Page 22 of Trouble

Me: You could share the bed with us.

My chest tightens as I wait for the dots to dance, and my mind races with thoughts of what could happen if he did.

I know he won’t take me up on the offer, but the image of him in my bed, with her, both of them naked on either side of me…

“Fuck.” With fumbling hands, I undo my belt and suit pants and pull my cock out. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.

In my mind, it’s not my rough hand gripping my cock, it’s Declan’s. The way he strokes me instantly sends heat rushing through my veins. He tells Mel to spit on it in that gruff way of his. I whimper at the mere thought, closing my eyes and losing myself to the dream.

CHAPTER 11

Melina

Don’tyou dare let him see you cry…

All I ever do is sigh.

Just look me in the eye.

“Ugh,” I growl.Cry. Sigh. Eye.That’sthe best I can come up with?

“Everything okay?” Declan asks as he waltzes into the kitchen wearing his standard uniform—black work pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt with the department’s name stamped on it. Today’s shirt is navy blue with red writing. Yesterday’s was white.

No, I’m not memorizing what he wears, my life is just that freaking boring right now. The only thing that changes daily is the color of his shirt.

“I’m fine,” I grumble.

Declan pours himself a cup of coffee and leans back against the counter, watching me. He’s scruffier today. His dark hair is unruly, and even his eyebrows are unkempt. But the beard on this man? God, it looks softer, and I’m annoyed by how much I’d like to touch it.

I could probably write loads of sonnets about the way I want to feel it against my fingers—between my thighs—eh, who am I kidding? I can’t write a single fucking song to save my career.

Seriously.

It’s been a year since I released a new album, and anything I wrote before the Worst Human Alive destroyed my journal and my life is useless now.

He’d say it’s because I need him. That he helped me get to where I am. I’m really hoping that’s not true. We were one of those couples that broke up more than we stayed together. Always my fault, of course. He’d sleep around and gaslight me into believing I was in the wrong and that he only flaunted other women to remind me he was a catch.

The problem was my career was so tied to the man, my family too, that I truly believed I did need him.

God, I hope he was wrong.

As if he’s been summoned, my damn phone dings with another text from him.

Worst Human Alive: You’re seriously dating that loser wannabe hockey player?

I fist my hands and fight the urge to respond. He’s bating me. He wants my attention. He’ll never know he has it.

“You sure you’re fine?” Declan taunts.

Worst Human Alive: I get it. You wanted my attention. You have it now. But you better get tested before we get back together. That guy is a slut.

I hate him. I despise him.

“I’m. Fine,” I say slowly, working to keep my breathing even.

Worst Human Alive: Ya know what? Fuck you. You’re nothing without me. And when that guy is done with you, and he will be, because you’re nothing but a second-rate whore who isn’t even good in bed, don’t come crawling back to me.

Worst Human Alive: By the way, I fucked your assistant and mine. And Lake. She’s always been better than you at everything.

---