Page 42 of Beyond the Bright Lights

Love. I shake the word from my head. It’s only been a week. I’m not thinking straight. I’m letting my cock manipulate my heart into thinking this is love. It’s not love.

One week.

Shit. It’s been six days since I’ve had a single drop of booze. It could have been longer if I hadn’t messed up and drank my first night in Silo. I don’t even know why I drank—why I threw away those thirty days in rehab. I could start listing excuses.

I wanted to take off the edge.

I wanted the booze to cloud my social anxieties like it’s done in the past.

I wanted to impress the pretty bar owner by buying booze at her bar.

Whatever the excuse, I still did it. It was only three drinks. That’s nothing. I shouldn’t even count it. But I will and now I'm only six days alcohol free. I am, however, thirty-seven days drug-free. That has to be a record for me.

Could this be it? Was this stint my last?

The thing about rock bottom, once you’re down, there’s only one way to go. I’m on my way up, but how long before I start falling again?

“What’s with the scowl?” Lana asks, stepping out of bathroom looking like a freaking goddess.

She’s wearing a translucent floral caftan over a black two-piece swimsuit. The halter top hugs her tits gloriously, making me jealous of the fabric. The high-waist bottoms begin below her belly button. My eyes travel across her pale skin, from the ink near her shoulder, to the beautiful designs of her stretch marks, and the curves of her stomach and hips. I desperately want to run my hands up and down her sides and around to cup that glorious ass of hers. I want to lick—

“Wow. That was fast.”

My eyes snap up to hers. “What?”

“You went from scowl to lust like that.” She snaps her fingers to prove a point.

I stand up from the edge of the bed where I sat waiting for her to change for our day at the lake. Bruno, Eloise, and Ginger are waiting in the SUV. Right now, here in Lana’s apartment, is the first time I’ve been alone with her since Tuesday.

Finally.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about the other day.” I reach her in two long strides. “When you let me fuck you with my fingers.”

Lana blushes and it’s stunning; blotches of red paint the white canvas of her skin like an invaluable piece of artwork. I brush her long, dark red hair off her right shoulder, and I gently press my lips on her skin, a graze of a kiss that makes her shudder. My palm slides up the left side of her neck to the nape.

“No longer asking for permission?” she teases.

I weave my fingers within the strands of her hair and fist my hand, tugging her head back. She was so responsive the first time I did that. This time, I’m rewarded with a sigh-whimper combination.

I lean in, hovering my mouth over hers. “I think we’re past asking for permission.”

“Are we?”

Lana licks her lips, her tongue brushing my mouth and making me shudder. She gives me a vindictive smile and my cock responds with a jerk.

“Do I need to beg, Lana?”

She shrugs. “Maybe you do.”

Her eyes dart down to my lips, silently demanding I kiss her. I don’t. I move away, loving the faint whine she lets out, and without touching an inch of her skin, I trail my breath along her jaw and down to her neck.

“Mylan,” she moans.

I tighten my hold on her hair. “Who’s begging now?”

I don’t give her time to respond as I bite down on her neck. Not hard enough to break the skin but it will leave my mark. It was well worth the desire that exploded from Lana’s throat. I lick and kiss the spot I bit then suck hard, leaving it good and red.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” I say against her skin.

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