Текст книги "Sweet Obsession "
Автор книги: J. Daniels
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
“Room for two,” he murmurs, shooting me a heated look.
Yes, please.
Leaving it zipped up, he stretches out on his back and pats the spot next to him.
I wet my lips and lower to my knees, crawling closer. I let my head fall beside his. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“What made you leave Australia three years ago? Was it like a yoga thing? Were you wanting to study it here?”
“No, it had nothing to do with yoga.”
I stare at his profile when he doesn’t elaborate. My foot nudges his calf. “Were you in love with her?”
Shit. I need to get my mouth under control. Do I even want to know his answer? Will it matter to me one way or the other?
He looks at me briefly, just a glance, then resumes staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. If you had asked me that question three years ago I would’ve said yeah. I followed a woman to another country. I felt something for her. I said it, more than once.”
“I love you,” I quietly offer.
His head snaps in my direction and he gives me the strangest look, full of intrigue and stunned disbelief. Questions. So many questions in those bright eyes staring back at me.
I swallow before I continue. My tongue suddenly feels too large for my mouth. “That’s what you said. You told her you loved her.”
His lips part with a rushed exhale. “Yeah.”
“What does it feel like when you say it?” I bite my lip, rolling to my side to look at him. I prop my head up on my fist.
“You’ve never said it?” he asks, his eyes searching my face. He continues after I shake my head. “What about to your family and stuff? Like a best mate, you say it to them?”
“That’s not the same thing. I mean, yeah, I say it to my family. I have to. My mom would punch me in my teeth if I didn’t tell her I loved her.”
“Your mum a violent woman with everyone? Should I scream my affection for her when we meet?” He smiles when I poke his side. “You say it to your friends, yeah?”
“No.”
“Never? Not even growing up?”
“I didn’t really have friends growing up.”
“Come on.” His brow pulls tight. “I don’t believe that. I bet you were very popular in school.”
“Yeah, with the boys. And they weren’t interested in being my friend. Girls were either nasty to me because they were jealous or they had no idea who I was. I never had a best mate.” My eyes lower to a spot between us. “I had my sister, Juls, and we were forced to like each other so that doesn’t count. And now, yeah, I’m friends with Joey and Billy. I’ve known Dylan for years, but it’s not the same thing.”
I flop back over and blink up at the ceiling. My hands tangle together on my stomach.
I think about Mason that night at The Tavern, how he told me all the things he wanted from this, what more meant to him, and how I almost laughed at his desire for a friendship on top of everything else.
Would I laugh now?
Clearing my head, I bump my leg against his. “So, I guess you don’t know what it’s like saying it then. I mean, really saying it. Mates don’t count.”
“No, I guess not,” he chuckles. “If we’re not counting mates or mums.”
“Or Mother Earth. I’m sure you’ve pledged your undying affection for that bitch.”
In a flash, he rolls over and pins me beneath him. I giggle against his neck.
“Jealous?” His hard torso settles between my legs. He tilts my chin and claims my mouth, stealing my ability to answer.
We kiss slowly, a gentle glide of lips and tongues until our breaths grow hurried and our hands no longer hold our bodies together, but roughly explore skin and shape.
My fingers filter through his hair and tug on the ends. I wrap my legs around his waist. When his hips start gently thrusting forward, pressing his erection against my clit, I gasp into his mouth and squirm beneath him. I reach under his shirt and feel the warm skin of his back. My nails pull him closer, my body jutting away from the earth and further into his arms.
He squeezes my breast, taking and taking my mouth until I’m bruised and breathless.
Nothing is hotter than Mason’s desperation, and it’s evident in everything.
His kiss. His touch. The way his voice breaks when he says my name.
“Brooke.”
I grasp at his body like he’s slipping away. I’m worried he will.
I want him to want me so badly he can’t remember anyone before. I want him to distract me so I’m not completely terrified of what this is or what it’s becoming.
I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. His hands. His mouth. The wild pace of his heart.
He sucks on my neck and my head rolls to the side.
I spot my duffle. I remember what’s in it.
“Wait. I brought you something.” I push against his shoulders and he rolls off, growling his protest. I stand and give him a playful look. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”
“I liked what we were doing.” He tucks both hands behind his head. His feet cross at his ankles. “Is it another koala?
“No,” I laugh, unzipping the bag. I strip my shirt off and toss it aside. My bra is next. I look up at Mason and find his attention drawn off my face. “Close your eyes,” I tell him, my fingers popping the button of my jeans.
He continues to stare, his erection tenting his pants. “I can’t.”
“Please? It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
With a disapproving grunt, he pinches his eyes shut. I don’t trust him not to peek so I carry my shirt over and toss it onto his face. He chuckles against the material. I take a full minute to appreciate the line of his cock.
Hot damn.
I strip my jeans off but leave on my blue lace thong. After changing into the outfit I packed, I straddle Mason’s waist and sink to my knees.
“Okay. You can look.”
He tosses the shirt and opens his eyes, wide, wider the longer he stares at my cheerleading outfit from college.
“Jesus Christ, Brooke. This is what you brought me?” He runs his hands up my thighs and under my skirt. The light from the lantern flickers in his blue irises.
“Still fits.” I wink, cupping my breasts through the tight polyester. “Itchy as fuck, though. I better make this quick.”
“Make what quick?”
I shoot down and tug on his warm-ups. His cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach.
He hisses through his teeth. “Brooke. Wait.”
I put my weight on my knees. I’m prepared for his protest. “You don’t want my hands or my mouth, and you don’t want to have sex yet. Fine. But you never said anything about dry humping.” I blow him a kiss before spinning around and lowering myself onto his pelvis. I move my ass against his cock, rolling my hips in slow circles.
He twitches beneath me and I smile.
“Mm. Remember those dreams you have about me, Mason? When you spank me and come on my ass?”
“Fuck,” he groans, pushing up my skirt, holding it at my waist so he can watch.
I grind my pussy against his shaft. My back bowing as I squeeze his thighs. “Do you like this?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
His hungry eyes never leave my body. “So good, baby. Look at you.”
I reach back and tug on the string of my thong. “You like this? Do you feel how wet I am?”
I gasp when he slides his cock between my cheeks, his hands squeezing my ass to fit around him.
Our eyes lock.
“Fuck, Brooke. Do you like it? Knowing how hard you make me. How crazy you make me feel. Tell me.”
“I like it.”
He slaps my ass.
I drop my head through a groan. My hips pulsing faster, my chest heaving through quiet, quick breaths. The tiny bundle of nerves between my legs begins to throb and swell. My nipples harden against my top.
I watch the shadow of our bodies on the wall of the tent, and I realize the moment Mason sees it too.
Us. Together. His long body stretched beneath mine.
He growls behind me, fingers pulling at flesh. His body tightly wound like a spring ready to jump.
He’s on the edge, right there, and I want him to fall. I want to give him pleasure and take my own.
I arch my back and chase my relief, closing my eyes, gasping when his hand connects with my ass again.
“Brooke,” he groans. “Tell me. God, fucking tell me.”
I know what he wants me to say, but I don’t just say it. I don’t give him an empty echo of a response. I admit my own truth.
“You make me feel crazy too.”
When I come, I gasp in shock as my spine and muscles burn.
Mason’s release shoots onto my ass, hot spurts sticking to my skin as he moans my name into the night. He wipes me clean with his shirt, I realize, when he pulls me back and holds me against his bare chest, nuzzling my neck and kissing my jaw, his heart racing and his mouth ravenous.
Turning in his arms, I cup his face, staring into his eyes, pushing my hand through his hair. “I like camping with you,” I whisper.
He smiles against my mouth. “Yeah? Thought you might.”
We strip off each other’s clothes. Mason kills the light from the lantern and we slide inside the sleeping bag. He puts his arm around my waist, whispering how he’ll protect me from bears and huge snakes I don’t want to dry hump.
I laugh against his neck and close my eyes. I might even snuggle closer.
Sleep takes a hold of me before I can tell.
MASON
Getting Brooke to agree to a hike today came easier than I was anticipating.
It probably had something to do with the timing in which I asked, while she was grinding her tight, wet pussy against my hand and wiggling beneath me in the tent, clawing at my back and crying out in pleasure. She moaned my name before whispering a breathy ‘yes’ against my mouth, then slapped a hand to my chest and shoved me off, claiming her orgasm had nothing to do with her answer.
Apparently, she’s a changed woman, loves everything about nature and is eager to explore it with or without me.
On top of everything else that drives me completely crazy about Brooke, she’s a beautiful liar. Fully committed and iron-willed.
Her determination really is a thing to appreciate.
It’s midday, and we’re halfway through our hike. I watch the cute little sway of Brooke’s hips as she tentatively walks the narrow trail in front of me.
Her steps are light against the dirt, quiet and cautious, as if she’s trying not to draw any attention to herself from the wildlife. When branches from trees or large shrubs encroach our track, she turns her body sideways, pulls her arms in close, and sucks in a breath until she’s made it safely past.
So fucking sweet. I can’t stop watching her. I don’t know what I’m enjoying more, being out here with her in the sun and gorgeous weather, or every honest reaction she’s giving me.
After nearly stumbling over a rock sticking out of the dirt, she digs it up, cursing the entire time, and tosses it into the woods with a strangled yell. When a bee flies too close to her face, she gasps and then flips the thing off, threatening to find its hive and burn it to the ground.
I’m waiting for her to break and beg me to take us back. To tell me she’s had enough and that she hates this and me for dragging her out here.
She stops abruptly on the path and I ready myself for her dismissal.
This is it. She’s gone three hours with no complaints or sour tone. But instead of turning on me and threatening my life if I don’t get us out of here, she gathers her hair off her neck and applies another thin coating of bug spray to her exposed limbs.
This is her eighth application.
“I’m starting to get hungry. Do we have any food?” she asks, bending over and spraying the front of her legs.
I groan when the bottom of her arse peeks out from those tiny fucking jean shorts she’s wearing. Again.
This is the eighth time I’ve gotten hard on this trail.
“See something you like?”
Her voice is tempting, sweet and wily. She’s caught me every time we’ve done this.
I scratch my jaw as I resume looking at her, never peeling my eyes away, smiling when she molds her hand to the back of her jeans. “I more than like it, gorgeous,” I say, giving her a quick glance. “If I didn’t give a shit about other men seeing you out here I’d pull those shorts down and bury my face in that.”
“In my ass?” she giggles, spinning around and tucking the small tube of bug spray into her pocket. She wipes her hands down the front of her shorts. “That’s a win/win for me. You can eat that and I’ll eat all the actual food.”
Laughing, I reach out and grab her face, kissing her soft mouth. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
I step back and pull my bag around to the front of me, tipping my chin at a large boulder.
It’s flat and smooth, wide enough to hold several people.
“Want to sit up there and eat? Seems like a nice spot.”
Brooke looks at the path between us and the rock I’m asking her to get to, her brows pinching together and her mouth pulling into a frown.
Her anxiety slips on like a veil.
I follow her gaze. It’s not a far distance, but the overgrown grass is thick with weeds and wildflowers, some of it reaching up as high as her knees. We’ve stayed on clear paths up until this point, nothing unkempt like this.
I know how much I’m asking of Brooke. Bull-headed determination or not. She might just tell me to go fuck off for even suggesting this. I don’t really care where we eat. I’ll sit on the dirt right here, but I’m curious to see how far she’ll go to prove her persistence today.
Another first, little devil? Will you give me this?
I step closer and squeeze her hand. “It’ll be a nice view up there. We might be able to see the lake.”
She slowly turns her head. Her eyes, more green than brown today, narrow in on mine. “Yeah? You know what else has a nice view of the lake? Our campsite. Maybe even the car. Why don’t we go check?”
“I can carry you,” I offer, attempting not to smile at her quick-witted apprehension. “I wouldn’t mind it.”
“You are not carrying me,” she scoffs, yanking out of my grip. “I’m capable of getting there myself. And you know what?”
“What?”
She leans in, standing on her toes to get closer, her hands curling around her hips, her face so near to mine I can see the freckles she’s hiding underneath her makeup. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Mason, because contrary to what you think, I fucking love it out here.”
Brooke lets out a tiny squeak, spins around, and sprints through the tall grass like something is chasing her.
My mouth stretches into a grin.
Fuck, baby. Look at you. Always surprising me.
She makes it to the boulder and, with frantic hands, tries to claw her way on top of it, but her footing slips on the smooth rock. “No! Goddamn it, no!”
Laughing, I follow behind and reach the boulder just as she slips again. Even with a running start, she’s too short to get up here alone. I toss my bag on top of the rock to free up my hands.
“Here, my little nature lover,” I say against her hair, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up onto the rock.
She thanks me through a breathy pant and shifts over to make room.
I climb up with ease and sit on the warm stone. Reaching for my bag, I watch Brooke scoot to the ledge and look out over the tree-line.
She’s tousled and winded. Her hair is coming undone, several thick pieces falling beside her face and sticking to her neck, barely any of it still contained in her pony. Her skin is flushed and shiny from the bug spray. A light dusting of dirt clings to her legs.
I want to freeze this moment. I want to be able to sit here and do absolutely nothing, just stare at this woman for hours and hours. Bask in the stunningly unpolished version of the temptress I met on the footpath that first day.
Fuck, how wild she was then. Luring me. Making it so I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone else.
She’s still just as brilliantly captivating as she always is in any arrangement. The little wolf or the docile sheep. I’ll take every layer of Brooke. Anything and everything.
You’re a wreck for her, mate. This is a lot more for you now.
My world seems to slow.
Brooke moves from her perch to sit on the other side of the bag. She tucks some hair behind her ear, looks up at me through those long, dark lashes, and winks. That’s it. Nothing more than a bloody wink, and a commanding warmth spreads in my chest like kerosene poured over an open flame.
Yeah, I’m a fucking wreck all right.
I wipe my hand across my mouth, collecting myself before I speak. She grimaces at the dampness beading on her brow when she touches her fingers to her skin.
“You look pretty,” I tell her, ducking my head to see her eyes. “Really fucking pretty.”
She shrugs, laughing a little as she drops her hand. “Thanks. I’m sweaty.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she echoes, fighting a smile. Her gaze shifts between my face and the bag as she crosses her legs beneath her. “What did you pack to eat? I could murder some food right now.”
I unzip the pouch and pull out what I grabbed from the cooler before we took off this morning.
Bread with some almond butter, apple slices cut and drizzled with lemon to keep from browning, trail mix, two protein bars, and some fruit leather.
I hand Brooke a bottle of water and set the food between us with some napkins.
“Anything edible in there?” she asks through a chuckle, poking at the fruit leather. “This . . . I’m not going to lie. It looks like a shoelace.”
I hand her a cookie dough flavored protein bar. “Eat this.”
Her eyes flicker with delight as she reads the package. She tears it open with her teeth and takes a bite, her jaw working through one full chew before it locks up. Our eyes meet. Her nose wrinkles in disgust. She drops the bar and grabs her water, tipping it back and swallowing the bite she took.
“That tastes like glue,” she mumbles, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth. She shoots me a disapproving look. “You packed glue bars and shoelace, Mason. Congratulations, we’re going to starve to death.”
I take a bite of my sandwich, grinning. “We can always hunt for food. Have you ever tried squirrel? It tastes like chicken.”
“Me? Oh, yeah. I eat squirrel all the time. It’s all I usually eat when I camp.” She grabs the bag of apples and opens it on her lap, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Can’t we hike to a McDonalds or something? Or a Chick-fil-A? I need a six piece nugget to make my life right.” She crosses her ankles and snaps into an apple slice.
I’m smiling, amused at her reaction to the lunch I packed, until something small and black on Brooke’s calf catches my attention.
I know what it is. I know exactly what it is. Ticks are an unfortunate hazard to camping, one I didn’t warn her about.
Fuck. She must’ve picked it up when she ran through the tall grass. I would’ve noticed it on her before. I’ve been staring at her legs all morning.
I need to act fast and get it off.
I also need to keep her oblivious to it.
“What would you order at Chick-fil-A, if we hiked there?” I ask, reaching into the outer pouch on my bag and feeling around for the supplies I need. My hand closes around a small metal instrument. I pull it out and search for my lighter and medical kit.
“Mm. A number one, extra pickles. And a cookies and cream milkshake on the side.” She takes another bite of apple. “Or a wrap. They have good wraps.”
“Sounds good.”
“Better than squirrel,” she laughs through a shake of her head. “Which I’m sure doesn’t taste anything like chicken.”
I set out my supplies and put the bag down, pushing the food out of the way. Scooting closer, I wrap my hand around her knee and gently hold it. “Brooke, I need you to stay still, yeah? Don’t move.”
“What?” Her leg jumps. The apple she’s holding falls on top of the bag. “What are you doing? Why do you have tweezers?”
“You have a tick on your leg.”
“WHAT? Oh, my God, where?” She sits up and gasps. Her entire body jerks. “Mason! Get it off!”
I squeeze her leg and look up into her round, panicky eyes. “Baby, relax. I’m going to get it off.”
“Have you done this before?” she asks, her voice shaking. Tears filling her eyes and those pouty lips quivering.
I nod. I would nod right now even if I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I don’t want Brooke to be scared. Her face is killing me.
“Yeah. Plenty of times. Trust me. Can you hold still? That’s all I need you to do.”
“Oh, God,” she whispers, blinking hard and sending the tears down her face. Her leg remains tense beneath my hand, but she doesn’t resist me. “O-Okay. Just don’t mess up.”
“I won’t.”
“Mason.” She puts her hand on top of mine, gripping me tight. Our eyes meet. “Please. Don’t mess up.”
I stare at her as she slowly pulls away. “I won’t,” I promise, letting her see my conviction, making sure she hears it in my steady voice. “Hold still and you’ll be right.”
She nods and blinks away.
Looking down at her leg, I grip the tweezers and position them over the tick, slowly advancing. I pinch as close to Brooke’s skin as I can get and gently pull the fucker straight up, making sure to remove the mouth. I blow out a quick breath when I see I have all of it.
“All right there, sweetheart?” I ask, picking up the lighter.
“No,” she quietly replies, her face turned away. “Just tell me when it’s over.”
I burn the tick with it still pinched in the tweezers. When I’m certain it’s dead, I dispose of it off the rock and open up my kit. I kneel next to Brooke. “Just going to clean the area. I’m finished. It’s gone now.”
Brooke nods and wipes at her face. She still isn’t looking at me. Her tear-filled eyes are fixated on the tree line.
Once I disinfect and bandage the wound, I clean my hands and rub her leg. “There. See? That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
I immediately regret my words when her head drops between her shoulders.
With a quiet sob, she breaks. My strong, determined girl crumbles, crying into her hands, her tiny body drawing in on itself like a wounded animal.
“Hey, come here.” I pull her into my arms, crushing her to my chest as she continues to sob. I push her sweaty hair out of her face and kiss her cheek. “Shh. Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over, yeah? Does it hurt?”
She shakes her head and clutches onto my shirt. “I hate it here,” she cries, rubbing her face into my neck, her body shaking as she draws me closer. “I hate hiking. I hate all of it. Bugs and my smelly bug spray. All those trees you pointed out. The flowers. Fuck, I hate flowers, Mason. I fucking hate them.”
She sniffs and cries some more. I hold her tighter, running my fingers through her hair and rubbing her back.
“I was lying when I said I loved it. I don’t love it at all. I want to go.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “Okay. We can go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Hey.” I tilt her chin up.
Her face is red, streaked with tears. Her eyes swollen and sad. She looks miserable and scared, and the worst part is she wouldn’t look this way if it wasn’t for me.
I did this.
I brought her out here and made her uncomfortable. I saw her anxiety and kept fucking pushing because I thought she’d enjoy what we were doing. Maybe not all of it, and maybe not right away, but like everything else with Brooke, I was willing to wait for that moment. Guide her to where I wanted her to be with me.
Fucking selfish is what I am. She probably hates me for this, and if she does I don’t blame her. I feel like the biggest arsehole on the planet.
“Come on.”
I stand, bringing her with me and setting her on her feet. I quickly pack everything away into my bag.
I don’t give her the chance to help. She shouldn’t have to. This is all my doing. My bloody mess I need to clean up.
Same goes for the campsite.
Once we make it back, Brooke stands off to the side while I pack up the tent and stow our belongings into our separate bags. I load up my arms with the gear and the cooler. She grabs the sleeping bag, squeezing it against her chest just like she did when we arrived yesterday. Her head stays lowered as she stares at the ground.
Fuck. She can’t even look at me now.
“I’m sorry, Brooke,” I tell her, ready to drop to my knees and beg for this woman’s forgiveness.
She lifts her eyes and nods, acknowledging me, then drops her chin against the sleeping bag and hugs it tighter.
With a jerk of my head, I motion for her to walk in front on the path that leads to the parking lot.
She’s ready to go. I won’t keep her here any longer.
The trip home is different than every other time I’ve been in the car with Brooke. I’m the one turning up the volume on the stereo, but not because I’m anxious or avoiding conversation.
I hate silence. I hate how quiet we’re both being, but somehow I know she prefers music to hearing my voice right now.
She’s completely shut off from me. Head turned and eyes engaged out the window. She hasn’t looked at me once since we pulled out of the lot. I doubt she wants to talk.
I park in front of the studio and grab Brooke’s bag out of the back of the car. I’m ready to carry it for her when she blocks my path with her body and with quick hands, takes the bag away from me.
“It’s fine. I got it.” She slides it up her arm and over her shoulder, huffing a loud breath after. Her eyes slowly reach mine.
She looks unsure of what to say next, if anything.
I’m unsure too.
I take a step back and gesture at her leg. “Clean that again when you get home, and keep some antibiotic ointment on it. You should be fine, but if it gets infected or you start running a fever, you need to go to the hospital.”
Brooke’s eyes widen marginally. She glances down at her leg, uttering a soft, “fucker,” before shaking her head and looking back up at me. Her shoulders sag. “All right. Anything else?”
I feel my eyebrows draw together. Anything else? Is she dismissing me?
Running a quick hand through my hair, I lift the other between us, then lower it with an exhausted sigh. “I don’t know, Brooke. Is there?”
My voice sounds tight and hoarse. I feel like something’s got a grip around my throat.
She stares at me like I’ve just asked her the most absurd question, her eyes hard and searching. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she blinks away, tilting her head and wiping a hand along the line of her neck.
“Ugh. I need to take about fifty showers. I’m going to go do that and then coat my body in disinfectant.”
Spinning around, not giving me another look or word, Brooke clears traffic and hurriedly crosses the street.
I watch her get into her car. I watch her pull away and disappear around the corner.
I stand there, dumbfounded, my mouth slack, my mind reeling with confusion.
What the fuck? Is that it? Is that how this is going to end between us?
Sure, Brooke has every right to be angry with me. Sure, I fucked up dragging her out into the middle of nowhere this weekend and pushing her to try new things, but what about everything else?
The dates. Our talks and the way she opens up to me when it’s just us. Last night in the fucking tent. Does none of that matter?
I slump back against the side of my car and scrub both hands down my face. Tension pulls at my muscles. I feel stiff and tight all over.
I need a long run. Hours on the pavement.
I practice yoga daily. It calms my mind, but nothing substitutes the mental and physical workout a hard as fuck run will give you. I want to be too tired to think. Running will do that.
Haphazardly unloading my camping gear into the studio, not even bothering to take it upstairs, I lock up behind me and go through a few stretches to loosen up. I hit the footpath with quick strides, running down and back up Fayette Street, through alleys and behind businesses. I run faster, harder, down streets I’ve never been down before and ones that are familiar.
The sun lowers in the sky, dipping between buildings. Sweat soaks my shirt and trickles down my face.
My feet beat on the cement, a steady, relentless pace I push myself to keep even after my muscles ache and my lungs burn.
I think about Brooke and our weekend, but not the shit that happened today. I think about holding her last night in the tent. Her soft body curling against mine, pulling me closer in her sleep. Her breath against my neck and the smell of her hair.
Christ, being with her like that was everything. And fuck me, if I don’t want it every single night.
My infatuation with her started out as an idea. A glimpse of a woman I wanted to know and understand. A delightful interest. But the more time I spend with her, the more desperate I feel.
To have her. To keep her. I’m completely mad for this woman and I may have cocked it all up.
Three hours later and I’m staring down at the drain in my shower as cold water beats on my back.
My body is fatigued, my muscles aching and worn, but I don’t have the clarity I usually feel after a long run. My goddamn head feels heavier somehow.
So much for de-stressing therapeutically. I debate getting dressed and walking to the nearest liquor store.
Cutting the water off, I step out and cinch a towel around my waist, moving out of the bathroom and toward the bed. I unplug my phone from the charger and send out a quick text.
I did promise to keep her informed of developments. This is, unfortunately, my latest development.
Me: I fucked up with Brooke.
The phone barely touches the dark wood of my nightstand before it starts ringing.
“That was fast,” I tensely answer, wiping a quick hand over my face to collect the water dripping from my hair. “Please tell me you weren’t expecting that message and waiting around for it. I like to think my chances with this woman weren’t doomed from the start.”
“How the hell should I know about your chances? I’ve never met her,” Tessa replies, her tone helplessly clever. “And last time we talked, you said she was warming up to you, and that you’ve been seeing a lot of each other. Quite a bit, I believe were your exact words. Based on those two facts right there, I’d say you were doing better than a chump who was doomed from the start. I doubt she would’ve spent any time with you if that were the case.”
“Right, well, as lovely as that thought is, our time together may be over. I’m not sure how warm she is to the idea of me anymore after what I’ve put her through.”
“Oh, Christ. What did you do? And please, don’t skimp on the information. Reed still likes to leave out important details to stories just to make himself sound better. It never works. If you want my advice, I’m going to need to know exactly how you fucked up. Like you can’t tell me Brooke hates you now because you took her for a moonlit walk last night after your date, because I’m going to hear that and think ‘what the fuck is this bitch’s problem’, when really, you’re leaving off the part where you ran over some poor old lady with your car, left her to die in the middle of the street, and then ditched your vehicle because it was evidence. Making someone an accessory to murder is a valid reason to hate you.”