Page 10 of Pucking Forbidden

I can’t.

I won’t.

Not even for her.

I shove the phone into my pocket, shut off the music, and haul myself up to the shower. But as the hot water beats down on me,I can’t get her out of my head. She’s stuck like the notes of a song playing on repeat.

Her fiery brown eyes. The way strands of her hair always wave around her face. Those full lips wrapped around my name.

“Fuck,” I groan, wrapping my fist around my cock. I squeeze my eyes closed and imagine she’s in front of me again. She’s in my arms like she was today. But I don’t haul her away from the truck. I haul her to it, bend her over the tailgate.

She moans and squirms, grinding against my cock as I take a taste of her, tormenting both of us. I already know she’ll taste sweet. So fucking sweet. Like sugar and cinnamon.

My cock throbs in my hand, my balls drawing up.

My fist flies up and down, twisting, pulling…imagining she’s the one wrapped around it. Her hand. Her lips. Her hot little body.

“Sutton,” I groan, ropes of cum painting the shower wall. I slap my free hand against the tiles to hold myself upright, working out every last drop. My heart pounds. My goddamn legs shake.

Jesus.

I suck in a lungful of air, rattled. Unsteady. She’s wrecking me all over again, pulling me apart piece by piece.

I think maybe she’s putting me back together again, too.

She was in love with me back then. It shouldn’t matter now. But who the fuck am I kidding? She never stopped mattering. I doubt she ever will.

Jamison wanted to take everything from me, and he did. He thought taking my career and reputation was his grand revenge for daring to call him on his shit. For humiliating him in front of the world. For whatever bullshit lies he told himself about me and Vanessa to justify the shit he did to her. He was wrong. Turning Sutton against me was what destroyed me.

I’ve fucking hated him for it for five years. As far as I could tell, his life continued like nothing ever happened. He was treated like a hero, an innocent victim. And I spent mine in hell.

But maybe that isn’t entirely true. If she’s telling the truth, it isn’t. He’s…what? Gone off the deep end again? Hurt someone else?

I won’t help him. Not when I’m beginning to think that Sutton has spent the last five years in hell, too. That she’s here right now because she never got over it, either.

And that’s his goddamn fault.

It’s mine, too.

I scrub up quickly and then climb from the shower. My phone on the counter taunts me, screaming at me to respond, but I ignore it as I brush my teeth and then drag on a pair of boxers.

By the time I’m in bed, I can’t ignore the voice screaming at me anymore.

My mind races as my fingers fly across the screen.

Me: Who is this?

I don’t even have time to set it aside before she’s responding, like she was just waiting for me to answer her.

Sutton: JORDAN!!!

I crack a smile, a rusty laugh rumbling from my lips. I can imagine her shouting my name just like that, stomping her foot while she does it, her eyes flashing a combination of irritation and amusement. And even though she fights it, she smiles.

Goddamn, I would have done anything for her when she smiled at me. Guess some shit hasn’t changed. I’d still kill to be the reason she smiles. To be the one she smiles at.

Sutton: Crap, please tell me this is still your number, and I didn’t just confess my biggest secret to some random stranger.

As if I could change my number. I kept the damn thing, hoping that she’d call someday. Even when I knew she wouldn’t, I hoped anyway.

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