“I’m his.” It’s a whisper—a lie at its core. “It doesn’t matter what we did. I’m still his. And you need to go.”
He’ll tire of me anyway, it’s just a matter of time. Crew likes the chase, but now that I’m caught, he’ll eventually move on.
I dip around him, like if I stay out of reach it’ll make him easier to resist. But he doesn’t leave, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me as I strip out of my shirt and jeans and climb into bed.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Crew says, an edge to his tone as he watches me bury myself in the blanket.
“Neither do you.”
The asshole smirks like it’s a challenge. One look that’s so like him my belly flutters under his amused gaze. He steps forward, pausing at the foot of the bed. He’s still wearing the sweatpants that show off everything I shouldn’t be thinking about. His black T-shirt hugs his chest and his tattooed arms and hands flex. His dark hair falls just over the ridge of his eyes. Silver focus I can’t escape.
Wrapping myself in my covers, I have to clench my thighs. The smallest tick of a wicked smile, and I know he’s reading my lust all over me.
“You should leave before people get the wrong idea,” I say, trying to find my confidence with him sucking the air from the room. His presence is gasoline, and he hands me the matches. I strike them each and every time.
“It’s just us here, Echo.” He leans forward. “I’m not even touching you. Is the fact that you still feel me inside you drawing out your guilt?”
“Asshole.” I clench my fingers and narrow my gaze.
And he feeds on my reaction.
“Careful with that mouth. You know how much I love it when you hate me.”
“That’s your problem.” And mine, even if I won’t admit that to him. “But we can’t. Not again. Not after…”
I can’t finish the sentence. Tears sting my eyes as I’m being ripped down the middle inside. I belong to Rhett. He’s safe. He’s good. Crew is simply trying to prove a point, and I hate him for it.
My heart hammers like it’s going to explode as Crew plants both palms on the foot of my bed and leans forward. The ink from his arms might as well crawl from his skin through the room. Black ink spreading this obsession we’re feeding.
“He doesn’t see you, Echo. I do.” Crew’s amusement fades. “He’s incapable of it.”
“And what is it you think you see?” I challenge him.
His fingers grip the blanket. “Every dark thing you try to bury. All the things you pretend don’t exist. I see you.”
“Just because you see my darkness doesn’t mean it’s all I am.”
“What else are you, Goldie?” His fingers clench the blanket tighter, and in one swift pull, he tugs it straight off the bed, leaving me bare in my bra and underwear.
My skin prickles in the cold room as I’m exposed to him.
“The light? My brother’s innocent, perfect angel?” He tilts his head. “Or does he already know I fucked that out of you?”
“I hate you.”
He chuckles darkly. “You always hate me.”
“You’realwaysan asshole.” I spit back at him, not that he flinches. If anything, he probably accepts it as a compliment.
“You like that about me.”
“No, I don’t.”
He ticks his head to the side.
“Why are you here, Crew? You’ve already taken my virginity and had your fun. And we both know you don’t care about the women you fuck the second you’re done with them, so is this about work because, trust me, I won’t tell anyone. And if it’s about my virginity, I already told you I wasn’t holding onto it because it was important. We’re good.”
It doesn’t matter that I’m the one speaking, every word rakes my tongue on the way out. Bleeds my heart and burns my lips. Because I really want to believe all of it, but I don’t anymore. My virginity wasn’t important until Crew, and now it hurts that he took it when I can’t be his.
