The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,216

from Rhett.

My heart stops.

And then I tap his name.

Relief washes over me in tidal waves. It’s an image of his bed, empty, and captioned with, “IT’S NOT TOO LATE FOR ME IF IT’S NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU.”

I check the timestamp. He sent it twenty minutes ago.

So he wasn’t here tonight.

Which means he still doesn’t know.

My shoulders feel a hundred times lighter, but I still think I should end this.

I don’t want to feel the way I felt tonight—ever again.

* * *

I get a push notification that my ride is a minute away, so I quickly compose a text telling Rhett I’m going home and going to bed. Three dots bounce on the screen almost immediately.

* * *

Rhett: IF YOU DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE, JUST SAY SO.

* * *

Me: I’M TIRED. CAN WE TALK IN THE MORNING?

* * *

Rhett: NO. I DON’T DO TALKS. THERE’S NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO FUCK, YOU DON’T WANT TO FUCK.

* * *

Me: IT’S NOT THAT I DON’T WANT TO FUCK YOU.

* * *

Rhett: THEN GET YOUR HOT LITTLE ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AND PROVE IT.

* * *

I roll my eyes just as my ride pulls up, and then I concede. I tell him I’ll come over, but that I’m not going to fuck him.

This ends tonight.

It’s the right thing to do.

Fifteen

Ayla

* * *

“Knew you’d come around,” he says as he answers the door in nothing but sweats. His tan, muscled torso is going to be a huge distraction tonight, and I wish he’d cover it up because now all I want to do is climb all over him and go to town.

He reaches for my arm, pulling me in and slamming the door behind me, and then he backs me against the wall, his lips crashing against mine as his hand crawls up my shirt.

I swat him away. “Stop.”

He freezes, confused.

“I told you, we’re not doing this tonight.”

“Then why the hell’d you come over?”

“To talk to you in person.” I tug my shirt into place, and my heart beats a hundred times per second.

“Seriously?” he scoffs, dragging his hand through his messy, sandy hair.

“Seriously what?”

“You’re breaking up with me and we’re not even dating.”

“I just don’t think I can continue this arrangement. I’m not the fuck buddy type. I’m sorry. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.” I clear my throat, daring myself to look him in the eye.

“What changed?”

His question catches me off guard. I expected him to give me a manly huff and show me the door.

“Is there someone else?” he asks. “Are you already with someone else?”

“No,” I say, slashing my hand through the air. “There’s no one else.”

“Then how is this all of a sudden not working for you?”

The truth burns inside me, trickling up my throat and dancing on the tip of my tongue, but when I look at him and linger on his stormy gaze, the gaze that still drinks me in and wants me despite the fact that I’m pulling away right now ... I don’t have the heart—not after everything he’s been through. I can’t drop the bomb on him just yet. If I can sidestep my way out of this, maybe I can avoid hurting him altogether.

“I need a connection,” I say, opting to play the part of a future-needy-girlfriend. That should be enough to drive him away. “It’s weird screwing a total stranger. You can’t take your hands off me, but you don’t even know me. That’s not weird to you?”

His lips press flat and his brows merge.

“So that’s it?” He folds his arms.

I pause for a second. “In a nutshell.”

“Then no. It’s not weird to me,” he says, reaching for me and pulling my body against his. “Now get over here because you’re right, I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I press my hands flat against his chest.

“I want something deeper. Something you can’t give me,” I add, because the more impossible tasks I give him, the easier it’ll be for him to walk away. And he needs to walk away from me. It’s for his own good. I’m doing this for him.

“Deeper isn’t always better.” His lips smirk. “I mean, sometimes it is.”

“I disagree. Deep is the only way to go. Sometimes you have to go so deep, it hurts,” I say. “That’s where the good stuff is.”

“God, you’re making me want you so bad right now.” He cups my chin in his hand, bringing his mouth down on mine.

“Deep, Rhett,” I remind

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