Page 136 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
And now that I saw her again, now that she was sitting right next to me, with her scent filling my head, I knew two things for certain:
I’d never stopped loving her.
I hadn’t forgiven her. Or myself. And I didn’t know if I ever would.
When Evie and I had been together, I wanted to ruin her for every other man. Now, I wanted her to leave here after this weekend with the memory of me so deeply embedded that when she closed her eyes at night, all she would see was me. I wanted her to wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for me, only to realize I wasn’t there.
My guilt ran deep, but my cuts ran deeper. I carried a grudge, and I was still that asshole who sought revenge from the people who had wronged me.
Nobody had ever obliterated my heart the way she had. And I’d never loved anyone the way I loved her.
It was a precarious position, like walking a tightrope between what was right and wrong.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“I’m thinking we need another drink.” I called the bartender over and ordered another round. This time I asked for a shot with my beer. As if I couldn’t do any of this sober.
When the bartender set our drinks on the bar, I lifted my shot and clinked it against her glass.
“What are we drinking to?”
My eyes locked on hers. “To the best I’ve ever had.”
Her lips parted, and she let out a breath, her eyes still locked on mine until she broke contact. I downed my shot of overpriced tequila, slammed my glass on the bar, and asked for another one. Then I threw back another shot and chased it with beer while she drained her glass. Guess we were both on a mission to get shitfaced.
“You’re the best I’ve ever had, too.”
So, why did you leave me?
I had to get over it. That’s what everyone told me. I was only in town for the wedding. I had a life that didn’t include her, and there was no way in hell that I would put my heart on the line again, only for her to trample all over it.
We’d have our fun now, stick to the shallow end, and go our separate ways. That was the plan.
I fell back into my old ways and took her hand, tugging her off the barstool, so she was standing between my legs. She leaned into me and wrapped her arms around my neck as my hands coasted down her sides and landed on her hips. “Need a reminder of how good it was?”
“I think I might need another drink or ten before we go down that road.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
“Maybe.” Her smile told me it was more than just a maybe.
Without letting her go, I ordered another round.
Alcohol. A truth serum. “Have I told you how good you look?”
“How good do I look?” she asked with a flirty smile.
“You’re beautiful.” I framed her face in my hands. At twenty-three, she was even more beautiful than at eighteen. “But that’s nothing new. You’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the room.”
“I forgot how sweet you could sometimes be.”
I brushed my thumb over her lips. “What else did you forget?”
“Nothing.” She leaned into me and licked her lips as if she could still taste me on her tongue. “I remember everything.”
Our lips met, hers soft and full and ripe, and I groaned as my tongue swept inside her mouth.
She tasted like mint leaves and rum.
