Page 30 of Trustfall

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry. I thought you might be cold.” He drapes the same football blanket from earlier over my legs.

“How did you know I was out here?”

“Heard the door. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Shit—sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep, and I thought some air would help.”

“It’s okay. I usually wake up a couple of times a night anyway. Why can’t you sleep? Is the bed uncomfortable?” My heart stutters at the obvious concern etched on his face.

“No, no. It’s great. I just—sometimes I have a lot running through my mind, and it’s hard to fall asleep.”

“I've been there.” He takes the lounger next to me, puts his hands behind his head, and crosses his legs at the bottom of the chair. “You know what always helps me sleep?”

“What?” I ask as I take a sip of my water.

“An orgasm.”

Water sprays out of my mouth like a fountain and dribbles down my chin. “W-what?”

“You heard me. I can help you out. Just say the word.”

“Luke.”

“Emory.”

“You—we can’t.”

“Why is that?” His gaze is steady, unrelenting.

“Well, for one, you’re Nate’s best friend.” And for two, I haven’t been sexually intimate with anyone since my ex shattered my heart into a million pieces and left me bleeding out on the floor, but I don’t say that.

Isn’t this what you wanted this morning?

I ignore the relentless voice in my head. Maybe he’s just joking. He has to be joking. There’s no way he is seriously offering to get me off right now.

Luke looks around the empty deck. “I don’t see Nate anywhere. Do you?”

“Of course not, but?—”

“Emory, I helped him warn guys to stay away from you. I know how he is.”

“Then you know this won’t end well.” I don’t think I even care about Nate right now, but I’m scared. He’ll make me feel good for a night, but at what cost?

“I don't care how it ends,” Luke says. There’s a sternness in his voice I haven’t heard before. Not even when he was hauling me out of the bar. “I'm more concerned with how it's going to start.”

Luke sits up, facing me, and looks straight into my eyes. “Nate doesn’t own you, Emory. You’re an adult and this isn’t the eighteenth century. He doesn’t get a say in your sex life. It was one thing when we were in high school. He had his reasons…” he trails off.

His reasons?I’m not sure what he’s referring to, but he’s right. Nate doesn’t own me, and it’s about time I took control of my own fucking life.

A chill runs down my spine, and I prepare myself, sensing that something is about to happen—something that will change everything. I can feel it.

“What's the second reason?”

“What?”

“You said Nate was the first reason. What’s the second?”

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