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CHAPTER 12
HOLLIS
Isleep like garbage. It serves me right for being a selfish asshole.
I kissed my best friend’s daughter.
I knew better than to put myself in the path of temptation. Especially with how strained things have been between us. Instead of fixing the problem, I made it infinitely worse.
Giving in was the worst mistake. Because now I know what her lips feel like. The memory is etched into my brain for the rest of my fucking life. She was so soft, pliant, and the sound she made… The way her fingers felt on my skin. Like they belonged. Like I’d never get enough. Like she should be mine to keep. Utterly perfect.
I clench my fists. My cock strains. My balls ache. I refused to take care of my situation last night, but I’m reaching critical mass. If I don’t do something soon, I’ll end up having a wet dream like a teenager.
I cross to my bathroom, but Aurora is stamped all over this space. Maybe I’ll have better control over where my thoughts go in my spare bathroom. Decision made, I stalk down the hall.
But I pause when I reach the threshold. I swear it smells like Aurora. Peggy ceased to exist after that kiss. Nothing I do will make me see her the way I used to. I swallow past the guilt and step inside. I’m halfway across the room when I spot something on the floor. I bend to pick it up and groan when I realize what it is. A hair tie.
“It’s called a scrunchie, Hollis.”
I rub it between my fingers. It’s made of soft fabric with a banana print. She only pulls her hair back when she’s cooking, or sometimes when she’s working on a project and doesn’t want her hair in her face.
As I clutch the scrunchie, a horrible idea forms. It’s sick. Fucked up. But I cross over to the bed and yank back the comforter anyway. The sheets are fresh. The spare set is in the linen closet. It’s the only evidence that she uses this room.
I grab one of the decorative pillows and bring it to my nose, groaning at the faint hint of her perfume. It was a gift from her ex-boyfriend, and she considered throwing it out after they broke up, but decided against it because it’s expensive and also her favorite. And he only bought it for her because Roman mentioned it to him.
I hate that I want to bludgeon her ex with my hockey stick for having had her in a way that I can’t.
Instead of jumping in the shower and trying to drown out images of Aurora naked in my spare room, I stretch out on the bed. Pushing my boxers down, I slip the scrunchie over the head of my cock, eyes falling closed as the soft fabric slides down my shaft.
“Dirtbag asshole.” Even as the guilt rolls through me, I don’t fight the memory of kissing her. God, her lips were perfect. She let me lead…at first. Tentative strokes of tongue as we learned each other’s mouths. And then she bit my lip and sucked my tongue and showed me that saucy side I love so fucking much. I wanted to wrap her legs around my waist and carry her back to my penthouse so I could make that ache she complained about disappear.
I regret leaving her there, looking so lost. But if I hadn’t, I would have done something infinitely stupider. Something impossible to come back from. Maybe I already have.
Out of control, I let the fantasy play behind my eyelids, reinventing the kiss, turning it into more. Instead of pushing her away, I pull Aurora closer as our tongues slide against each other. She straddles my thighs, fingers running through my hair and over my shoulders as I grip her hips and pull her tight against me—skimming all that warm, smooth skin as I rock her against my cock. She consumes me as I thrust into her. Her soft moans in panted warm breaths against my lips.
The orgasm slams through me, and I come all over my hand and Aurora’s scrunchie. Guess I’m not giving it back anytime soon.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when Roman’s voice comes from inside my apartment. “Hey, Hollis? You ready to go, man? I texted. We need to get a move on!”
“Shit.” I roll off the bed, hand still covered in jizz. “Yeah! Give me two!” I rush to the bathroom and slam the door, flipping the lock.
Turning on the shower, I step out of my cum-covered boxers, toss the scrunchie on the vanity, and step under the still-cold spray. I don’t bother with soap as I rinse off guilt and bodily fluids. My stomach twists and rolls as I reach for the towel hanging from the bar. It smells like Aurora. And now every shower has a memory of her naked attached to it. And every bed.
I’m so fucked. So, so fucked.
I wrap the towel around my waist, try to breathe around the nausea, and walk down the hall.
Roman stands in my kitchen, his frown deepening as he takes me in. “Everything okay, man?”
“Yeah. I, uh… Give me a minute.” I dress in a rush and return to the kitchen, grabbing the container of almond-flour muffins. “I might need to stop for coffee on the way.”
“You off this morning, too?” he asks.
“How do you mean?” I shove my feet into my trainers, shrug into my winter jacket, and tuck my wallet, fob, and phone into my pocket as I follow him into the hall.
“Peggy was lying on the couch with tea bags on her eyes this morning. Said she watched too much The Way We Weren’t, and it always makes her cry.” He rubs his chin. “I don’t know. Something’s off with her lately. Was she at the pool last night? She mentioned she might go for a swim.”
I already feel bad about the kiss, and for masturbating with Aurora’s scrunchie to images of her straddling me, but this news is crushing in ways I don’t know how to deal with. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. This is what happens when I’m a selfish dick.
