He wraps my shoulders with my towel. “Well, it’s silly. No one cares what words you use. You need to loosen up. Live a little. You need to do something wild every day. Though I admit, you lived it up last Sunday.”
I expel an exasperated sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t let me live that down. I’m going to hear about the other day for the rest of my life, aren’t I? You can’t be a gentleman and not say anything, can you?”
His arms come around me as he looks into my eyes. “Fuck no I’m not going to let you forget it. I sure as hell won’t forget.”
“Of course, you won’t. I’ll be shamed forever because of one stupid mistake.”
He tightens his hold when I try to escape. “What’s to be ashamed of? And why would you want to forget? That was one of the hottest experiences of my life, outside of actual sex. Come to think of it, it was hotter than some of the sex I’ve had.”
What I wouldn’t give to melt into oblivion right now. I drop my chin to my chest, unable to even look at him.
Danny sits on the lounger, pulling me into his lap. He kisses my temple. “Mo, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not. We had a mutual moment of pleasure. Big deal. It was good. It was hot. It makes me want you more every time I think about it—and I’ve thought about it a lot.”
His cock stirs beneath me. I jump to my feet, burying my face in my hands. “Good gracious, Danny. Don’t. Don’t think about it—ever. Please. Let’s just both forget it.”
He leans back, hands behind his head.
“Fuck no, Sweets. That one? It’s now proudly lodged at the top of my spank bank. It’s probably going to forever be my go-to for jacking off. If it was a real picture, within a year it’d be dog-eared, stained, and frayed at the edges.”
That smile. I want to scratch it off his freaking face. Instead, I groan.
“How did you get so uptight? What happened to you?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened. Please—I told you, I won’t sleep with you; you’re disgusting. Now, let me be, Danny. Stay. Away.”
Mo’s shoulders slump and she walks away.
Seems like she’s always walking away.
And I always let her.
Because I have to—if I don’t, Dad yanks everything.
If it was only me, fine. Money doesn’t mean shit to me. I’ll make my own fucking money. But I can’t do that to Rachel. Or Mo. I can’t deprive them of something because I want to sink my dick so deep into Mo she’ll never get me out of her head. But—it’s just sex. I can fuck any girl.
Hell, haven’t I been screwing every girl who’ll spread her legs for me since Dad first forbade me to see Mo? Fuck yeah I have. Can’t have Mo? Fine, I’ll have all the other girls and make sure as shit the world knows that I do.
So what if I have a reputation? Good. So what if it pisses dear old Dad off? Even better.
So what if Mo thinks I’m disgusting? My chest hardens and rage floods through me like a tidal wave. I grab her lounge chair and throw it into the pool. The splash is less than impressive.
Fuck.
I stalk to the house. The glass doors mock me with my reflection. I’m strong, right? I’m bad ass, right?
Then why can’t I control my own destiny?
Why can’t I have what I want? Who I want? When I want?
I want Mo. And I want her now.
But I can’t have her, so I want to fucking break something. A growl rises from deep in my gut, turning into a roar. All that ferocity gathers in my fist. With one hard swing it goes through the plate glass.
Shattered glass peppers the concrete. Damn, that feels good.
Until it doesn’t.
Wetness drips onto my foot.
Blood.
Aw, fuck me.
The sting sets in, followed by a throb. Shit. That’s a lot of red. I step into the house. Bare feet on glass, not such a great thing.
In the kitchen, I grab a towel and wrap my sliced wrist. It takes only seconds for it to soak through with blood.
I pull my phone from my pocket. Damn. Why the fuck do we have to live in the middle of fucking nowhere?
I have no choice. I’ll bleed out before a fucking ambulance can get here. I dial the last person who probably wants to take my sorry ass to the hospital.
It goes to voicemail. Try again. Voicemail. She’s just not fucking answering my calls.
Forget it. I trot to the guest house. The wound throbs like a motherfucker. I hold my arm over my left pec, blood trickles from the dripping towel, down my chest, soaking into the waistband of my shorts.
I bang on the door.
Before it’s even open, she says, “I thought I asked you to leave me alone.”
“I need you.”
“Holy crap, Danny.”
She runs inside. A couple of seconds tick by and she’s back, turning me toward her car and giving me a push.