Page 23 of Deliah
So I agreed. Stupid. So fucking stupid.
That night, he came over. He looked the same—scruffy hair, stupid grin, cocky confidence—but his eyes were softer. Like he’d been hit by a ghost. Like I was the ghost. The second the door shut behind him, it was like no time had passed. He stood there, staring at me like I was the answer to a question he didn’t know he’d been asking.
“I fucked up,” he said, voice low. “I’ve been lost without you.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I know I hurt you. I know I fucked it. But I’ve not stopped thinking about you—not for a second. I tried to move on. I couldn’t. No one makes me feel the way you do.” He stepped forward, took my face in his hands. “I love you, Deliah.”
I should’ve screamed at him. Thrown something. Told him to fuck off forever. But I didn’t. Because my body betrayed me. My heart cracked wide open and let him waltz straight back in. The next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine. And I let him. The sex was instant—like our bodies had been waiting for this moment, starving for it. We couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t breathe between kisses. Couldn’t speak between moans. He shoved me up against the wall like old times. Tore my clothes off like they were in his way. Lifted me onto the bed and spread my legs like it was his right.
“You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispered against my throat.
I hated him. But I wanted him. I wanted him so bad I could barely think. Every kiss was a memory I’d been trying to forget. Every thrust, an apology. He was trying to make me forget with his body. And I let him.
“Tell me you missed me,” he demanded, thrusting hard.
I didn’t answer.
So, he did it again—deeper, rougher. “Tell me, Deliah.”
And I did. “I missed you.”
Because I had. Fuck, I had. But as I lay on my back, him kissing my chest, licking every inch of my skin like he was starved, a different feeling settled in. Shame. It crept in like smoke—soft and choking. I wrapped my legs around him tighter, not because it felt good but because I thought maybe if he stayed inside me long enough, all the pain would disappear. Maybe I could fuck the heartbreak out of me. But it didn’t work. I stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, eyes wet, hating him for leaving me. Hating myself more for letting him back in. And yet—still moaning. Still shaking under his hands. Still whispering his name like a spell I couldn’t break. When it was over, I didn’t feel healed. I felt used. Worse—I felt grateful to be used. He curled up behind me, hand on my waist, breathing steady.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, lips brushing the back of my neck.
But I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the worst part? I’d do it again. And I knew—I knew—that this wasn’t the end of it. The end of us.
The next day, I was sitting in the club, and he texted me. I should’ve known. The second I saw his name light up on my phone, I should’ve deleted the message, blocked his number, and gone home to bed. But I didn’t. Because when it comes to Jay, logic never stood a chance. He showed up at my door that night like nothing had ever gone wrong—same eyes, same smirk, same addictive energy that pulled me in every time, no matter how much it hurt. The second I opened the door, he grabbed me, wrapping his arms around me like he hadn’t breathed properly since the last time we touched.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m gutted, Deliah. Gutted with what happened to us.”
My heart thudded in my chest. I wanted to scream at him, tell him how he broke me. Tell him how I couldn’t even have a shower without crying. That I’d sat on my balcony after fucking a police officer, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. That I’d hated him, hated myself, hated the way I still loved him after everything. “I deserve better,” I said quietly. “You broke my fucking heart.”
He looked down at me, guilt in his eyes for once. Or maybe I was just hoping to see it.
“I know,” he whispered. “And I hate myself for it. I was a dick. I was worried. I didn’t know how to deal with someone like you. You’re… you’re everything, Deliah. I need you. I’ve been lostwithout you.” He touched my face. Gentle. Almost reverent. “I’ll change,” he promised. “I swear. You’re all I want.”
I stared at him, every red flag in my brain waving like a football crowd. But then he smiled. That stupid, cheeky grin that had always been my weakness.
“Bet you missed my dick more than you missed me,” he teased.
I laughed. I didn’t mean to. But I laughed. “Prick.”
Next thing I knew, we were all over each other again. Laughing, clothes hit the floor. Limbs tangled. Mouths met with messy, aching urgency. But this time… it wasn’t rough.
It was soft. Slow. He looked in my eyes the whole time, whispered that he loved me as he moved inside me, and kissed every inch of my skin like he was trying to rewrite the past. Like he thought if he touched me the right way, I’d forget the hurt. And for a second—I did.
After, we lay tangled together, sheets twisted around our legs, our breath syncing, our skin sticking where we touched. I traced the scar on his shoulder with my fingertip, the silence between us surprisingly comfortable.
That was when he said, “By the way… I need a favour.”
I frowned, not quite following.
He sat up slightly, shifting onto one elbow. “I just need to leave something here. Just for a few days. Nothing big. Just a bit of bud.”
My body went cold, and every part of me screamed no. Not again. Not like this. “Weed?”
