Page 44 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

Fuck. Me.

I turn onto my side and shove a pillow over my ear, but it doesn’t block anything out. It does nothing but feeds my addiction to a girl who doesn’t belong to me. I know it’s her. Sex can sound like anyone. But this? It’s different. It’s tainted somehow. Fake. Over the top like a bad porno. Like she knows I’m listening. Like she wants me to hear to prove a point. I doubt she’s even getting off. The realization only pisses me off more.

Chucking my pillow against the opposite wall, I head to the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and grip my cock through my black boxers.

I’m hard.

Hell, I’m dripping. For her. To be the guy pulling those sounds from her throat. Even if it sounds fake and over the top, the noises still belong to her. Sunshine. And because it’s her, I’m still hard as a rock. It’s like she’s crawled under my skin and refuses to leave me the hell alone.

Her sounds are like a ghost. A premonition. A promise.

It’s torture.

Closing my eyes, I rest my back against the door and pull out my dick from my boxers, rubbing my hand over the head of it as I imagine my name on her lips, my hands on her body. I pump my hand faster and faster, picturing my fingers tangled in her hair, her wet heat clenching around me. My breath quickens, and my heart pounds against my ribcage as I come in my hand with her name on my tongue.

I lean my head against the door, realizing exactly what I’ve done and how messed up it is.

Now, I really do need to buy some noise-canceling headphones or some shit. Because hearing Logan is one thing, but listening to Ash screw someone who isn’t me? It’s the worst form of torture.

But I guess I deserve this.

This excruciating misery.

After all, I hurt her first. I could see it on Mia’s doorstep. When she caught me comforting her best friend.

Like a kick to the balls, she simply stood there. Hurting.

And it’s all my fault.

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to erase the memory, but it doesn’t go anywhere. If anything, it’s amplified. Like a knife twisting in my chest.

I screwed up. But I didn’t know they were roommates. I didn't realize my attempt to get Ash out of my mind would only solidify her place there.

But I do now.

And she sure as shit isn’t going anywhere.

I cock my head to one side and listen for a second as my muscles relax. At least it’s quiet now. Logan must’ve finished. Maybe I’ll finally get some sleep. My dick is still unsatisfied as I tuck it back into my boxers, wash my hands, and open the door. Wrapped in a blanket, a shy Ash stands there looking guilty as hell. Like she caught me doing something I shouldn’t. Like she heard me jerking off. Like she heard me say her name as I came in my hand like a teenager.

Her skin is flushed as I’d imagined, and she’s biting her lower lip, peeking up at me through her dark lashes.

“Uh…sorry if I…” Her voice trails off, the light from the bathroom casting our shadows along the dark hallway.

“Interrupted me jerking off?” I ask, stepping closer to her, too amped up on adrenaline to back off now with her in front of me. She mirrors my movements until her back hits the opposite wall. Still, I continue my pursuit, and she gasps quietly as I move so fucking close to her only the blanket and my boxers separate us. She smells like sex and vanilla. It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.

“Or are you sorry you kept me awake with all the moaning?” I growl.

She gulps.

“What exactly are you sorry for, Ash?”

Again, she peeks up at me, shrugging one bare shoulder. The sheet slips down a few inches and exposes more of her smooth skin. My mouth waters, and I have to force my spine to stay straight when all I want is to dig my teeth into every inch of bare flesh on display in the dark hallway.

I’m not sure how she managed to get so far under my skin in such a short period of time, but she did. And I’m seconds from tugging at the little knot of fabric between her tiny fists at her chest to see if she’s as perfect as I imagine.

“I see he noticed the dress,” I add, daring her to tell me otherwise.

Her gaze darkens, and her pouty lips press together. “It’s none of your business.”

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