Drawing a deep inhale, I blink my eyes open again, the wreckage on the floor still taunting me. Everything looks just as broken as I feel. I hate that I let Raf do this to me; that I let him make me feel so small and afraid. I hate that the Kings can make me so scared and unsure of myself in the blink of an eye, and I hate even more that I’ve allowed it to get to this point. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to fight back. But now I’m just… I’m just a fucking mess, like this room.
“Hey…”
Wes’ voice cuts through the storm in my head like a lightning strike and I look up, startled to see him closer now, his brow creased with what looks like genuine concern. I wipe at my eyes, trying to shore up my composure even though it’s obvious I’m crumbling.
“You alright?” he asks gently, approaching me with the type of caution usually reserved for wounded animals.
I nod back at him numbly, but it’s a lie.
It’s all lies.
I can’t bring myself to utter a single word– it’s like my voice won’t work, caught somewhere in my chest along with all the other broken shards of my psyche.
Wes sighs as if I’m being difficult on purpose, moving in closer and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. His touch is tentative as he tries to coax me toward the bed, and I’m not sure whether that’s because he’s actually trying to be gentle or if he just knows I’m on the edge and doesn’t want to get caught in the crossfire when I lose it.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, guiding me down onto the mattress.
I let him help me, just for a second, and it makes me feel weak all over again. It makes me feel helpless, like I’m just a fucking joke to all of them, even when they pretend to care in their own twisted way. The shame burns through me like a firestorm and I shove Wes away, hard enough to make him stumble back.
“What the hell, Ava?” he grumbles, scowling. “I’m just trying to help.”
I glare back at him as I scramble backwards on the bed, placing myself in the center to put more distance between us. Then I turn my glare on Ford, but even looking at these boys is too much right now. I cover my face with my hands, fighting tears again, knowing full well how pathetic I must seem to them.
“Let me try,” Ford murmurs, the usual rough edge to his voice blended with a strange and unexpected softness.
I peek through my fingers as he approaches, bracing myself for impact. He crawls onto the bed, hazel eyes locking with mine as he moves toward me with an intensity that both frightens me and makes me feel seen. Before I can flinch away, he wraps me in his arms and pulls me in, holding me tight against him.
The strange comfort of his closeness melts some of my resistance, and I find myself leaning into the embrace, burying my face in his chest as an involuntary shudder rolls through my body. It should terrify me how familiar this feels, how quickly the warmth of his body brings back a rush of memories– both good and bad. He’s touched me, tasted me, scared me and seduced me. But right now, I don’t even care if this is real or just another one of his tricks. Right now, anything is better than feeling the way I did when Raf swept out of here, leaving me amongst the wreckage like a broken doll.
“What do you need?” Ford questions, stroking his hand up my spine.
“I don’t know,” I admit. It’s the first thing I’ve managed to say since Raf left, and it’s the truth.
Ford pulls back to look at me, then leans in and licks my cheek, right where that pathetic tear fell. A smirk teases the corner of his mouth while he savors the taste of my pain on his tongue, fingers toying with the edge of my torn shirt. “I think I do,” he rasps, tugging gently to strip the ruined fabric from my body. “I think you need something to make you feel good.”
His words hang in the air between us, heavy with suggestion and promise, and for some insane reason, I don’t object. Nor do I try to stop him as he peels away the rest of my ruined clothes, guiding me to lie back on the bed with my head on the pillows.
I feel Wes watching from a distance, feel Ford’s eyes tracking over my bare skin like he’s mapping out every inch, and my responsive shiver isn’t from fear or pain. There’s heat in Ford’s gaze, but there’s something else, too. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen there before.
He glances over at Wes, some silent understanding passing between them like they’re both on the same page, and I know exactly what page it is. I’ve read it before, and it’s a page I never thought I’d turn to so willingly after what Raf just put me through.
“Why don’t you let Wes make you feel good, Ava baby?” Ford suggests, stroking my hair back from my face.
My eyes dart between the two of them, and realization dawns that maybe this is exactly what I need. Maybe I just need to let go and forget, even if it’s just a temporary reprieve from the chaos. Maybe that’s the only way to survive all of this without losing my mind completely.
I dip my chin in a nod, and relief soars like a drug through my veins.
Wes’s eyes light up like he’s just won the damn lottery, and it surprises me how on board with this I suddenly am– so much more than I should be after what just transpired. Maybe it’s because I’m actually choosing it, and in doing so, it feels like it’s on my terms. Or maybe I’m only justifying my stupidity to mask the confusion and shame of wanting it. Either way, I can’t deny that both Wes and Ford have made me feel good before, at least physically, and right now, that’s the onlygoodI’m going to get.
Wes yanks his shirt off over his head, and I’m instantly captivated by the flex of his defined muscles beneath all that smooth, tanned skin. The hard lines of his body look like they were carved from marble, chiseled by the gods themselves as a gift to humanity. He’s the perfect blonde-haired, gray-eyed package, and that roguish grin on his face says that he knows it.
It’s no wonder Wes Powers is the campus golden boy–he’s so pretty it almost hurts to look at him, like staring into the sun, watching everything you ever wanted and everything you know shouldn’t collide in a blazing supernova.
Even after that ugly run-in with Raf, after the mess and madness of the last few weeks, I want Wes. I want to lose myself in the way he makes me feel, want to come alive and unwound beneath his hands.
My chest heaves as he drops to his fists at the end of the bed, crawling toward me with a feral gleam in his eye and a wicked grin on his lips. The coolness of the sheets against my bare skin reminds me just how raw and exposed I am, stripped down to nothing in the hopes it’ll save me. That it may finally set me free.
I tip my knees apart, Wes’ hands coasting up the insides of my legs as he positions himself between them, teasing me with the promise of what’s to come. He licks a stripe up my inner thigh, and I reach down to thread my fingers into his hair, tugging the strands to direct his mouth where I need it most.
