As anticipated, she melts into my touch and bites her lip with a quiet “Mm-hmm.”
“Then if we’re meant to be, fate will let us find each other again.” I lean down and give her a gentle kiss to her pink lips and she breathes a sigh. Before she even has her eyes open again, I close the door and lock it, dragging a hand down my face.
“Fuck, I’m beat.” I won’t lie, Emily was cute, wasn’t into too much variety, I gave her a little love tap when she had me down her throat, but she wasn’t quite into that. It became clear this would be a sweet missionary escape, with light kisses and sweet words, and hey, I’m not one to deny a woman her desires. I gave her two orgasms and pushed mine through quickly after. I was tired and exhausted but not nearly enough to fall asleep without turning my brain off. The whole evening left me feeling hollow. It was designed to numb that sting of being an eternal bachelor, and yet…
This instant sickness in my stomach is a new feeling, and my skin feels entirely too hot—and not in the usual way that feels good. Everything said, the way I looked at her, all of it was fake. It was empty and hollow, and it waseasy.So easy to pretend I feltsomething.So easy to act like a heartless bastard. Like a selfish prick who only worried about his own needs, wants, and desires. The realization of how easily it all was to fall into is a sobering thought. One that is turning my stomach. I think I’m officially too old for this bachelor lifestyle.
I head for the kitchen and pour myself a glass of whiskey, trying like hell to shake the melancholy. The apartment is dark, the only light coming from the city through my floor-to-ceiling windows. I make my way over, leaning on a pillar that splits the windows, and I take in the beauty of the city we live in. Trying to feel the peace of it, the lull of the busy streets below.
But instead, I can’t get my head to switch off.
Emily was meant to quell the thoughts, help me bury all this bullshit that loops in my head, or at least help exhaust me enough to collapse in sleep and dream before I was back in the office.
Not enough to make her stay.
Love is worthless, boy.
Don’t be foolish, mark my words, women can’t be trusted, your heart can only be yours.
I down the rest of my whiskey and head to the kitchen counter to pour another two fingers, falling to the couch and staring back at the city lights.
I could lose myself in caramel skin, dark curls, and a smile sent from hell, but the reminder is still there as clear as day. As humans, we take, it’s how we’re designed. Despite the way I get an aching through my whole body when I smell the muskiness of her perfume, the flipping in my chest when she smiles at me like she’s ready to play, and the chills down my spine when her huskyvoice calls me names, at the end of the day the Garcia heiress is leagues above. Her avoidance and reluctance should have been reminders on their own; I have no worth, nothing to offer, and when the sun sets and the moon is at its highest, we are, in the end, all still unequivocally alone in this world.
The cold, dead heart in the center of my chest will never be enough.
Just, eternally worthless.
CHAPTER 11
vat of bleach > dick-bag daniel
Rosie
“Monday night catch-up is taking on a new twist, I like it.” I smile at the girls as they walk through the door and meet me on the couch, Casey carrying a tray of food to the oven on her way.
“Well, if the guys get to have their own catch-up, it’s only fair that we do too,” Casey chirps.
“Except, like big dummies, they are out in public instead of eating Casey’s pasta with wine and cozy blankets,” Addison muses as she grabs wine glasses from the kitchen, familiar in her old space.
“Oh, I could die in this blanket right now,” Stella mumbles from where she has burrowed herself in the couch.
“Your winged eyeliner is bomb, don’t get me wrong, but the naked look is good on you too.” I flick a hand in Stella’s direction.
“If you want to see a tit, babe, just ask, I’m not shy.” There is a hum of silence before we are all laughing together. Casey has the timer turned on, heating the pasta and grabbing a bottle of wine,and before long, the four of us are on the couch, a glass of wine in hand and under a blanket.
“How’s the dull dick going?” Casey muses through a smirk.
“Yeah, what is with that? I never got the full story,” Addison asks.
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t you hold out on me, Garcia. It wasn’t that long ago you had me hauled on this very couch begging me for details.”
“Me, too, you never let me get away with a thing,” Casey scolds me with a smile.
“Oh, I’m the lucky one who escaped Rosie’s sleuthing?” Stella adds.
“Don’t jinx yourself, she is ruthless,” Casey whispers to Stella, and the girls giggle.
