Page 103 of From West, With Regret

I shake my head and lean in, dragging my nose across her face, breathing her in like the starved man I am. Starving for her love. “No.” I feather my mouth over hers. “You’re mine forever.”

TWENTY-NINE

HOLT

It’s the quiet ones you need to watch out for. Or in my case, the oneIwatch.

Call me obsessed or whatever, it’s in my fucking nature.

Work.

Fuck.

Eat.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Did I forget to mention obsessing over Selene gorgeous-as-sin Walker?

She’s there somewhere, between working, eating, and fucking. Fucking women who, notably, aren’t Selene Walker.

It’s insane that my little sister’s best friend consumes my every thought, but it’s fact. Maybe it’s that she drives me crazy with her quiet, reserved nature. Like she’s always there lurking in the background, like a fucking wallflower when she should be the one who’s center stage. Though I’ve learned over the years, Selene likes it that way, as though she has something to protect behind that guarded heart of hers.

She revels in not being the center of attention, descendinginto the shadows, but from the first moment I caught a glimpse of her blonde hair and green eyes, I knew I wanted her more than any other woman I’ve ever had.

I shouldn’t, though.

But there’s one thing she doesn’t know: I’m a wallflower just like her.

I stay quiet with almost everyone in my life. They think I’m this organized, overworked, professional rich prick, when deep down, I’m not. I’m more like Selene.

But no one likes that version.

They prefer this one.

“Fuck! I forgot the wonders your cock can do to me when I’m stressed.” Emily sighs, climbing off me. She keeps her neck bent, trying not to bump her head against the ceiling of my car. Streams of my cum slip down the inside of her thighs as she moves to sit beside me. She spreads her legs and steals the handkerchief from the front pocket of my suit, wiping it up like it’s spilled milk. “Here.” She slaps the ball of now-sticky fabric into the palm of my hand. “Thanks.”

I roll my eyes, toss the napkin aside, and tuck my dick back inside my pants.

“You didn’t need to pull out you know.” She breathes heavily, practically still moaning as if her orgasm is still humming inside her. “I’m on birth control.”

Emily adjusts her breasts back into her dress, shielding the bite marks I’ve left around the outside of her right nipple. Once she’s satisfied with the way they look, she begins fixing her hair, looking at her reflection through the tinted window.

We’re parked out front of The Veiled Door, and there are a shit ton of guests filtering inside, walking along the red carpet like it’s some Hollywood movie premiere.

Good. I’m glad.

West and London deserve this success.

But I needed a moment before walking inside and facing everyone. Especially when I know I’ll be seeing Selene.

Emily Rapture just so happened to ask if I could give her a ride, and I wasn’t going to turn her down when her definition of a ride meant more than sitting in the back of my car from one side of Manhattan to the other. I needed to purge the hunger my dick gets every time I’m around the one woman I know I shouldn’t be obsessed with, and I wasn’t going to let the lack of preparation get the better of me.

“I didn’t have a condom on me.” I tilt my head back as a bead of sweat slips down my forehead. “Though I remember you telling me you were on birth control the last time.”

Her eyes slide to mine. “Maybe we could do this again sometime.” She turns her attention back to her reflection, brushing her finger over her lip. “Preferably not outside of a gallery opening, and with less risk of an audience.”