Page 59 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

“I’m sorry, Shay. I know it’s not easy. Even though you two happened so long ago, it doesn’t change the fact that what you had was real. I really thought the two of you were destined for forever.”

I hated that I believed that, too. That Landon was my endgame. My happily ever after. My forever.

What a stupid girl I had been back then.

“It’s okay,” I lied. “I’m okay.”

I’m fiiine.

“Not to be nosy, but I’m going to be nosy…how was it?”

“The sex?” I asked, thinking back to the wild exchange. I still received chills thinking about the way Landon owned my body in that room a few nights ago. The way his kisses tasted like sin and burned more than the whiskey. The way he slid in and out of me, thrusting his hardness against my core, fucking me as if he’d been waiting to show me how much I’d been on his mind all those years we’d missed. He fucked me as if apologizing for the scars he left me with. Just recalling the night was almost enough to get me hot and bothered all over again. It was the best sex that I’d ever had, and I hated that fact. I hated that I’d never been so turned on in my life. I hated that he took me to new heights that I didn’t even know sex could travel to. I hated how much I loved the way he made me feel.

I hated that I wanted to feel him inside me again. The other night in bed, I’d awakened hot and bothered, and I knew it was because Landon had slid into my dreams. I ended up pulling out my vibrator, and using it in the middle of the night, stupidly thinking about him as I got myself off. Afterward, I felt dirty, ashamed, and really good, too.

What was wrong with me?

I cleared my throat. “It was fine.”

Raine’s mouth dropped open. “That good, huh?”

I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. “The best I’d ever had.”

“Gah, that’s insane. I always imagined what hate sex had to be like. Passionate, powerful, intense. I remember I tried to get Hank to be pissed at me once, just so we could experience hate sex, but he wasn’t having any part of it. He just loves to screw me while telling me how perfect I am. It’s really annoying.”

I smiled. “Yes, it must be awful being worshipped like a goddess,” I mocked.

“So annoying,” she joked. Then, she brought the topic back to Landon, of course. “Doesn’t he look good, though?”

“He looks like a troll.”

“Liar,” she said, rubbing her lower back with one hand as she reached for a box of Oreo’s cereal. Yes—Oreo’s had cereal, and recently Raine was going through a box once every three days. “He looks good. Healthy. Each time I see him, he looks better than the last. Like a fine wine.”

“Like a stupid two-thousand-and-ten bottle of Barolo Monfortino Riserva Conterno,” I grumbled. Raine arched an eyebrow at me. I shook my head. “Never mind.”

But it was true. Landon was made like a god.

“Well, lucky for you, you’re hot and amazing, so I’m sure he’s kicking himself in the ass for letting you slip away. You’re the one that got away for him,” she told me as we walked toward the check-out lane. “I just know it. Losing you is his biggest regret.”

“Has he ever said that to you?”

“He didn’t have to say it. I could see it in his eyes when he asked about you.”

I tried to push that thought away and not let it settle. That was when I saw the magazines. Landon’s face was plastered all over them with him posing with different women from the whiskey party a few days ago. He was smiling, and dancing, and taking shots. They called him the playboy of the century—stating how Landon was a serial dater who made Leonardo DiCaprio look like a down-to-earth family man. The pictures on the cover from the party showcased him with dozens of different women. It was as if he was living a freaking Mambo Number 5 song. He’d found Angelina, Pamela, Sandra, and Rita, and as he continued, the girls were getting prettier.

I picked up one of the magazines, and began flipping through it, a bit terrified I would’ve caught a photograph of me beside Landon, too. The more I flipped, the more my stomach dropped.

Nothing.

Not one photograph of me with Landon was captured, almost as if I’d never existed. That corner of my heart that still belonged to him? It felt foolish and ashamed that I had the nerve to even let Landon in for the small amount of time that we had.

All those freaking girls.

I wasn’t bitter about it at all.

Nope. Not even a little.

Okay. Fine. Just call me dark roast, baby, because bitterness was officially my first, middle, and last name.

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