Page 108 of Imperfect Player

I shake my head, deny what she’s saying. No. I don’t belong in anyone’s heart. I’m a fuck up. A mess. A mistake. I am not that guy. I am not her guy.

“Yeah, well, then you’re even more fucked up than me.”

She steps over the puddle of whiskey on the floor, making sure to avoid the shards of glass, and heads straight to me. We’re toe to toe, our faces only inches from each other.

She doesn’t speak, not with words at least. Her eyes, though, they say it all. The emotion I thought she had been lacking, I just hadn’t taken the time to notice. It’s there, in her eyes. Understanding, love.

Her hand gently touches my cheek. Her lips brush against mine.

“I know, Ethan. I know, and I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I want to stumble back, but her presence grounds me. She knows. But what? How much? I couldn’t have possibly told her all of it . . . could I?

“Use me. Not the alcohol. Take what you need from me. Let me dull the ache. Use pleasure to erase the pain.”

This time, when she kisses me, it’s hard. The kind of kiss that that goes right to your balls.

Without hesitation, I take what she’s giving. I pick her up, legs wrapping around my waist as I press her against the nearest wall. I don’t have time or patience left.

Her hands reach between us, freeing me of the confines of my denim jeans. Thankfully, the shorts she’s wearing are loose enough to slide them to the side before slipping inside her.

She cries out, nails digging into my skin. It’s going to leave a mark. Maybe even bleed. I want that. I want more of the pain, the pleasure, the goddamn solace that this moment is bringing me.

Rough and raw.

Bare.

Just the two of us.

If feels wrong, using her like this, taking this thing between us and turning it into something to make the pain of the withdrawals subside.

I’m blinded by the physical, the feeling. My mind is lost. Unable to comprehend whether she’s even climaxed when my own takes hold of me.

Her legs loosen, sliding down my body until her feet hit the ground. I look between us. My cum dripping down her inner thigh.

Fuck.

I stuff myself back into my pants. Zip up.

Then, I bolt.

Chapter 31

Everly

“What is going on with you?” Chelle asks.

I snap out of my fog only to realize that I’ve been staring at a wall, rather than engaging in conversation with her.

It’s Margarita Wednesday, and a margarita is the last thing I want.

I want Ethan. I want things to go back to normal.

Ever since the photo shoot, he’s been avoiding me. I’m not sure if he’s in a drunken stupor or trying to recover.

He fucked me and ran. Literally ran right out of his own house and away from me.

Not because he wanted to. I know he didn’t. I know that no matter what he’s going through there is one thing that isn’t in question—how he feels about me. In fact, if anything, it’s those emotions that manage to at least calm some of the storm that’s brewing inside him.

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