He’s family. And after Mona, I can’t lose one more person I love.
But my throbbing body, my pounding cock competes with regret. India is… she’s my weakness. My lust for her my personal Sword of Damocles, hanging over my head, ready to fall and pierce me at any given time.
And fuck if I don’t want to be run through with it.
Sighing, I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “India, I—”
The words stutter, than disappear from my lips. Because she’s gone. Just her jasmine and fresh rain scent lingers in the small entryway that’s once more the site of our fall from grace.
“Goddamn it,” I growl, battling the urge to yank the door open and see if her car is still backing out of my driveway. So I can—what? Catch up with her? Make this worse by apologizing? By calling her a mistake again?
I have no idea, no fucking clue what I’m doing.
But one thing’s for certain. If I touch her one more time in this foyer, I’m going to have to tear the fucker down with my bare hands.