CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JOSH

Lena and I barely made it into my house before I was inside her again. We'd already had sex once tonight. That should've taken the edge off my need, but I was addicted to this.

To her. Her taste, her smell, the little breathy moans she let out every time I thrust into her and the way her pussy clamped around my cock like it was made for me. I wanted all of it, all the time.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this ravenous over a woman.

It would've been concerning had I given a single fuck, but I subscribed to the philosophy that we should enjoy the good things while they lasted. And I was enjoying the fuck out of myself...with one notable thorn in

our encounter. "Who was the guy, Red?" I slowed my thrusts so I could reach between us and stroke her clit. A dark smile curled my mouth when her head fell back and her lips parted at the touch.

I'd been distracted by Lena's obvious provocation at Hyacinth. Now that I was home, something clawed at my chest when I remembered the way her old friend brushed her hair out of her face. It had been an intimate, knowing touch, the kind you only gave someone you'd slept with.

Given Lena's reaction when he left, she hadn't been thrilled to see him, but that didn't stop the irrational beast inside me from rearing its ugly head.

"What guy?" she gasped. She was a mess-hair tousled, lips swollen, skin slicked with sweat and marked from my teeth.

It was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

I ignored the strange pang in my chest and lowered my head until my lips brushed hers. "Your friend from the club."

Lena hadn't provided any details other than the old friend line, and I thought that would be enough. But it was an hour later, and I still couldn't shake my irritation at seeing them together.

She stiffened. She had her limbs wrapped around me while I braced her against the living room wall, and I felt the tension in every part of her body.

"He's what you said. A friend." She cocked an eyebrow. "Are you really talking about another guy while you're still inside me?"

"I'll do whatever I like when I'm inside you." I pinched her nipple, hard, in punishment. "How close of a friend is he?"

Her eyes glittered with amusement even as her mouth parted at my rough touch. "Jealous?"

"Not even a little bit."

Our exchange echoed the one we’d had at Hyacinth. Just like at the club, I scoffed at the accusation that I was jealous. I didn’t get jealous—especially not over women. People got jealous of me.

“One week into our pact and you're already bending the rules,” Lena said, her voice a low, teasing purr. “I expected better from you.”

“I’m. Not. Jealous,” I bit out, slamming into her with each word for emphasis.

She gasped. “Could’ve fooled—” Her voice cut off with a muffled noise as I clamped my hand over her mouth.

“I only want to hear you when you're begging or coming, Red.” Her glare burned into me, but the smug grin I wore faltered when sudden pain shot through my hand.

I pulled back with a sharp hiss. She’d bitten me.

“My bad.” Her face lit up with a smug, lazy grin. “Your hand was in my way.”

A growl built in my chest. I twisted her nipple again until she cried out—part pain, part pleasure.

“That’s more like it,” I murmured.

My pace picked up, unrelenting, as I pounded into her. Words dissolved into moans, and she broke apart again, trembling around me.

Lena’s head lolled back, mouth parted in a hoarse scream. The way she clenched around me was too much. I came hard, groaning as the wave crashed through me.

My blood throbbed with lust and something darker as I sank my teeth into her neck. Her cinnamon-spice scent wrapped around me, intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

“For someone who hates me so much, you sure do scream loud,” I said, brushing my thumb over the red bloom on her neck.

The possessive part of me—primal and territorial—thrilled at the sight. I wanted to shove it in her old friend's face and stake my claim. She might infuriate me, but that didn’t mean anyone else got to see her like this—relaxed, glowing, unguarded.

This version of Lena wasn’t for public consumption. She was mine. Whether she liked it or not.

“It’s a scream of disgust, Hale,” she shot back. “You probably get those a lot.”

I pulled out and laughed when her legs buckled slightly without my support.

She glared at me, fire in her eyes.

“Then it sounds like you’ve got a disgust kink, babe, because you keep crawling back for more.” I tossed the used condom in the trash and started pulling on my pants. “That’s it for tonight, Red. Any more and I’ll start charging per orgasm. But if you want more of me, I'm open to negotiation—depending on how sweetly you ask.”

“Go to hell.” She snatched her dress from the floor with a scowl.

“Not quite the tone I had in mind,” I teased. “You might want to rehearse the begging part.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter when she stalked off to the bathroom, spine straight and defiance oozing from every step.

She was too easy to provoke.

While she took her sweet time in the shower, I used the moment to tidy up our wreckage in the living room—a fallen coat rack, crooked frames, scattered pillows.

I’d just finished cleaning when a sudden boom of thunder shattered the silence. I jerked my head toward the window and pulled back the curtain.

“Shit.”

The gentle drizzle from earlier had turned into a violent downpour. Thunder cracked again, shaking the bones of the old house as sheets of rain pelted the windows, turning the glass into a chaotic blur of tiny, racing streams.

“What the hell’s going on?”

I turned just as Lena emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders and a tiny towel barely covering her body.

My dick perked up like an eager idiot, but I ignored it. It had gotten more than enough action for one night. Time to let my brain do the driving—and it was telling me loud and clear that the sooner I got Lena out of here, the better.

Too bad the storm made that impossible.

“Looks like the world ended while we were busy,” I muttered.

Lena glanced past me at the window and rolled her eyes. “Relax. It’s just a little rain.” She grabbed her phone from the table.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering a ride.” Her brow scrunched. “Surge prices are robbery when it rains—hey!”

I ignored her shout as I snatched the phone from her hand. “Unless you’re planning to reenact a final destination scene, you're not getting in a car right now.”

“It’s rain, Ethan. Not acid falling from the sky. I’ll live.”

“Rain turns roads into skating rinks,” I snapped. “I work trauma. You know how many crash victims we get when the weather’s like this? Too damn many.”

“You’re overreacting. I’m not—”

Both our phones blared with emergency flash flood alerts.

“That’s it.” I shoved her phone into my pocket. “You’re not leaving until the storm chills out.”

Even if I wanted her gone, I couldn’t let her leave in that mess. Not when there was even a slim chance something could happen.

My chest tightened.

I wasn’t going to carry another death on my conscience.

She must’ve read something serious in my face because her defiance slipped into reluctant acceptance. “Fine. Can I at least borrow something to wear? Not spending who knows how long in this dress from hell.”

Thirty minutes later, she was lounging on my couch in one of my oversized T-shirts, and we were knee-deep in a pointless argument over what to watch.

“Too slow.”

“No horror. I hate horror.”

“That one’s too corny.”

“Red, that’s a kids’ movie.”

“So? Kids’ movies can slap.”

“Yeah, if you’re an actual kid.”

She beamed. “Funny coming from the guy who bawled during The Lion King. Last year.”

I shot her a death glare. Ava. That loudmouth couldn’t keep anything to herself.

“Mufasa was innocent,” I muttered. “At least I don’t cower like a gremlin every time a horror trailer comes on.”

“I do not cower. I just avoid ugly things—which is why I avoid looking at you. And if you even think about putting on The Ring—”

“Try and stop me.”

Eventually, we gave up on choosing and settled on the most diplomatic method: close our eyes, scroll, and press play on whatever landed.

The winner? Finding Nemo.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I kept my face blank, but my whole body tensed as the movie started.

“Why so quiet?” Lena asked, watching me out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t tell me you hate this one too. It’s a classic.”

A dozen deflections rose to my lips, but one slipped out before I could hold it back. “It was me and my dad’s thing,” I said. “We watched it every birthday. Tradition.”

Something in her expression softened—like the sharp edges dulled for a moment. “We can change it.”

“Nah,” I said. “It’s just a movie.”

Onscreen, Marlin the clownfish pursued the boat that had captured his son Nemo to no avail.

It was ironic that a movie about a role model parent was the one that reminded me most of Michael, considering he was the exact opposite of a good parent.

"Finding Nemo is fish propaganda," Lena said out of nowhere. "Did you know real-life fish are terrible parents? Most fish species are happy to abandon their newborns to fend for themselves. It's not worth the energy and risk for them to try and protect their offspring."

A startled laugh escaped me. "How do you know that?"

"I did a report on it in high school. I got an A," Lena added with pride.

I suppressed another smile. "Of course you did." My leg brushed against hers when I shifted positions, and a tiny electric zing shot up my thigh before I yanked it away. "What does your dad do?" I asked, trying to cover up my knee-jerk reaction.

Part of me was also genuinely curious. Lena never talked about her family.

She shrugged. "No idea. He left when I was a baby."

"Shit. I'm sorry." Way to step into it, Hale.

"It's fine. From what I hear, he was an asshole anyway."

"Children of asshole fathers unite," I quipped, earning myself a small laugh.

We fell into a comfortable silence as we watched the movie. I only half paid attention to what was happening onscreen; the other half was busy gauging Lena's reactions to my favorite scenes. Her laugh when Marlin met Dory, her gasp when the shark started chasing the pair, her

humming along to Dory's famous just keep swimming mantra.

She must've seen the movie already, but she reacted like it was her first time. It was oddly charming.

I dragged my eyes back to the screen. Focus.

It was only when we neared the end of the film that I realized the rain had stopped. I checked on Lena to find her passed out with her head nestled against the throw pillow on her other side.

One of our rules was no sleepovers, but she looked so peaceful I couldn't bring myself to wake her up.

It was only one night, and the weather had forced her to stay over. It wasn't like we were going to make a habit of staying over each other's places.

Just one night. That's it.