Page 32 of Lush

Even a grueling ten-mile run didn’t exhaust me.

Why couldn’t I get her out of my head?

This place, for all its charm, carried ghosts. Every street, every view of the water, every sound of the waves felt like a punch to the gut. Laurene was everywhere here. For years, I’d wondered where she’d gone, what corner of the earth had swallowed her up.

We were never supposed to love each other. But tell me—when has fate ever cared about the rules?

How many times had I been to Paris? How many flights, howmany hotels, how many goddamn conferences? I’d probably walked down the same streets, been blocks away from her without even knowing it. She’d probably been sitting in some café, laughing, sipping wine, living her perfect little life, while I was drowning.

I stayed and picked up the pieces after Conrad’s accident. His time in the hospital had been short. A coma. Then seizures. And then the stroke that took him for good.

God, Ineededto hate her. But emotions, memories, and all the other bullshit were twisted in a mess.

I couldn’t forget her in my living room. Her legs crossed, the curve of her calf catching the light. That brown skin, warm and shimmering golden like sunlight, filtered through whiskey. Her presence bled into every corner of my damn place.

College was one of the few neutral territories for our families. No business deals or simmering tensions, just teenage chaos that made everything else fade into the background.

I’d been arguing with Conrad—he’d said some fucked-up shit, something sharp enough to cut deep. I didn’t even remember the words, but my fists curled at my sides, ready to swing.

And then I looked over his shoulder and saw her.

She’d been surrounded by her usual entourage, all of them laughing, talking too loud, like they owned the place. But she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking at me.

She smiled.

Not the kind of smile that came with an agenda, or one of those polished, pretty ones she used on everyone else. It was simpler than that. Softer. Like she didn’t see the mess. Like I wasn’t just the fuck-up everyone else saw.

I froze. For a second, I forgot where I was, forgot the sting of Conrad’s words, forgot everything except that damn smile.

And then, before I could stop myself, I smiled back.

I let my mind bring me back to the present. My head fall forward, the water streaming down my face as I exhaled deeply.

Laurene was too damn easy to want, too damn hard to forget.

I slammed my fist against the shower wall, the pain grounding me, but it didn’t stop the ache in my chest.

It was like every part of her was designed to drive me insane. The sharp, teasing smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips. The way her voice lingered in the air, low and warm, wrapping around me. Even the silence after she left felt heavy, like she’d stripped something vital from me on her way out the door.

I picked up my washcloth and soap, and as I lathered up, my mind flickered like a slide show of recollections. Since she left, I’d barely given any other woman a second look. Not for lack of options—a couple of nights here, a few drinks there, but nothing ever felt real. I didn’t let myself get close.

It was safer that way. Easier.

Those full, dangerous lips, the way her dark eyes could pin me down without a word. Damn, I felt myself hardening.

Reaching down, I grabbed my dick and stroked slowly, envisioning her on her knees in front of me, her pretty mouth wrapped around me, looking up with those big brown eyes watering.

Closing my eyes, I remembered her body had shifted the way her hips swayed just a little too much as if sheknewhow much it messed with my head.

I still remembered those nights in my car. She didn’t hold back then, she took control, every move bold, reckless, just like her. Sex with her wasn’t soft or easy; it was like a wildfire, something I could lose myself in, something that scorched and stayed with me.

Money, power, reputation—I lost everything. Except the way she still looked at me like I could be more.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. I stroked myself faster, imagining her bent over and spread, her pussy stretched around my cock. I used to count how many rounds it would take for her to take me to the base without crying.

Even now, I could still feel her, the way she moved, herbreath against my neck. But she was always a trouper, and I’d always make it up to her by holding her thighs apart, her pussy on display for me only.

I still wanted her.Badly.I wanted to fuck her hard and fast, make her scream with pleasure and pain, my nose buried deep in the crook of her neck. Just to get the anger out. Rid my body of the final frustrations.

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