Page 46
He huffs a laugh, and I feel him move closer. I try to ignore my body’s reaction, but even in this moment, something about his closeness—his hulking frame and warmth—is grounding.
“First off, I came down here because my alarm said the window was open,” he says, setting his phone down on the hood next to me. I look down to see the notification from the security system app.
“Oh, shit,” I say, caught off guard because that’s entirely reasonable compared to the conclusions I jumped to. “You finally installed one?”
“Yeah, we did.” His voice is a low growl behind me that makes the hair on my neck stand. “As for every other stupid thing you just said…”
I feel him inch closer, and my pulse quickens at our proximity.
“You can hate me all you want, Josie. And if you want to keep telling yourself that you felt nothing when I kissed you back last night, fine. I’m not going to pretend I don’t still feel a lot of things when it comes to you. And none of them are remotely close to hate. In fact, they’re far from it,” he rasps. I can feel his breath on my neck.
He was the one who ended things. He was the one who left me to deal with the aftermath of my parents’ mess alone. When I thought it couldn’t get worse, after everyone else in town turned their backs on me, right when I needed him by my side, he left me, too.
And now is when he decides to tell me he still has feelings for me?
I don’t turn to look at him, but I also don’t back away from his warmth. Not that I would be able to with the way I’m pinned between him and his car. The fronts of my bare thighs are pressed against the fender while my back is still enveloped in his hot, broad chest.
“Why are you telling me this now? How the hell do you even know about what I do?”
The sound of him tapping his phone pulls my gaze down, and I watch him open the OnlyVans app. He starts to scroll, and I can feel my eyes widen when I see there’s only one account that he follows. When he opens the chat feature, I don’t have to watch him scroll to know how long it goes back or that the most recent message is from yesterday—for the custom video I was planning to make tonight.
I finally turn around, grabbing his phone and holding it up to his face. “What the fuck, Sly? Have you been spying on me for years? Seriously, what the hell is this?”
His eyes soften, and he takes the phone, tucking it back into his pocket. “I’m as surprised as you are. I honestly never knew it was you. The tattoos, the piercings, you’re…” The corner of his mouth tugs up into a weak smile.
“I’m what?” I challenge. “Different? Not who you remember? What am I, Sly? Tell me what you—”
“You’re beautiful. In every way. You’re just…” He runs his hand through his beard before resting it on the hood of the car, right next to my hip. “You’re just… you, Josie. I can’t fucking believe I never realized it.”
My lips part, and I find myself at a loss for words. Thankfully, he saves us from an awkward silence and continues. “I only figured it out today. You’ve been in jeans or leggings and hoodies, or neck deep in the pool. Then you showed up today in your workout clothes, and I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
I arch a brow at him. “That’s why you were acting so weird earlier, because you realized I’m—”
I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
Sly, my ex, knows who I am, and it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s my favorite sub, and he’s saying things like I’m beautiful and he still has feelings for me. All I know is that none of this is what I came here for tonight. I’m an even bigger ball of frazzled nerves, lust, and unfocused energy than I was when I left the motel.
He nods, letting his soft eyes finish the sentence for me because he’s in my head, the way he always used to be. Neither of us moves. We just stand here, locked in this staring match that I want to end immediately—but also go on forever. Like last night, those soft blue eyes show so much. I see the side of Sly that would sneak out of his house and go to the corner store in the middle of the night to bring snacks over to my house. I also see the side of him that was always lurking under the surface, the one that was completely at odds with his quiet and shy demeanor.
“Well, if you don’t have anything else to say, I’m going to get my shit and leave. Preferably through the front door this time,” I say, taking a step toward my bag on the ground.
He grabs my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. “No, I’m not done talking to you. Not until you tell me the truth. Quit lying to both of us and tell me you felt something last night.”
His touch makes my nerves crackle and my body come alive. I know my cheeks are turning red from the way heat crawls up my neck at the sensation of his rough hands on my soft skin. It reminds me exactly why I came here tonight.
My eyes fly to meet his. “You hurt me, Sly. I might still be attracted to you—” He arches a brow and his mouth pulls into a smug grin. I glare back at him, because that’s not the point I’m trying to make. “I have no feelings left for you.”
That’s the lie I’ve told myself for years anyway. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that I was over him, I know that there’s no getting over Sly Sterling.
He takes a step toward me, and his minty, leathery scent fills every shaky breath I take. His grip slackens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he traces the pad of his thumb over my skin in soft circles.
His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “And that’s why I’ve been punishing myself every day since.”
I guess the theme tonight is going to be unexpected admissions and confessions.
That last confession—that one sentence—telling me that he’s been punishing himself for years is enough to remind me of that four-letter word that wasn’t nearly enough to define our history. It’s not an apology, but it might mean more. It destroys the lie I just tried to convince myself of again. I try to bury that word away and replace it with the one that I’ve used as a shield to protect myself from the mere thought of him.
It makes me want to cry.
