Page 6 of Unravel Me

She left me.

I toss back the remainder of my drink, lock up my house, and head to take a long shower to wash the day away. After stripping and tossing my clothes into the laundry bin, I walk into my massive stone shower and let the hot water spray over me, rinsing the stress of the day and my shitty feelings down the drain.

My mind chooses torture and stays on Ivy. All glossy black hair and emerald eyes. I try to imagine what she’d look like today, what makes her smile, what makes her feel good. I picture her sweet, plump lips and remember what it felt like to kiss them. The way her body would mold to mine anytime I put my arms around her. The physical chemistry between us was too strong to ignore. We were drawn to each other like two magnets, unable to resist the pull.

Feeling my cock pulse with need against my lower abdomen, begging for attention, I brace my hand on the shower wall, letting the water beat down on my back, and grab it firmly in my fist. I lose myself picturing what she would look like laying naked on my bed. Her raven hair sprawled out in a wild mess on my white sheets. I’d drag her ass to the edge of the bed, settle on my knees between her thighs, part her lips with my thumbs, and drag the flat of my tongue from her center up to her clit. I’d eat her until she was a squirming mess beneath me. I’d find her limit, seeing how many times I could get her to come on my tongue.

I never got to taste her like that and it’s a regret I have to live with.

I stroke myself brutally, my fist pumping up and down, imagining my tongue swirling over her slick center. I’d lick her until her hips bucked wildly, until she came undone under me,soaking my face, her sweetness dripping down my chin, my name on her lips as she screams out in pleasure.

Fuuck. I grip my cock tighter as I come harder than I have in months, hot ribbons of cum pulsing out of me and onto the shower floor. The calm that usually washes over me after an orgasm doesn’t arrive. Instead, I’m slammed with anger.

“FUCK!” I roar in frustration. I slam my hand against the shower wall, welcoming the sting of pain I get in return. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Feeling less clear-headed than before, my emotions go from anger to anguish and back again. I rinse my body and turn the shower off. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I brace my hands on the bathroom counter and stare at myself in the mirror, hating that she still has control over me.

Hating that even after a fucking decade apart, I still can’t get over her.

The ugly truth of it, though? She didn’t just leave me behind in Aspen Ridge when she ran off, she took my goddamn heart with her, and I’ve been fucking empty ever since.

Chapter 3

IVY

Ever been jolted awake by a blender crushing frozen fruit ten feet from where you’re sleeping? 0/10. Do not recommend. After a fitful night of sleep on Zoe’s couch rethinking every decision I’ve ever made, I’m woken up with a jolt by my best friend making a smoothie at the ass crack of dawn.

“Zo! What the hell?”

“Sorry!” she screams over the noise.

I clutch a pillow over my head and wait for her to silence the jet engine crashing through the kitchen.

“Okay, Okay! I’m sorry, Iv. I’m done!”

“You’re good. But Jesus, what are you blending that needs that much power?”

“Uhm. A lot of stuff. You probably don’t want to know what I put in these things. Better to just drink it up and know it’ll make your body happy, especially after drowning ourselves in tequila last night.”

She fills a smoothie bowl, places sliced bananas on top, and sprinkles it with some seeds. My best friend, a walking contradiction. Has no problem drowning herself in alcohol, but god forbid she misses her morning garden smoothie.

She calls it balance.

I call it insanity.

“It’s green, Zo. And surprisingly thick. I’ll stick to coffee. You have at it.”

“Soooo. What are your plans for the day?” she asks.

“Well, I need to face the rat bastard at some point. Gotta pack up all my clothes and things from the apartment. It should be quick, it’s not like I have a lot of personal items anyway. Just my clothes, toiletries, and a few essentials. Everything else is his, Zo.”

Groaning, I drop my head into my hands and take a few deep breaths, refusing to cry. I know better than to tangle my life up with someone so tightly. When I was eighteen, my mom drilled it in to me to never be so consumed with a man that I lost myself to him. She made me promise to never give up myself so wholly that I would be reduced to nothing in the wake of his inevitable betrayal.

So to sit here now, knowing that I know better? It’s crushing. I failed myself and my mom and I’ll be damned if it ever happens again. I have to stay strong. It’s my only option.

I met Brooks a year ago when I applied to be a chef at his family’s restaurant. He came on strong and I was swept up in the whirlwind of his pomp and circumstance. He was ridiculouslyhandsome, with styled blond hair and an athletic build. But what I was drawn to the most? He was into me without suffocating me. He chased me just enough that I knew I was wanted, but not so much that I felt I needed to run away. In hindsight, I see that his lack of giving a damn about my whereabouts most likely means that he’s been sticking his dick in a lot more than the bikini barista I caught him with. The coffee sours in my stomach at the thought. Thank the gods above I always made that weasel wrap it up.

“You’ve got this, babe. Remember how strong you are. Don’t take any shit.”

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