Forty-Eight
Hale
I threw back the glass of whiskey I’d just poured and downed it in one drink before slamming it onto the bar.
What the fuck had that been? I glared at the bottle of amber liquid as if it had the answers and was withholding them.
Was there an answer? I sure as shit couldn’t think of one that made sense.
Grabbing the bottle, I filled my glass, forgoing any measuring or even an ice cube.
There was no time for that. I’d just had my world combust, and I was grasping to pull it together.
I had shot my load into a woman. I’d only done that without meaning to one other time in my life, and Ransom was the result.
My other kids had been planned. Ransom was the reason I’d married Lethia.
But when I’d fucked her bare, it had been because I was young, she was gorgeous, and I was drunk.
That—whatever that shit had been upstairs—it had been different.
Sure, Bay was fucking stunning. Breathtaking when she was naked and chasing her own pleasure.
The—I rubbed my chest with my fist—shit that had hit me also was foreign.
I didn’t even have a way to describe it.
Calling it possessiveness scared the absolute fuck out of me, and I refused to identify it as that.
The desire to stalk back up there, wake her up, and do it again was like a monster inside me, demanding to be let out.
I stared at the ceiling in horror. Was that addiction?
Did she have one of those cunts that caused men to lose their minds?
Motherfucker, what had I done? I’d gone without fucking too long and taken what was right here and available.
Little had I known that she had some magical pussy that ruined men.
I shook my head. No. No, I wasn’t ruined. I’d just lost my head momentarily over a hot piece of ass. I was fine. She hadn’t messed me up.
But she could.
I could get addicted…and then what?
No. No. Not doing that. Been there, and it was a living hell.
Throwing back another drink, I stalked over to my cell phone and stared at it. Fuck! I didn’t want to. Not when I could go back up there and have it all over again. Feel that nirvana once more. But it would come with a price. I couldn’t chance it.
She didn’t deserve what I would take from her, the destruction I always left behind. I’d done enough. Taken her from her life, kept her, taken from her, just like everyone else in her life. I’d make it right and stay the fuck away.