Page 51 of The Price of Forever

Bad move, Jordan. Now shit’s gonna be weird, and you’re only going to want him more.

I was a fly caught in a spiderweb. Except I was also the spider who built the web.

Once the water was warm enough, I stepped in and rinsed off. Some of my tension dissolved, but anytime my mind drifted, it went straight to the VIP room.

The sexy grit of Seven’s voice as he asked me if I wanted him to fuck me right there echoed in my ears.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my head tip to the side as my thoughts wandered.

You just want me to stick my huge cock in this little pussy.

Another shiver up my spine. My nipples stiffened and I cupped one of my breasts in my hand. It elicited nothing—nothing like what Seven’s scorching grip had accomplished. I tweaked my own nipple. The tiny jolt was nice, but I wanted Seven’s hands on me again. And I didn’t want them anywhere near me.

That conflict was exactly the problem.

I wanted so much intimacy from Seven, but I was so conditioned to run from it. To fear it. To reject it, because it led to bad things.

I’d never been turned on like this before—and that brief stint in the VIP room told me Seven had some surprises in store.

I huffed. It was okay to give in to my desires here. I was safe in the shower by myself. This didn’t have to mean anything. My hand wandered between my legs and my mind locked in on the most delicious memories of last night. Discovering the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, the absolute steel caused by his attraction. The heated brush of his fingertips against my pussy. The way he’d begged for more kisses, more me.

My fingers danced over my swollen clit. It didn’t take long; I’d been primed since the night before. The pleasure coiled tight inside me and then popped like a confetti gun. Sparkly bits coursed through my veins, but as soon as my breathing regulated, I knew it wasn’t enough. Nowhere close.

I needed Seven.

I vowed not to think about it or him for now. I washed my hair and body and resumed my morning routine at the mirror. Once I was moisturized and glowing, I headed back to my bedroom with my towel wrapped tightly around me.

Seven was still in the main room, sitting on his workout bench while he did bicep curls shirtless. I wilted, staring for longer than was healthy. Sweat glistened between his shoulder blades as he did his reps. I definitely needed a session with my vibrator now, even though I’d just masturbated in the shower.

Thunk.

My shoulder smarted, and it took me a moment to realize what happened. I’d walked right into the doorframe of my bedroom. I was so consumed with Seven, I hadn’t even noticed.

My cheeks caught fire. Fuck. I scurried inside the room and locked the door behind me. Not that I worried Seven would come in. It was mostly to keep my humiliation from following behind too closely. I sank onto my bed, rubbing my head.

I was losing my fucking mind. Plain and simple.

Something needed to change. And it started with moving out of here. If only an apartment in my price range and any desirable neighborhood would stay available for more than thirty seconds, I might have a shot at moving out of Seven’s apartment.

I took my time dressing, opting for loose lounge pants and a baggy shirt since I was off from both jobs today. Normally I was grateful for a fully off Sunday like this, but with the way my morning was going, I worried what embarrassment awaited me.

When I finally emerged from the bedroom, the first thing I saw was Seven in the kitchen. He now wore a sleeveless workout shirt, which was both better than being shirtless and worse, because it directed my gaze to his biceps.

Lose-lose with this guy.

I approached the kitchen island sheepishly. He turned around from the stove just as I sat on the stool facing him.

He blinked. “Oh, hey.”

“Morning.” I cleared my throat, glancing at the clock. “I mean, afternoon.”

He nodded like he approved of my correction, and then turned away from me again. “You want some of this toast?”

“Uh…yeah.” I swallowed hard as silence descended between us, save the sizzle from the pan. Based on the ingredients he had out—thick whole grain bread, shallots, and eggs cooking over medium in the pan—I guessed he was making some sort of stacked toast. I clenched and relaxed my fists in my lap, over and over again, trying to figure out if this was going to be normal between us.

Silence dragged on. I ran a hand through my wet hair.

“I’m gonna make some coffee.”

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