Page 72 of Scarred

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly as I stand on wobbly legs and turn around, wishing I hadn’t. His eyes avert mine, and he runs a hand through his unruly hair. “If I was too rough…”

“No,” I say, cutting him off. “It was…it was everything I’ve always wanted to feel.”

He hesitates briefly, like he’s about to say something else, but nods his head slightly instead before walking to the bathroom to clean up.

I pull the rest of my pins out of my hair and run my fingers through it, trying to tame the mess. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, I quickly search for my thong and slip it on before stepping into my dress.

He stops when he sees me pulling up the zipper of my dress.

“You’re leaving,” he states, and I notice he’s wearing black boxer briefs again.

“Yes,” I say quickly, pulling my eyes away before they betray me. “No emotions, remember?”

“I remember,” he says flatly.

Afraid to see regret in his eyes, I keep my eyes trained on anything but him.

I can do this, I tell myself, picking up my shoes off the floor and sitting on the bed to fasten the straps.

From the heavy energy in the room, I can tell he’s about to back away from me again, but this time it’s me who’s doing the leaving first.

“Let me at least walk you back to your room,” he sighs, when I stand up to leave.

“It’s a hotel hallway, not the streets of New York City,” I laugh, but don’t feel the humor at all in this situation as I head out of the bedroom to the front door. “I guess I’ll see you at Scarlett’s dance class unless you ghost me again and have Mae take her instead.” I throw the little jab at him over my shoulder, even though it’s petty. It feels good to gain some control back when it feels like I’ve lost it all to him.

My heels click on the tiled floor as I reach for my purse by the bar and close the door behind me.

Feeling damn proud of myself for not getting wrapped up in my emotions, I press the elevator button and step inside when it opens.

As soon as the door closes, I feel the emptiness he left behind. My eyes prick with tears, and I squeeze them shut before they can fall.

Damn it.

So much for keeping my heart out of it.

I tilt my head back, and it thuds against the wall as I stare at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I’m going to pretend that what we just had didn’t happen. It was more than just sex, whether he wants to admit it or not. The connection was felt too deep for it to be strictly physical.

My phone dings in my purse, startling me, and I dig it out.

I read the notification that just popped up from my work scheduler.

Monday, 2 PM

Cayden Blade

Restorative Yoga

My phone dings several more times, filling up every available time slot I have for the next two weeks, except for days when I know he’s on the road for away games.

A text message comes through, and a smile touches my lips.

Mr. Serious

You're not getting away that easily.

Another comes through, and I feel the familiar rush of heat to my cheeks.

Mr. Serious