Page 39 of Wild Stars

On the taste of sour apple martini permeating my tongue.

And I loved every second of it, because, for a single moment, I was free.

I wasn’t some heartbroken control freak with a laundry list of kinks.

I was under his fucking spell.

Then, I’d ruined everything with the truth.

Dare would never kiss me if he wasn’t drunk.

Because drunk Dare makes bad decisions.Because he’syoung.

Young and stupid.

And I’m a reclusive man on the edge of forty with trust and control issues.

I’m a bad decision, a story Richie and Dare will tell ages from now to a table full of people who will giggle and say, “Oh, those were the days.”

But despite all of that, despite my own inebriation, I couldn’t find it in me to let the man rot as I had threatened earlier in the day, when he fell on his ass.

Instead, I’d brought him home, undressed him, and takencareof him.Because I wanted him to feel better.I wanted to soothe the tears he tried to hide, the loathing that tormented him.I despised seeing Dare so...so...

Unhappy.

Because of me.

And because I wasn’t in my right mind, I thought the best place for him to find the comfort he needed, was in my fucking bed.That I could somehow make him understand he’s not the problem.

I’m the fucking problem.I’m fucking damaged.

I’m not good for anyone.Hell, I can barely handle my own shit.

I stupidly thought I’d be able to keep my distance if I just slept on the opposite side of the bed.Though, to be fair, my bed is big enough for more than one person.At least I’d know if he was all right, because I would be close.If I would have had my wits about me, I would have slipped him into the guest room down the hall,faraway from me, where I wouldn’t be fucking tempted.

But I woke up at the ass crack of dawn with one arm casually draped across his hip and a solid cock, his back pressed against me, and the chaos inside of me threatened to pull me under.

I shoved him away like he was made of fire, like he’d truly burned me.

Dare only grunted something incoherent in his sleep, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.

And the worst part was I felt empty the moment I pushed him away.

Like the burn had scarred me deep below the surface.

That can’t happen again.It just can’t.

So, I’d done the only thing I could do.As my emotions begged to pull me under, as my breath caught in my throat and panic formed...I focused on what I could control.

I charged his phone, got him some clean clothes.Got a tray of purified water and medicine, fixed a card with instructions, I fed him a suitable breakfast that will keep him energized and feeling better than a greasy breakfast and coffee ever would, and I’d arranged for his things to be returned for him at leisure.

But I still couldn’t get the sight of his dark gaze, his perfect lips, or the warmth of his skin against mine, out of my mind.

Nothing, it seemed, would erase Dare Wylde and his heart killer ways from my psyche.Nothing but distance, of course.

I know that is what I need to do.Rip this splinter out of my fucking skin, tear off this bandaid.

Put some distance between us, so I canfocus.

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