Page 70 of Penalty to the Heart

So very fucking disgusted with myself.

Her kiss feels all sorts of wrong.

Even her perfume feels out of place.

Everything just feels off.

And from the way my cock continues to be MIA, he knows it too.

Even on my worst nights when I was blind-ass drunk, I could count on my cock to deliver a great performance.

Now? He’s fucking nowhere in sight.

“Fuck,” I growl, zipping my pants back up.

“What?” the redhead asks, her eyes hooded.

“Don’t hate me, sweetheart, but I’m just not feeling it. Sorry. It’s not you. It’s me. Trust me, it’s fucking me,” I explain, crestfallen. “Apparently, I really am in fucking denial. Go figure?” I press a kiss to her cheek to soften the blow and then leave.

Once I’m outside the bar, I hail a cab home and text Erin to let her know that I won’t be able to make it back to her place to see the girls tonight. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask me why and just sends me a thumbs-up emoji.

Once I get home, I try to keep myself busy.

If I don’t, then I’ll spend the rest of the night obsessing over the fact that there is a good chance I’ll never get laid again.

After taking a long shower, I plop onto my couch and start flipping channel after channel, trying to find something that might numb my brain. I settle on a late-night comedy show and nestle in for the night.

Somewhere between the cheesy comedy and cold Chinese food in my fridge, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I can remember is being pulled into the dream that haunts all my nights.

Smoke.

Blood.

Death.

I wake up in a cold sweat, hating this to be my new norm now.

I can’t go one night without reliving that horrid accident.

Feeling parched, I head over to my kitchen and grab a glass of water from the sink. Usually, a bottle of whiskey would be my go-to move after a nightmare, but unfortunately for me, I drank the last bottle the night before.

So, water and a pill to relieve the ache in my arm will have to do.

Instead of trying to grab some shuteye on the couch again, I turn off the TV and head to my bedroom. If I’m going to end up waking up in a cold sweat in a few hours after another nightmare, I might as well make myself comfortable.

But as I lie in my bed, looking up at the ceiling, I’m reminded of another I’ve recently become quite accustomed to staring at.

But with that reminder comes another—I can no longer get it up.

Fuck my life.

Might as well put me in a coma next to my brother because if I can’t make love to a woman, then what the hell am I good for?

“Make love.” I laugh. “That’s just as bad as Roxie saying being intimate .”

But just as her face flashes before me, my cock starts to twitch.

“Well, hello,” I chuckle when the fucker starts stiffening after I give it a good tug.

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