Page 27 of Uxpectedly Ever After

"It was the storm," I blurt out, the words tumbling out way too fast. "And the power outage. And being stuck here together in the dark. Just… a mistake." The words taste like ash in my mouth as I say them. Ihatethat I’m saying them. I want to grab them and shove them back in even as more pop out."A onetime thing that doesn't have to make things weird or change anything."

Liar, liar, my entire damn body is currently on fire.

Something in his face closes off, and his thumb stops its lazy circles against my hip, but he just gives this small, tight nod. "Right. A mistake."

His easy agreement shouldn’t feel like a baseball bat to the chest, but it absolutely does.

"We're adults," I continue, even as this hollow, sinking feeling starts to spread through my chest. "We can admit that things got a little intense last night, but we can also agree that it probably shouldn't happen again."

His eyes narrow. "Shouldn't," he repeats slowly, his gaze intense. "Or… can't?"

The question just hangs there between us. "Both," I finally manage to choke out, ignoring the way every single cell in my body is screaming at me to shut the hell up.

Why am I even doing this again?

Oh, right. My overprotective brother. And my very specific life goals. And the fact that Banks is exactly the type of guy to sleep with a woman and be gone before the sun even thinks about rising.

There are a million perfectly logical reasons, but they all feel flimsy and unimportant right now when all I really want to do is reach out and hold on to him. "You're Kasen's best friend. I'm his little sister. We're temporary roommates. You only do casual, and I don’t exactly have the time or the inclination for anything complicated. It would be a disaster."

His eyes roam over my face for what feels like an eternity, like he's searching for something. I hold my breath, waiting. Finally, he nods once, his jaw clenching. "Sure. It’s not a big deal. Nothing needs to change."

I should feel relieved. This is exactly what I wanted him to say, right? So why does it feel like he just reached into my chest and crushed something vital?

I’m the one who called what we did a mistake in the first place, so why the hell are my eyes stinging like I’m about to cry?

"Great," I say, forcing a bright, cheerful smile that feels like it might crack my face in half. "So… we're good then?"

"We're good," he agrees, and the smile he gives me in return doesn't even come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. Then heleans forward and presses a quick, soft kiss to my forehead that somehow manages to hurt way worse than if he'd just slapped me across the face. "I should probably go take a shower."

He slides out of bed, and I watch every single ripple of muscle in his back as he stretches. I really shouldn't look. It's only going to make this whole thing even harder. But I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the man who completely and utterly wrecked me just a few short hours ago.

I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over. I’m starting to have this awful feeling that he might have just ruined me for anyone else.

At the door, he stops and turns back. The raw, honest expression on his face makes my breath catch in my throat—it’s something that wasn't there even just a minute ago when we were both lying our asses off to each other.

"For what it's worth, Freckles," he says, his voice low and rough, like he hasn't quite cleared the sleep from it yet, "last night was the best damn mistake I've ever made in my entire life. And I wouldn't take back a single fucking second of it."

Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone in my bedroom with wrinkled sheets that still smell like him and the feeling that we just made everything a thousand times more complicated by pretending last night wasn’t everything.

Because no matter what kind of bullshit we just fed each other, I know—I absolutely know—that nothing between us will ever, ever be the same again.

And the only thing that might be worse than knowing it was a terrible idea?

Wanting to do it all over again.

A month is a long goddamn time to pretend you’re not crawling out of your skin for someone who sleeps less than fifty feet away.

That you’re not completely fucked up and obsessed.

Thirty-three fucking days since that night in the middle of the storm. Thirty-three days of Clover breezing around in tiny sleep shorts, daring me not to picture ripping them off. Thirty-three days of casual brushes in the hall that set my nerves on fire. Thirty-three days of replaying exactly how she tastes, how she sounds when she comes, how perfectly she fit around me.

And thirty-three days of acting like it never happened.

“Priestly!” Captain Morgan’s bark slices through my memories like a buzz saw. “Quit daydreaming and get your ass back on the platform!”

I blink, realizing I’m dangling twenty feet above the training yard, harnessed up like a Christmas ornament. The rescue dummy sways below me on the rope I’m supposed to be controlling. Instead, I’ve been busy picturing Clover’s fingernails raking down my back.

“Shit. Sorry, Cap!” I yank the line to continue the exercise.

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