I climb out of the lukewarm water, towel off, and dress for bed. I'm still reeling from the way the night ended. I sit at the desk, open the jar of moisturizer, and apply it to my face, smoothing the cream over my skin. A knock at the door draws me up short of cursing myself more for being so stupid.
“Yeah, come in.”
Uncle Trey opens my door and peers in. “Hey, just making sure you made it home okay.”
“Yeah, fine.”
He walks over to the window and checks the lock. “Quite a storm out there.”
“Yeah, I made it home just in time,” I lie. The last thing I need is to have him worrying about me.
He takes a moment longer than usual to study my face. I have no idea what he sees—fury, another lie, unshed tears? “All right, we’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night.”
“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
“Thanks.” I scoff. “Hopefully, I’ll let both of us sleep through the night.”
He smiles warmly and then closes the door.
I crawl into bed. Burying my head in the pillow, I scream until my lungs are on fire.
For such an asshole, Edge was warm and tender as he ran his hands over the bare skin of my arm and waist.As his fingers splayed across my bare skin, the pressure from his touch increased. It felt good, more than good. I hate the fact that I wanted more. I wanted everything he was willing to give—and take. Gentleness was not on his agenda that day with Brielle. But who wants to be treated like a glass flower anyway? The way he grabbed me and held me to his chest, there was nothing gentle about that move. He was taking what he wanted. And my mind went from zero to one hundred, imagining what else those hands were capable of. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Practice, Kinsley. He’s had loads of fucking practice. You even witnessed the deed firsthand.
If I let him take complete control, we both would have been in serious trouble. We would both have ravished each other, most likely resulting in the beach having one less lifeguard stand.
I contemplate calling Luca to confess that I'm a complete idiot. He would no doubt agree with me as soon as I told him who I did the kissing with, but then he’d be all about wanting details and pics, and as soon as I told him what Edge looked likeand how good his touch felt, he’d be condemning my choice to run.
No! It can never happen again. No touching, no kissing, even no thinking about him, nothing. There should be a morning-after pill for fucking bad decisions—or a spell to forget how he felt, smelled, and the way his lips were pure passion and desire.
Okay, that’s it. Enough. I shut Edge and everything about the night out of my head. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the storm thrashing outside my window.
Tomorrow, I may or may not tell Luca how stupid I am. For tonight, I’m going to fall asleep and dream about witches, fairies, and dragons, anything but Ledger Hunt.
At ten a.m., I pull into the parking lot of the dojo. Luca isn’t here yet. I unlock the door, go in, then lock it behind me. After throwing my bag in the corner, I set up the mats for fighting. The sun decided to show its bright, happy face after last night’s storm. Its rays stream through the windows over the wooden floor and partially laid out mats.
Stupid storm. Stupid lifeguard stand. Stupid Edge.
Stupid me.
There’s a knock on the window as I unfold the last mat. Luca is on the other side of the glass, waving his arms like a madman.“Hurryup,”he mouths.
The second I unlock the door, he pushes it open, throws his bag into oblivion, and tackles me to the mat. “God, I missed you.”
“Me too. You have no idea.” We’re wrapped in each other’s arms like it’s been a hundred years since we last saw each other. It feels like it, anyway.
He raises himself to his elbows. “I think I’m digging the hair.” He lifts the bunch that lies over my shoulder on the mat. “Yeah, I’m definitely digging it. You look hot.” He smacks a kiss on my cheek.
After everything else this week, I forgot he hadn’t seen my hair in person. Either I’ve gotten used to it, or the drastic change has been replaced with other shit. “Thanks.”
His face turns serious. He plays with the loose strands. “So, how are you holding up? And don’t say fine.”
I shrug, not committing to an answer. I hate it when he worries about me. He doesn’t have to, but if he lost one of his parents, I wouldn’t be able to help myself either.
“Kins! I’m not messing around. How are you really?”
