Page 33 of Curvy Cabin Fever
His eyes flash. “Try me.”
I try to yank away, but he hauls me closer instead.
His grip is firm, but his touch is warm and solid.
Fuck.
I was so focused on getting out; I didn’t prepare for what it would feel like to havehimpull me back in.
“Damien,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
He exhales sharply, like my pain physically hits him. “Rhett didn’t mean it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
He did.
“He—”
“—is sorry,” another voice cuts in, pushing us further into the room.
Morgan steps inside, closing the door behind him, effectively caging me in.
No, no, no. Not both of them. This isn’t fair.
I take a step back, my pulse hammering as I glance between them.
“I don’t care,” I remark quickly, shaking my head. “I don’t care if he’s sorry. You don’t speak to people like that.”
Morgan sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.
But Damien?
Damien doesn’t let go of me. His grip isn’t tight or forceful, but it’s there, keeping me still like he knows the second he lets go, I’ll bolt.
And he wouldn’t be wrong.
Morgan watches me carefully, his usual playful smirk nowhere in sight. Instead, there’s something calculating in his gaze, like he’s trying to piece me back together, figure out where my head is at.
I can’t do this.
I take a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Let me go.”
Damien doesn’t.
Instead, he softens his grip, his thumbs brushing against my sides like he’s trying to calm me.
My body reacts before my brain can stop it. I lean into his warmth, my eyes squeezing shut as I try to ignore the way he feels so damn solid, so damn real.
I hate this.
I hate how easy it is to want them.
I hate how much it hurts to think I was just a game to them.
Morgan steps closer, and I snap my eyes open, my back pressing against Damien’s chest now.
