Page 42 of Destroying Everleigh

Hurt flashed across Everleigh’s face, causing my chest to constrict with guilt.

“You ever call her a fucking slut again, and I’ll beat you so badly, your parents won’t even recognize you,” he growled.

I blew out a breath as he sank back in his seat, wrapping a possessive arm around his girlfriend. “I’m sorry, E. I didn’t mean it.”

She shot me a weary glance before burying her face in Ashton’s chest. I suppose I deserved that. If anyone was a slut, it was Crystal. I just didn’t like the constant fucking reminder.

The next day, I stopped at some flower shop on the west side of town and then at some pizza place I knew she’d love. Guilt was still eating away at me as I pulled into her driveway and knocked on the door. There were no cars aside from mine and Everleigh’s, so I assumed her parents weren’t home.

When the door creaked open, she poked her head around the corner with a weary glance. When she realized it was me, her shoulders sagged with relief, and she opened the door wider. My eyes instantly took her in. She was dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a large T that slid off of one of her dainty shoulders. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she never looked hotter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Ashton’s not here.” Her gaze dropped to the items I’d brought, and her eyes widened as it sank in. “Kash…” she started, hesitantly.

“Can I come in?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. I didn’t blame her for wanting to put distance between us, though. What I said to her last night was out of line. She was the last person I wanted to hurt.

I stepped into the house, the door closing echoing around the large space as I drifted into the kitchen. I set the pizza down on the counter before grabbing a few plates like I owned the place. Between her house and Ashton’s house, it was one of the hang out spots, so it was second nature. I placed a few slices on two plates before moving to the fridge and grabbing two cans of soda.

Everleigh was still in the living room when I reemerged, but she was on the sofa now, hitting play on the TV she’d obviously been watching before I’d interrupted. I offered her a plate and a drink before setting the flowers down beside her on the sofa.

“Why are you doing this?” she inquired, the sound of some reality TV show bleeding through the speakers.

“We’ll talk after you’ve eaten.”

I took the spot beside her, careful not to mess up the flowers, and leaned into the large sectional. We ate in silence, my eyes pinned on the show. The girls were wearing skimpy bathing suits as they fought over guys and talked shit about the other contestants. I couldn’t even find it in me to admire their beauty, though. Not when the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on was seated beside me, sucking pizza sauce off her fingers without a care in the world.

She wasn’t conventionally attractive. Not even my type. My attraction for her had grown over the months prior to meeting her the first time. Maybe it was seeing how she was with Ash, or how she was with Jameson. I kept my distance, mostly because I didn’t want to get roped into whatever web she entangled my two best friends in. And because it was still weird to me that Ash was so open to sharing her, and he could revoke that option at any given time. He was in control.

Everleigh wasn’t just some girl I could hook up with and forget about. She was a friend. Not even the friends with benefits kind. How could I fuck her one time and see her every day following with that reminder looming over us? Ash never specified what he meant by sharing. It could be a one-time thing—which made the most sense to me, because why would he continuously share his girlfriend after getting his fantasy?

I almost caved once. When we were in Ashton’s room, the only thing she was wearing was a pair of thin black panties. Feeling her body writhe between me and Ash while I touchedher, sucked her vanilla skin, was by far the best thing I’d ever encountered in my life. I knew then, that fucking her wasn’t an option. I’d never be able to get enough.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked, putting her plate off to the side.

I grabbed the flowers, moving them to the other side of me before scooting closer to her. The warmth of her body immediately greeted me, making my head spin. Her expression was weary, like she didn’t entirely trust me, and I couldn’t even blame her for it. Not after what I called her last night. Part of me hoped she’d been too drunk to remember, but that had been wishful thinking.

“I wanted to apologize,” I admitted.

“Don’t,” she said simply, a slight edge to her voice. “Don’t apologize for being honest.”

I grimaced, the guilt twisting my stomach into knots. “That wasn’t honesty. I don’t think you’re a slut.”

“No?” she asked, turning toward me more. I shook my head. “Hmmm.” In one swift movement she kicked her leg out, moving to straddle me, the heat of her pussy seeping through my sweats. Her hands landed on my shoulders, and she arched an eyebrow in challenge. “What about now?”

My breath caught in my throat at the sudden forwardness that was so unlike her it made me pause, made me want to pinch myself just to make sure this was real and not some kind of fantasy. “No.” I breathed, placing my hands on her hips. I realized pretty quickly that she was trying to prove a point to me. This had nothing to do with attraction.

She gyrated her hips, making her core slide against my rock-hard dick. My hands tightened around her, my breath coming out quick and fast. “And now?” she pressed with hooded eyes and dilated pupils. Fuck. Was she still drunk?

My hand slid up her back, winding in her long hair. I jerked, causing a gasp to slip from her lips. Fuck. I loved that sound. “You’ll never be a slut to me.” My lips feathered against her jaw, causing her to tremble against me. “Now get off my lap before I lose control and fuck you right here.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, hesitation written into her features like she was genuinely considering it. But finally, she rose and flopped back down beside me.

“You didn’t have to bring an apology gift, though.” She glanced over at me, a flush still on her cheeks.

You deserve much more than a pizza and some lousy flowers.

But I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. So, I shrugged instead. “How else was I supposed to convince you I was sorry?” I smirked.

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