until after I graduate.

What if they kick me out? I glance around my childhood bedroom. It’s nicer than a dorm with its aesthetic vibe. My desk covers one wall with computer equipment and a space for writing. On the opposite wall is my closet and a makeup vanity.

I inhale, taking in the scent of bacon. My mom is cooking, and I can’t decide if it smells divine or whether it’s about to make me lose my lunch.

After scooting to the edge of my chair, I groan. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I wasn’t drunk, but my brain still feels the effects. It’s fuzzy and throbbing. A couple of pain relievers are in my future.

I launch off the chair and pace the floor. Where am I supposed to stay if they kick me out? With Sam and Ben? That’s a joke. They’d flip their lids, and Dominic would demand I go somewhere else. There’s no way he wants me cramping his ability to bring other girls home. I clutch my stomach as a groan slips past my lips.

Under no circumstances will I move there. I can’t stomach seeing Dominic with anyone else.

I stomp to the door and snatch it open. Sleeping with Dominic was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done–not that we slept. A shiver rockets up my spine as memories of his hands caressing me sends blood rushing to my core.

You can’t fall apart now. I pad down the hallway, surveying the photos of us growing up. Every third photo is one of us–my brothers, myself, random friends. Dominic is in halfof them. I stop and stare into his molten brown eyes. Why did I have to fall for him?

“Bella?” My dad’s voice bellows from the living room. “Is that you?”

“Yes!” I squeal and jump, falling into the wall, causing the closest photograph to rattle against the wall. What a klutz. I snatch the frame, straighten it, and inhale.

“Did you get drunk last night?”

“No.” I speed walk to the stairs, ignoring the pounding in my brain, and slap on a smile. My dad stands at the base of the stairs in a black T-shirt, camouflage cargo shorts, and loafers. He’s in his late 40s but looks younger than his age, probably due to years of playing sports and keeping fit.

His eyes narrow as I descend the steps. “You look rough.”

“Thanks.” Seriously? I rake a hand through my hair. It’s never been easy being the only girl besides my mom. I learned early that their digs were their way of saying they loved me. “I spent a fortune at the hair salon.”

“Funny.” He spins on his heel. “Want something to eat? Your mom is making breakfast and has already put the ribs on for the game. She’s made enough for us and for the boys.”

“It smells good.” The pleasure of small-town living. Friday is high school football night, and everyone gathers at the stadium. It doesn’t matter if you have a kid playing on the team or not. You’re there.

My feet sink into the white carpet my parents installed after I graduated, and the boys moved out on their own. It’s thickand luxurious, making the brown, compressed carpet we used to have seem even more pathetic.

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