Page 25 of Final Temptation
My stomach wavered, butterflies begging to escape. I wanted to trust Myles, but my heart already hurt for the future, when it would end up shattered into a million pieces. I dragged my hands down his chest, pushing lightly against him as I straddled his lap.
“Can I think about it?” I asked shyly.
“Of course. No pressure,” he answered before flinging his head to the back cushion of the couch, letting out a loud chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” I shoved his chest, still sitting on his lap.
“I’m laughing because you have me so goddamn worked up that I need to go take care of myself now.” Myles touching himself one room over had my mind on fire, knowing I was about to do the same exact thing.
I lifted my legs off his lap, turning my back toward him, my entire ass on display. My hands reached behind my back, unclipping the clasp of my bra. I draped my arm over my naked tits, covering them from being fully exposed. I spun around on my heel, tossing my bra in his direction.
I know I said I needed to think about it, and undressing for him might have been a mindfuck, but I loved the idea of his thoughts swirling with confusion.
“Have fun with that,Rebel.” I sauntered off toward my room, locking it behind me with one thought in mind.
When will I put him out of his misery and agree to this friends with benefits arrangement?
For nearly a week,I laid in bed with the same thoughts each night. Sophie and I stumbling into a game that involved taking our clothes off. Playing a game like thatsoberwas something I’d never done before. It reminded me of the many drunken nights I’d fucked around with other women, making any excuse in the book to get them in my bed. Normally, it didn’t take a lot of convincing.
None of those experiences stuck around in my head for too long. They were fun nights in my past, nothing I cared to repeat.
On the other hand, last week… That was a memory I had stuck in my mind, shelved right next to our first kiss. I had every damn detail memorized, allowing it to replay on a loop inside my head.
The sweet taste of Sophie’s lips, how goddamn perfect she looked in her underwear, the confidence she had stripping off one article of clothing at a time.
Not to mention, my tattoo confession.
The plan had always been to keep that little fact about me a secret. Lip tattoos tended to fade after a few years. I made the decision on impulse one night, shortly after our first kiss. I was craving a drink; I was craving her—anything to take my mind off the pain I felt everynight when I fell asleep. My impulses took over, and the pain of getting a tattoo sounded more appealing.
Then I tore my walls down, telling her honestly about my little secret. Based on the look on her face? She ate it up. Marking my body withanythinghaving to do with her turned her on just as much as it did me.
Since that night, we’d gone about our normal daily routines. I spent my time at work, the gym, meetings, and taking inventory of every outfit she wore and tortured me with. She was in and out of the house, running errands, but mostly spending her days at home focusing on school.
I waited patiently for her to decide whether or not she wanted to go ahead with my crazy idea of becoming friends with benefits.
The type of idea and sliver of commitment I’d never offered to another girl.
I was torn between wanting Sophie but not wanting to commit fully. Don’t get me wrong, she was the type of girl who would be worth it. She’d make any guy extremely lucky someday.
My thoughts were all over the place; wanting her for myself, not being able to commit while I worked on myself, wanting to come up with any excuse to make hersort ofmine. The idea of her bringing home another man, hearing her sweet moans on the other side of the wall, and not being the person causing her pleasure, made me sick.
My eyes grew heavy, begging for sleep. Every night, it was a battle, allowing my body to have the rest it craved. Ultimately, I’d shut my eyes after giving into my body’s needs, eventually being jolted awake from the same images that flashed through my mind like an old film reel. Just to do it all over again, falling back asleep when I couldn’t fight it anymore.
I could feel myself tossing and turning, although this time, I wasn’t in bed—I was back in the car from the night of the accident. My body being rocked from the impact of the crash. The jerk of the collision shaking me awake inside.
The smoke, there was so much of it. My eyes squinted trying to see through the thick fog. I needed to get out of the car to get a better look. I opened the passenger side door.
“Logan, what’s happening?” I asked. He was pulling his hair in frustration, almost like he was trying to think of what we should do. Wasn’t the answer obvious?
“We need to call the police!” I cried. “There’s blood everywhere,” I added.
Broken glass reflected off the moonlight, mixed in with the gravel. It was scattered all over the place as far as I could see.
“Myles, we can’t call the police. We’re fucked if we do.” Logan’s steps crunched over the broken glass, back toward his car.
“We need to help him! He could be dying! Look at all the blood, Logan!” I didn’t care that I was drunk. I only cared that the person in that vehicle was okay. My steps sped up; I was running toward the car in a full-on sprint. But why couldn’t I get there?
I’m so close. Why does it feel like I have a bungee cord strapped to my back? The resistance is too much.
