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“I don’t know who you’ve been with over the last year. I’d probably catch something.”
She has no idea how fucking gone I am, does she?
Ignoring her useless dig, I blurt what neither of us was prepared for.
“Just you.”
Her captivating stare pins mine instantly. “W-What?”
“I haven’t touched anyone since I touched you, Sofia baby.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”
A growl climbs up my throat as I do my best at reading what’s behind her eyes. I don’t care what people think of me. Well, I do, but I’ve learned very quickly to disregard unnecessary commentary.
I need her to believe this, though.
Shifting her hips on my lap so that her body is turned closer to mine, I want her attention solely on me. My pointer finger dusts underneath her chin until I can level her face to mine.
“Listen to me very closely. You can craft whatever bizarre story you’d like about me in that beautiful head of yours. I deserve to earn every part of you, and I plan on doing just that, but you will believe me when I say that since that night, it’s only ever been you. It’s really fucking scary to admit it, but it will only ever be you.”
Her eyes gloss over with feelings that I know she’s been holding on to since that night, because I’ve held onto it too.
In life, you hear about falling in love at first sight, but you don’t ever think it could really happen. It sounds stupid. To love someone before you even know them. Before you get to feel them, or fight with them, or see firsthand how much weight they carry on their shoulders.
The only difference for me is, that night, Fia gave me all her weight. I carried it for her, and she trusted me with it. For that, I wanted to make sure I was strong enough to hold it.
“Why are you making this so hard?” she whispers.
“Nothing has been harder than the constant reminder of how badly I’ve wanted you for the past two years. I can’t fight it any longer,” I plead, whimpering like a fucking puppy, because I am so goddamn weak for her. “Please, Sofia baby, don’t make me fight this any longer.”
Both of our chests heave. The dimly lit private room seems darker under the haze of both of our drooped eyelids. We just sit together, tension building with every breath, before she finally gives me my long-awaited answer.
“Fine, but just physical. The second it starts to feel like more, we end it.”
It’s always been more.
In an instant, I gather her in my arms, throwing her over my shoulder like the caveman I am, and head for the elevator.
“What the fuck? Have you lost your mind?”
“Hell yeah, baby, I absolutely have.”
I stopped having one-night stands years ago. In fact, I stopped having sex with women in my twenties. They were easily assessable, and I was highly sought after.
It was a choice purely to save what little bit of sanity I had left.
I had women over, yes.
I fooled around with women, yes.
I let too many strange women suck my dick, sadly, yes.
But I stopped wanting to swap souls with women I’d never meet again shortly after I turned twenty-five.
It didn’t benefit me, or them, if we’re being honest.
I was strict with my rule. Mouths and fingers made you come just as hard as cock, and it didn’t make a difference to the girls I brought home—they were there to say they fucked Jett Parker, and I brought them there for a break from my fucked-up head.
