Even though she and I might not be that whatever anymore, until I knew for sure that something was over, I wouldn’t act on anything. But just because that was how I was didn’t mean that was how Nyx was. She had kissed Isaac, after all.
Unless the reason she’d kissed him had been because she was jealous and hurt, thinking that I’d already been having sex with the fucking naked woman she’d managed to find in my fucking cabin.
I groaned and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes hard enough to make sparks on the backs of my eyelids. I just wanted to sleep. No more thinking about how awful this week had been or how much I still wanted Nyx.
No more picturing how she looked underneath me. The weight of her breasts in my hands. No remembering how soft and heavy her hair was, the way it was just the right length for me to hold when I took her from behind.
I hadn’t even been tempted by Antoinette’s body, even though it was just as nice as it had been back when we were together. She didn’t look any different, honestly, and a physical attraction to her wouldn’t have been surprising.
But I hadn’t been interested. Not just uninterested in having sex with her, but uninterested in even looking in her direction.
Maybe I was wired differently from a lot of guys, but I’d never been able to separate a woman’s physical attractiveness from her character. I could find a woman hot even if her personality didn’t appeal to me, but if the most beautiful woman in the world was cruel or manipulative or arrogant, I couldn’t see past those things.
Why was Nyx different?
I didn’t know the whole story of why Nyx had really come to Savannah, but she’d been hiding things. She’d used me like Antoinette had. Why had I been able to ignore my ex’s body, but being anywhere near Nyx, no matter what she was wearing, made me want to touch her?
Not just touch her, but protect her. I didn’t know how much of what she’d told me was actually the truth, but it didn’t change the way I felt.
Was it that I didn’t want to believe that someone could lie about something as horrible as their stepfather abusing them for two years? But I knew people did just that. I tended to believe that the majority were true, and all of those sorts of accusations should be investigated thoroughly.
Could it be that I simply wanted to believe something about her to be true? Would I excuse her deceit about why she was in Savannah if she’d been honest about the rest?
I tossed off the sheet and went into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help me relax.
For a couple minutes, I thought it would work, but then she started creeping into my thoughts again. Except my thoughts decided to veer off from memories and into fantasy territory.
She stepped under the spray, her hair darkening to an almost mahogany shade. It stuck to her skin, the water molding it to shoulders and breasts. Her nipples were tight little nubs of pale pink, just begging for my mouth. My gaze followed a trickle of water between her breasts and down to her belly button. Her hand moved between her legs, fingers spreading herself open, moving over slick skin.
I wrapped my hand around my cock almost without thinking about it. The memory of what she looked like naked was always enough to get my blood flowing. I’d managed to avoid this all week, making my showers cold enough to stop any erection in no time at all. If I cut the hot water right now, I could do the same as I’d done before, but I’d never get to sleep that way. A cold shower would kill the possibility of sleep as quickly as it would my hard-on.
And, if I was being honest – if I couldn’t be honest with myself while jacking off in the shower, when could I be honest? – I didn’t want to stop. Maybe that made me a creep, but I felt like I’d been stretched too thin, frayed to the point of snapping.
“Do you want me to help with that?” Her voice was soft.
“No,” I said as I moved my hand up and down with leisurely strokes. “I want to watch you get yourself off.”
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered closed. I didn’t know where I