Page 66 of Obsessed with my Temptation

Not a chance.

Andy actually left with the guys, asking Dan for a ride. My best friend had already told me he would be crashing at his parents’ house for the weekend and gave me a two-fingered salute as the door closed behind him.

Only Scott and I were left.

We were finishing tidying the living room up, taking the last of the glasses we’d used to the sink to deal with later, when I cornered him on the counter.

It had definitely become a thing.

His back was to me, and I did exactly what I loved, putting my nose on his golden hair and taking a long whiff of his scent as I pushed my hips against his ass.

“Would you like me?” Scott asked all of a sudden.

“What?”

“Actually, never mind—”

“No,” I nipped at his neck, which tugged a small gasp out of him. “You already said it. Just elaborate on what you meant.”

Scott was silent for a beat.

“What I meant is…would you like me? If we weren’t having sex?”

My inner response was immediate.

Of course, I would.

And I did. I really fucking did.

I hadn’t lied to his friends. As much as I’d wanted to tell myself in the beginning that he was probably just like Mark. That under that smile and sparkling blue eyes, there was a layer of rot beneath, festering, and waiting to come out when you least expected it. When it would hurt the most.

But I didn’t think that anymore. Iknewit wasn’t true.

For the past few weeks, amid the fucking, teasing, and toe-curling releases, I’d started to see the real Scott beneath the mask, and he was nothing short of breathtaking.

There was someone real in there. A guy who felt a little too trapped by what other people thought of him to really explore what he wanted until now. He had his struggles, yes, but there was goodness underneath. Seeing him with his friends would have been enough for me to believe it, but then his unfiltered, playful, bolder self started coming out to play withme, and it had become undeniable.

There was someone thoughtful and desperate to be seen under his Princely façade, and the more I saw, the more I wanted to keep him only to myself.

The realization was almost painful.

“I have an answer, but I want to know why you’re asking it.”

Scott huffed, like it was unfair for me to ask, but he played with my fingers, interlacing them on the counter, before he spoke.

“I just feel like a shell sometimes. Like I’m just a mirage, not actually real.”

The vulnerable tone in his voice made my heart squeeze in my chest, and I traced his knuckles with my thumb. “I can tell you right now, you’re very real.”

“Weren’t you the one who said I was hiding under a mask?”

“I did, and you are—but there’s someone beneath.”

I didn’t want him to doubt that.

Why was it so important that he didn’t?

“Well, you tell me who it is, because I don’t know.”

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