You should have gone for my balls.”
One day, I’d figure out how she managed to appear both innocent and insolent at the same time. This was the paradox of Braxton Fawn—to look like heaven on earth while wreaking havoc on my peace of mind.
Fear and acceptance of what was about to happen crashed together like a wave returning to the sea. It was the moment I crossed the line I’d drawn with no remorse.
There was only the undeniable truth that I was fucked.
He kissed me.
Houston Morrow was kissing me.
Moments are meant to be a seamless transition from one to the next. The cause and the effect. Designed to make sense.
So…how did we go from his arrogant reminder that I was beneath him to…kissing?
And why didn’t I pull away?
A good time would have been when I felt his hands slip around my hips until they reached my ass. The shorts I wore to bed didn’t leave much for his imagination. I’d put all my cards on the table, and he was calling my bluff.
Groaning his pleasure at the way I filled his hands, he lifted me. My legs ended up wrapped around his trim waist. His lips never left mine.
I was the air he needed to breathe, and he was mine.
Houston moved us to the small table where Rich and I had plotted adventures together just minutes ago. Still, I didn’t fight him when he set me down on top of it. I spread my legs to make room for him, and he rewarded me by pressing his cock against the thin layer keeping him from being inside of me.
All he’d done was kiss me.
His tongue slipped between my lips, and I moaned at the taste of him mixing with the cherries that signaled my arousal. It only intensified when his hand slowly wandered underneath my shirt. It was rough and warm against my soft skin.
I wanted him to ruin me.
No question I’d let him tear me apart and piece me back together however he wanted me. I wanted to be the precious thing he took for himself and never let go. I was willing to give him anything if he never stopped touching me in return.
He groaned right then as if he could read my thoughts and shoved his hand underneath my bra. The sensation of his warm palm engulfing my breast and his thumb teasing my nipple made an unintelligible sound slip from my lips. It didn’t matter how long it had been. I’d never been touched like this.
“You want to come for me?”
“Yes.”
I needed that so much. I’d known no greater thrill than coming apart in front of an avid audience—somehow to watch and appreciate my slow descent from sanity.
It wasn’t until Nate Farrow—not my first, second, or last, but the boy who let the guilt eat him alive—that I learned the wildness in my heart, this mania I was a slave to, was truly and irrevocably a sickness.
Dirty whore.
I still believed him as if it had been yesterday.
The pungent scent of olives was heavy in the air as shame gripped me by the throat. Even though I knew it wasn’t real, I scrambled away just as Houston was about to kiss me. I didn’t stop backing away until I was pressed against the black shade covering the window.
“What just happened?” The confused dip of his brows would have been adorable if I weren’t shaking like a leaf in a tornado. “Get your ass back over here, Fawn.”
I shook my head, feeling my throat clog when I tried to speak. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
“You shouldn’t have asked me to.”
I hadn’t, but we both know I wanted him to. Denying it when it had been obvious would only make me feel pathetic on top of everything else.
“You don’t understand, Houston. When Calvin died, you didn’t get your new start. You just traded one addict for another.”
The disgust on his face at my confession was ten times more mortifying than years-old shame.
“You’re on drugs?” he spat.
I vehemently shook my head. “Not that kind of addiction.”
In my opinion, I had it worse. At least with drugs, I could have been cured. Instead, all I had to cope was to bury a relentless demon.
“Goddamn it,” Houston swore through gritted teeth, “tell me and stop beating around the bush!”
“Sex,” I told him with a gasp. I couldn’t quite catch my breath after that. “I’m addicted to sex, Houston.”
I didn’t get a response because a noise had stolen Houston’s attention. I followed his