Page 17 of The Fight

“Blair, just let me?—”

“I’m a virgin!” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and once they’re out, I’m not even sure why I said them. “I—I’ve never done anything, okay? So I don’t want you, of all people, to be the first to see me naked. Just, just let me do it.”

His hands immediately float away from me, and something flashes in his eyes. Almost like he feels bad. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“Wow. Shay Cornell apologizing to me?” I laugh. “Really rich, considering.”

He shakes his head and steps back. “Just put those on.” He turns, giving me his back and some sort of privacy.

I don’t reply. Instead, I watch and make sure he doesn’t turn around as it takes me longer than I’d like to admit to strip out of my normal clothes and slide into the pajamas. “Done.”

He turns back around and nods slowly. Stepping back to where I sit, he throws the jumbled blanket to one side, then points to the top of the bed. “Lay down.”

The room feels like it’s spinning, but I lean back, then scoot myself up the bed. He grabs the blanket he threw to the side and covers me up. It’s weird, considering all the shit he’s talked, but I almost see a softer side to him. Almost. His eyes are still hooded, and his mouth is a hard line, but his movements aren’t rough anymore. They’re slow and fluid.

Once the blanket is over my lower half, he looks at my hands. “Rings. Give them to me.”

I almost forgot I was even wearing any jewelry. Slowly, I start sliding my chunky silver rings off my fingers and placing them in his waiting hand. “Thanks.”

“Blair Hemingway thanking me?” He laughs. “Really rich, considering.” He throws my words back at me.

I just roll my eyes, then let them flutter closed halfway. I see his form move from me back to my dresser, where he sets my rings. It almost looks like he grabs something else, but I’m too tired to care. Turning on my side, I pull the blanket to my chin and close my eyes fully.

I can hear my door open again, but before it closes, I give him one last statement. “You’d be a lot hotter if you weren’t so mean, you know? I get being upset about our parents, but my dad is dead too. You’re not the only one hurting.”

There is a long pause, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, the sound of the door clicking closed is the last thing I hear.

I’m alone again, but for once, I don’t think I mind. I let out a long, shaky breath, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. As I start to drift off, I can still feel the ghost of Shay’s hands on my skin, steadying me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHAY

Iclose Blair’s door quietly behind me, careful not to make much noise. Her words are still ringing in my ears, echoing louder than my own for once. “My dad is dead too. You’re not the only one hurting.”

I didn’t know her dad had died. That’s not the type of thing people forget to mention, and I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve been so wrapped up in hating her and my own shit I never stopped to think about anything she may be going through. Maybe she’s just trying to find her footing, like I am.

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. I don’t want to feel sorry for her. I don’t want to think about losing a parent either, but I do. I know what that’s like, and now that I know she does too, it’s harder to hate her. Harder to push her away.

Then there’s the way she felt when I carried her out of the party. Her body pressed against mine, her warmth seeping through my skin. I shouldn’t like it—shouldn’t be thinking about it now, but I am. The memory of her softness, her scent—a mix of vanilla and lavender—lingers in my mind. And the fact she’s a virgin…

Leaning my head against her door, I close my eyes. This is messed up. I’m supposed to be angry, supposed to be keepingher at arm’s length, but every time I’m near her, it’s like I’m drawn to her, like I can’t help but get closer. She’s my almost stepsister, for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

But damn if I don’t.

A part of me wants to shake her, to tell her to just fucking leave and stop making shit so complicated. Another part wants to touch her, though. To press into her, smell her, dominate her.

Shaking my head, I open my eyes and unravel the pair of balled-up panties I swiped from her dresser. They’re all lace and cotton, delicate and dainty. Red roses paint the small white triangle of the front, and a bigger, lacy rose makes up the back above the string of the thong.

I can’t help but imagine what they look like on her. How they get to hug her hips and touch all of the delicious places I can’t. Bringing them to my nose, I inhale. Her scent fills my nose, and something in my chest growls.

I’m not sure why I swiped them. Honestly, it’s a bit creepy, but at the same time, Ineededto be close to her in some way. And a way I don’t have to face her is probably best. I almost went fucking feral when she blurted out she’s a virgin. No one has ever touched her… never marked her or made her moan. Unless it was herself, and that image dancing in my mind is enough to have my cock throbbing.

I slide my free hand down the front of myself and mimic the picture I’m painting in my head—her small hands dragging down her chest, all the way to her stomach, then dipping into the front of her panties.

I slip my hand into my jeans and shiver with the light touch against myself. The muscles in my stomach flex as I wrap my palm around my length. Slowly, I stroke myself, never letting the image of Blair playing with herself fade.

I think about the look on her face as she strums her pussy. How her mouth falls open and the corner of her eyes scrunch in an almost frightful way.

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