Chapter 24
24
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“ F uck.”
“Damn.”
“Shit.”
“Goddamn-dumbass-motherfucking-crapface-horsebutt-shit.”
I bang my forehead against the shower tile as I mutter every single curse word in the curse word dictionary.
I fucked up. I got a shot with Layla—like I’ve been fantasizing about for years—and I epically fucked it up.
My mind travels back to the way she was pressed against me, the way she was mewling desperately, how her curves felt beneath my palms. Just thinking about it and my erection springs forward. Like it thinks it’s about to get some attention tonight.
“Oh, shut up,” I grumble at my idiot dick and I turn the water colder.
I’m so disgusted with myself, I may never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
I hurt Layla.
That’s something I promised myself I’d never do. I’ve seen the look of devastation on her face a hundred times over the past few years. I’ve watched the rest of the world disappoint her repeatedly and I told myself that would never be me. I swore I’d always be the one to save her from her pain.
But tonight I was the cause of those tears gathering in her eyes. And I’m kicking myself for it. I should have never put my hands on her to begin with. I should have kept my distance.
I knew from the get-go that I’m not a man who views intimacy casually. I knew that touching her would easily make me lose my grip on my control. Yet I went and crossed the line, turning her on, getting her all worked up. And when she naturally tried to take things further, I was the one to back out. Dick move.
Sticking to my convictions ended up making her cry. And now, she probably hates me. Giving in to that moment of weakness was definitely not worth it. Clearly.
Rivulets of water pour down my face, plastering my hair to my forehead and stinging my eyes. Over and over, I continue to bang my head against the wet bathroom tile.
I really fucked up. I don’t know how I’m going to fix this.