What if she stopped fighting it?Would she still come undone—breath hitching, cheeks flushing—before she shoved it all back down?
Does she bring that kind of fire to the bedroom?
A flare of anger ignites, hot and irrational, and I push it aside.I don’t want to think about Anna with anyone else.Iwon’t.
I sit up, blinking hard at that thought.
Anyone else?
Holy shit.Do I wish it were me?
I play out that thought for a moment and find myself circling the drain.
Would she fight it at first?Would she let me?—
Fuck.
I sit up fast, running my hands through my hair, forcing the thought right the fuck out.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This isn’t supposed to happen.I wasn’t supposed to want this.
Not like this.Not withher.
I was here to get her forgiveness so I could move on and focus on my music career without the dark cloud over my head.That’s all.
I swing my legs over the bed, breathing hard, trying to push past the heat creeping into my skin.
I need a distraction.Now.
A cold shower.
Something.
Anything.
Marching to the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my chest rising and falling like I just ran a marathon.
This is so fucked.
I’m standing here, trying to will my body into submission like some horny teenager.
What the hell?Where did that even come from?
I undress quickly and step into the shower, twisting the knob all the way to cold.
The first blast of water makes me suck in a sharp breath, my body jolting at the icy sting.
Good.I need it.
I brace my hands against the tile, letting the water pummel me, trying to drown out the fire in my blood.
But it doesn’t work.
Because my brain is still spinning, caught on a loop of what ifs.
What if I touched her again?