Or am I just fooling myself, pretending I can push Corbin out of my system when he’s already worked his way into every quiet second of my days? Ever since I had that stupid taste flashback—his mouth on my skin, his voice murmuring things I shouldn’t still crave—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Which isannoying, to say the least.
I just… the night I spent in his bed. I want to know if it was as electric to him as it was to me. If his skin still hums with the memory of it like mine does.
ButTate.
I can’t do this to him.
I can’t keep wrestling between what IthinkI want and what Iknowwill only hurt us again.
Corbin is sexy and familiar. The man who stole most of my firsts. But I can’t keep thinking about him like that. He’s my past. He’s part of mypresent.
But my future?
That belongs tome.
And I have to try.
I have to put effort into this thing with Trey. I have to at least figure out if I’m still hung up on one night with Corbin… or if Trey and I just aren’t a good fit.
I close my eyes and clear my head.Don’t think. Just feel.
I focus on Trey’s hands at my waist, slipping just a little lower now that he notices my body relaxing against him. My fingers drift along the back of his neck, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath them. He’s a little taller than me, lanky but still solid. His hold is steady. Safe.
His cologne is still too strong—sharp cinnamon and pepper cutting through the thick, muggy air of the dance floor. Bodies press close, the room gyrating with the music, with laughter, with life. I lean into it, forcing myself to ignore the knot in my stomach. The one that whispers,this will never work. We will never work.
“Are you having fun?” Trey murmurs into my ear, his voice quieter now, softer.
“Yes,” I lie, resting my head on his shoulder.
A moment passes before he speaks again. “You look great tonight.”
I lift my head, glancing up. His green eyes are locked on me, searching.
Kiss me,I hear myself say.
The corner of Trey’s mouth tips up. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”
Then, he cups my cheek, tilting my face up as his lips brush over mine. It’s soft at first. Tentative. A slow tease, just a whisper of warmth against my mouth. Then he deepens it, his hand sliding lower, fingers squeezing my ass.
This is fine.
This is good.
Just let yourself feel.
But the second his tongue slides along my lower lip before plunging into my mouth, my body tenses. A wall slams up—fast, instinctual, immovable.
I push past it. Try topushpast it.
Try to want this.
Try to wanthim.
But it’s too much. Sloppy and overwhelming.
And in that moment, I know.
