After one feverish night with Tyler Evans, Rory is never supposed to see the man draped in enigmas and devilish charms again.
Six months later, she's deep into a summer fling with Chace. As their fling becomes a committed relationship, she's adamant...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I kiss Rory's bruised knuckles as she drifts off into a sex induced slumber. Wild waves are spread across the pillows while her skin is flushed and sweating. She could barely last a second after I finished before she was out cold. I run my thumb over the tender skin and scowl. Who the fuck touched you? The entire time we were having sex, my mind drifted to far more important things than satisfying her hunger. I want to know exactly who touched her so I can beat the shit out of him. I want to ask Rory if she's truly okay about everything that happened tonight. Chances are, her consumption of drugs and overzealous desires was an act to suppress hazardous emotions.
Did she want sex because she actually wanted me or to feel better?
We haven't dated that long. Five months. Who knows how she was before she met me? If she finds things like riding a motorcycle in a street race while running from the cops exciting-my stomach sinks-how long before she finds me too boring and reserved?
"Don't fall for him," I whisper against her knuckles, brushing my lips over them. "I know you've got a lot in common, but...so do we. I want you to be happy with me. You make me happier than anything I've ever had in this fucked up world. So...please don't fall for him." I shut my eyes and listen to her reassuring breaths, pretending they're her confirmation.
Rory rustles beneath the covers, turning her slumbering face towards me. Her plush cheeks are still warm and her body is curled up in a vulnerable position. I smile gently and brush frizzy hair away from her face. Leaning over to kiss her forehead, I whisper, "I adore you, Rory Hernandez. Don't ever change."
Though I pull away right after and slide off the edge of the bed. I tug on my discarded briefs and sweats before easing out of the bedroom. She's going to come down pretty hard when she wakes up. Who knows how much coke they did, and she was apparent about how numb her mouth and face were getting throughout the night. My chest aches.
This is too familiar.
I grab a bottle of water from the kitchen and pain meds from the bathroom. She's going to need as much hydration and pain relief as she can get and hopefully feel decent enough to still enjoy our last day together. Who knows how long her hangover will last and when the worst of it will come? She might end up using more to avoid fully enduring it while I'm gone.
And Tyler would kill for any opportunity to get high.
My gaze falls to his door down the hall from ours. It's shut but the glow of light lets me know he's awake. I hesitate, gripping the water and bottle of pills in my hands. I should leave it. Yet an intractable part of me turns down the hall. I lean against his door for a moment, letting him know I'm coming from the groan of my weight before pushing inside. He's lounged across his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes aimed at the ceiling, not bothering to acknowledge me.
