Filfthy(26)

I lean back, pulling her on top of me. She slides down my side, curling up in my arm. I’m not much for cuddling, but I love the way our skin sticks together in the aftermath of what just happened.

Delilah rolls to her back, her breasts still pert and swollen and her hand resting on her stomach as it rises and falls with each breath.

And then she laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“This,” she says, turning to me.

“It’s funny to you?”

“It’s funny that this is where we ended up. Two weeks ago, I could barely look at you without my blood boiling,” I say. “And now I’m here. Naked in your bed. Coming down from the most ridiculously amazing orgasm I’ve had in my entire life.”

“I don’t think that’s funny at all,” I say. “I think it’s pretty fucking fantastic.”

I crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, she’s wrapped in my sheets.

“I got cold,” she says with a sly smile.

And I smile back, because she looks so sexy like that wearing nothing but a smile and white covers.

I’m two seconds from yanking them off her and starting up all over again when the doorbell rings. Random people stopping by at this time of night is never a good thing.

“Who’s here?” She wears a lifted brow.

“Good question.” I move to the window and peek outside. From this part of the house, I can catch the second half of the driveway, and from here, I see enough to know exactly who it is. “Shit.”

“What? What is it?”

“Stay here,” I say. “Don’t make a sound.”

I grab some jeans and a shirt from a dresser and throw them on before bolting to the front door.





Chapter 9





Delilah



Fucking. Asshole.

Who does he think he is screwing me like some fuck doll and then telling me to keep quiet the second someone comes to his door.

What is he hiding?

And why is he hiding me?

A million questions storm through my mind and a thousand negative assumptions take center stage. My entire life, I’ve gotten through the hard times by listening to my gut, and right now I feel sick.

This can’t be good.

I rifle through his dresser and pull out the first top I find before sliding into a pair of shorts.

I look ridiculous.

I feel ridiculous.

I am ridiculous.

Not sure what I was thinking when I decided screwing Zane de la Cruz was remotely a good idea. Guess that was the problem – I wasn’t thinking. This is what happens when I let my body steer the ship.

I hear his voice from down the hall, and I hear him tell someone he’s alone.

Hot tears fill my eyes, and I know I’ve officially been lied to. Betrayed.

I trusted him. And yet all along, I knew better.

Sneaking out the back door, I run toward Aunt Rue’s, and I thank the stars in the night sky above when the code on the back door works on the first try.

Once I’m inside, I tear his clothes off my body and climb into the hottest shower I can stand, rinsing him off of me, out of my hair, from my skin, off of every part of me he touched. All of it drips off my body and swirls down the drain, going right where it belongs.

Zane de la Cruz will never touch me again.



When I come out of the shower, I hear the clinking of keys from the kitchen.

“Aunt Rue?” I call out.

“Yes, sweetheart. Down here.”

I’m wrapped in a thin bath towel, her AC has the house feeling like a chest freezer, and my fresh face is still stained with tears, so I’m hoping this will be brief.

The grandfather clock in the hall reads ten o’clock.

“I thought you were staying out late tonight?” I ask.

“Sweetheart, this is late. I’m usually in bed by eight. You know that.” She steps out of low, chunky heels and plugs her phone into its charger. “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long time since we cut a rug like that. I might need to see my podiatrist in the morning.”

She limps down the hall before stopping and turning to face me.

Oh, shit. She notices.

“You have a nice evening?” she asks.

I exhale, forcing a smile. “Yeah.”

“I worry about you, you know,” she says. “You came here to help me this summer, but you don’t seem like you’re having a good time.”

Aunt Rue moves closer to me.

“Listen, I know I have an active social life, but I have no intentions of slowing down anytime soon. Why don’t you call one of your sisters and see if they want to come out and stay for a bit? Maybe the two of you could borrow the car and take a trip down to South Beach? Somewhere young and hip?”

I laugh. I may be young, but I’m far from hip. I’d stick out like a sore thumb in South Beach. I’d need a whole new wardrobe too.