Page 85 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

“You broke that poor boy’s heart. And then he got jumped in his own home! Can you believe it?”

“He… what?” My voice is too high. I ball my free hand into a fist. There’s no way I can let on that I know what happened to Adam—or, more specifically,whohappened.

“That’s right! He could’ve died.” My mom sighs. “I thought this is what you wanted, Wren. Adam is on track to be a very successful young man. What happened to your future together?”

I hesitate.Isthat what I want? Before I met Adam, I had a plan—a dream. It was silly, maybe a little naïve, but it was mine.

All I wanted was to become a freelance graphic designer, learn a lot of languages, and travel the world. I figured that if I could work from anywhere, I could stay in lots of different countries, learn their languages, and experience their cultures.

I could spend time outside hiking and exploring. I could learn lots of cool new words. Discover new ways to cook. Listen to people tell their history, their stories. So muchlearning.And I thought that maybe I could make a living designing things like book covers and logos and social media graphics and—

I stop dead in my tracks. Where the hell did that dream go? Why did I ever stop pursuing it?

You know why,I tell myself.You’re just too ashamed of yourself to admit it.

“Wren? Wren, are you still there? Hellooooo?”

I hang up, ignoring my phone vibrating in my pocket when she tries to call me back. The last thing I need right now is my mother lecturing me.

When I get home, I drop my bag and coat on the floor. After stripping, I step into the shower. The hot water warms my frozen skin, and I imagine it washing away my mother’s words, too.

It doesn’t work.

And all I’m left with is the cold, bitter realization that I’ve lost myself, and that the past years I’ve spent with Adam have all been one gigantic, messy waste.

Chapter three

Oliver

Warmth.

That’s what I wake up to. Warmth, a big arm draped over me, and the beginnings of morning light streaming through the windows of Elliot’s room.

There’s also a very familiar, very hardsomethingpressing into my ass.

Ell groans behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. Slowly, I turn around and nuzzle my face in his neck. Then I inhale deeply, taking in his scent, all sandalwood and citrus and him.

“I love waking up with you,” he mumbles sleepily.

I smile against his skin. “Why, because I always let you fuck me in the morning?”

He chuckles, squeezing my side and kissing the top of my head. “That’s nice, too.”

His cock twitches against my leg, and I wrap my hand around it.

“Fuck,” Elliot groans.

I grin, pulling my head away from him to watch his face. He’s opened his eyes, and they’re filled with want.

Perfect.I want to keep his mind occupied a while longer before he remembers what happened last night.

I stayed with him, showering with him and listening as he voiced his worries and paced the bedroom. But there was only so much I could do to help himthrough the guilt of hurting Wren. Hell, there’s reallynothingI can do, except give him a good distraction.

Elliot lets me stroke him for a minute before he’s thrusting into my hand, moaning and fisting the sheets. Then he grunts, “Get on your hands and knees, O.”

I oblige with a grin. He’s on me in seconds, ripping off my boxers and spreading my cheeks. Then I feel him licking the area around my hole, and I groan.

“You want more, do you?” he mumbles.