Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Relax,” I tell her with a half-laugh, half-groan.
“I’m scared.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Hudson, YOU WOULD BE OVERREACTING TOO if you were in my position.”
Now I’m laughing, which is ridiculous because this is the most exquisite feeling of my life and I should be savoring it with every fiber of my being.
“Slower,” she hisses, gripping my shoulders. Her nails dig into my skin.
I almost want to pull her down onto me hard, just to end this beautiful misery. Maybe I would in another life, but in this life, Scarlett has me over a barrel. I’m so obsessed with her, so in awe, I press into her slow inch by slow inch. Anything she wants, I’ll give her.
“So I’m doing well so far? Like if you were to grade me right now…”
Her question falls on deaf ears as I finally work her down onto me most of the way and I go still, savoring every overwhelming sensation.
“I’m passing at the very least, right?” she prods impatiently.
“Scarlett,” I bite out in warning.
I lift her up off me and thrust into her again, and her hands tighten on my shoulders so she doesn’t tip over. I do it again, easing her into a faster rhythm until she’s scratching her nails down my arms, bending down to find my mouth, kissing me with wild abandon.
Her questions don’t matter anymore. There’s nothing but what my hands can feel, what my eyes can feast on. I can’t comprehend anything else beyond her. My hands hoist her up and down harder as I thrust a maddening pace. She transitions between kissing me and peeling back to watch what I’m doing to her, like she’s just as enamored by it as I am. We’re wrapped up around each other, as close as two people can get.
I’m panting and trying to stave off the inevitable, skirting the edge of oblivion. When I come, I buck off the couch and press my fingers into her skin. I’m surely leaving marks. Black stars pop behind my closed lids.
Afterward, I settle beneath her with the weight of the world. It was so good. So, so achingly good, but the post-sex high doesn’t last. Insidious guilt must have been waiting in the wings because already it starts to weave through me. Overtaking the vestiges of lust. Popping the happy-go-lucky bubble we’ve crafted for ourselves.
I keep my eyes closed for so long she laughs and kisses my cheek. “Wake up.”
“I’m not sleeping.”
I don’t mean to sound so gruff, but I can’t help it.
“What are you doing then?”
“Processing.”
“Did I break you?” She taps her finger against my chest, right over my heart, like she’s a comedian doing a mic check. “This thing still working?”
I blink my eyes open to see she’s smiling down at me. Earnest. Sweet. Scarlett. I find I’m completely speechless.
I’m scared, actually.
I peel her off me and set her down on the couch like she’s a rare antique I should have never been handling in the first place. She’s so naked and so young and I immediately lean down and grab her black dress and tell her to put it on. I watch the excitement of the last few minutes slowly start to drain from her face as I stand and get dressed myself.
“Hudson?”
I can’t look at her. What can I even say?
“Hey.” She stands and grabs my arm, forcing me to turn back and look at her. “Did we just ruin everything? Can we still be friends?”
Her pained expression breaks my heart.
“Sorry,” I say, hauling her toward me and tightening my hold on her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I can’t say it.
My silence does my talking for me though, and Scarlett’s too smart not to pick up on the seismic shift that’s happened between us.
She steps back forcefully. She’s already wearing an angry scowl.
“I wanted that,” she says fiercely. “So don’t you dare ruin it with some apology now.”
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t feel what I’m feeling inside, like the world’s biggest pig, the worst user. I wanted her like I’ve never wanted anything, and I let that blind me.
Now, that fog has cleared enough for me to feel sick to my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry!” she erupts, stepping away from me even more. The distance seems crucial. “God, just stop. Why are you doing this? We could have just laughed it off and ordered dinner. Watched stupid TV and then parted ways.” She points an accusatory finger at me. “I could have seen you on Monday and everything would have been fine. Why are you looking at me like that?! Like you’re scared I’m about to start crying.”
I am scared she’s about to start crying. It’s like we’re inside an emotional vortex. Everything feels too raw.
I knew this was wrong. I knew it on every level and I just couldn’t let common sense guide me. I wanted her too much, and now I can never go back and do the right thing. I can’t go back to before, when I hadn’t touched her.