Page 29 of Her Filthy Mistake

Fuck. Why are we having this conversation? I’d rather fuck her instead. But leave it to her to know that. “Yes, I haven’t touched my guitar since, and I’ve only sung stupid kid’s songs to Zorya since.”

“And writing?” She looks at me with pity in her eyes, and it pisses me off.

“Never.” I shake my head. “I haven’t written a word. I can’t because somewhere along the line, I needed to be under the influence to write lyrics and match them with chords. They’re interconnected. I can’t do one without the other.”

She stops in front of me and cups my face. I stand motionless as the beauty of her heart drowns everything else out.

“You sell yourself short. You’re better than that. You aren’t drugs and alcohol and never were. You’re a beautiful musician, and I miss hearing you sing.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “And your words….” She shakes her head. “Your words spoke to my heart. I used to listen to your music on repeat. Just to hear your voice.”

I slam my mouth against her and thrust her back into the wall. Her hands fist my hair, yanking on the strands while meeting me lunge for lunge as our tongues war together with a desperation I’ve never felt. It’s surreal. But like alcohol, one kiss is never going to be enough and two will destroy her. I don’t care what it does to me. I’m a dead man as it is.

Except now that I’m touching her, I can’t stop. I wrap my arms around her and drown. She’s better than any drug or shot of whiskey I’ve ever drank. Her nails dig into my skull, sending me on a high that drugs could never equal. This one touch is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever experienced, and I never want it to end. She whimpers, and my dick twitches as I suck her breath into my mouth, desperate for more.

Want. Need. Desire. They all swirl inside of me demanding that I take everything that’s been denied for so long.

“Jace,” she says against my lips.

I blink and lean back. Her gorgeous eyes stare into mine as she licks her plump lips. “Your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone is ringing.”

“Right.” I shake my head and settle back on my heels, putting distance between us.

When I drag my phone out of my pocket, rage builds inside of me. Fletcher. Son of a bitch. The world comes crashing back down. I step away from her, putting as much distance as possible between us without leaving the room. I should’ve known he’d find a way to contact me. “Yes?”

“Stay the fuck away from my daughter. You’re a no-good druggy who’s working security at a fucking sex club. My daughter is not going to marry someone like you. And you know it. Fuck? Maybe. Marry and have children with? Not on your life. She’s going to make it far in this industry. Achieve things that you can never give her. So don’t fuck that up for her.” His voice is a low growl. “Because if you do, I’ll make sure she pays for your sins.” The line snaps dead in my ear.

The muscles in my shoulders and neck scream in pain as my future is once again ripped from my grasp.

Zoe rests her hand on my forearm. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sure.” I nod and spin on my heel. “Everything is the same as always.” I grasp the doorknob. “Zoe….” I turn and face her. “I’m sorry about tonight. I wanted to kiss you. Any man who doesn’t want to kiss you is a fool.”

Jesus. Don’t think about her with other men. Just do it. Get it over with. “But it was a mistake. Go find someone else that’s worthy of you.”

Those words are the hardest words I’ve ever choked out.

Chapter Sixteen

Zoe

The door rattles on its hinges as I slam it shut behind me. What’s wrong with me? Why do I continuously fall for this guy only to have him slam it in my face? My hands ball into fists.

First, he’s all into it. And it was amazing. The kiss was completely different from the sweet peck I’d given him years ago. This was…. My toes curl into the carpet. This was heat. Savage claiming heat. And I felt it in every inch of my body.

If he would’ve kissed me one more time, my clothes would’ve been on the floor, and I’d have been screaming his name until the windows rattled. Because there’s no doubt that he can perform. The steely hardness of his cock had my mouth watering in anticipation. I wanted him buried deep inside of me. Filling me. Pleasing me.

Son of a bitch. I growl under my breath and march across the floor. A mistake. I’m a mistake? No, he’s a mistake. A filthy mistake that I won’t make again.

I unfurl my hands, causing the crescent moons on my palms to sting as my fingernails disengage from my flesh. This is it. I won’t make the same mistake again. I need out of here. Some fresh air would soothe my vibrating nerves. I twist on my heel and glare at the door.

I can’t. I can’t walk out my door and risk seeing him again. I might punch him or slice his pretty face with my fingernails.

Rage surges through me. Calm down. Take a deep breath. I inhale, count to ten, and slowly exhale the air from my lungs. Let it go. You’re the one with the issue. Not him. He’s under no obligation to want you. To wax poetically about you in a song.

I snort over my childishness and let the anger ease out of me. Slowly. Slightly. Whoever called him saved me from making a larger mistake. I jam my fingers into my hair and massage my scalp. It was probably a girlfriend, some woman that he's been messing around with back in Vegas.

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