4. Soul
Soul
I’ve never thought about the other side of the bed. It’s always empty, and I prefer it that way.
Cold sheets mean I’m not getting distracted.
It means my head is on straight, and I’m focused.
Peeling my eyes open, I’m struck by a beam of sunlight shooting through the window. The blinding glow has the previous night flooding back.
She floods back.
I can still hear Emery’s perfect moans leaving her gorgeous lips. I can still see her body arching in pleasure. I can still feel her tearing open the first time I thrust into her.
I’ve never taken anyone’s virginity because it’s fucking reckless. It’s one thing to be memorable in bed; it’s another for it to mean something. I’m careful to make sure girls don’t get attached. I make a point of not meaning anything to anybody.
But the moment I sank into Emery and her eyes filled with tears, that silent promise to myself was forever altered. She handed me a piece of her body with the kind of trust I don’t deserve.
Not from her.
A girl who sees through all my bullshit.
Who isn’t scared of the target my cut puts on my back.
It’s confusing as fuck. And scary considering I sense I’m not the only one with things I’m not saying.
There was distance in Emery’s eyes all night. Secrets she’s clearly keeping. She refused to get too personal, like she thought she’d wake up and the universe would rip the world out from under her.
I’ve never cared enough about a woman to figure her out. Never thought much about anyone outside of my club and myself. But as I roll over in the oversized king bed, that’s what I intend to do.
I’m going to figure out what makes Emery smile. What makes her tick. I’m going to figure out why she gave her virginity to some biker she met at a casino.
I want to know why she hates the color red and why she told a strange lie about peanuts. I want to know everything.
I reach for her, and my smile grows. Until my palm lands on cold sheets, and it disappears entirely.
The bed is empty.
Emery is gone.
It should be a relief. After all, one-night stands are what I do best.
Grabbing her pillow, I flatten it over my face and breathe in the lingering scent of her orange blossom perfume. I drown my lungs with her smell. Like maybe once it’s gone, I’ll be able to let her go.