Micah
Alora’s mouth is hot on mine, her curvy body pressed tightly against me as her tongue strokes inside of my mouth. Her hands have fisted the front of my suit coat, holding me in place, as best as her five-foot-four stature will allow. When she breaks the kiss, she leans back in and bites my lip. Hard.
Smirking up at me, she laughs with a wrinkle of her nose. “Oops. I guess I was a little rough.” She pats my chest. “But you like it rough. We’ll do something about that later.” The not-so-subtle suggestion of what she’d like to do with me falls flat.
Rubbing my fingers carefully over the injury, my eyes track Daphne as she skirts around the edge of the room, walking as quickly as she can in her strappy heels toward the double doors. She looks fucking gorgeous in her new dress. It’s strapless and a shade of green that matches her eyes—eyes that look wet with unshed tears when our gazes lock and hold across the distance between us. My jaw tenses, and I wrench my stare away. I don’t deserve to even look at her.
What I really want is to take her into my arms and dance the night away with her, like I’d promised. Like I’d fucking promised.
But I can’t. I close my eyes, dropping my head back on my shoulders. I exhale sharply through my nose. I can’t.
At my side, Alora babbles excitedly about something, but whatever she’s saying doesn’t register at all. A wretched beast claws at my chest from the inside, trying to escape so it can chase after Daphne.
It’s me. I’m the beast. And I know I’ve destroyed that girl. Ruined her and everything she may have felt for me.
My eyes flick down to Alora, taking in her luscious chestnut locks, wicked-dark eyes, pouty lips, and ample breasts, which are barely tucked into her dress. Once upon a time, she’d been exactly the sort of girl I looked for. Someone who let me be me and didn’t fucking question whatever I wanted. She’d been happy to have whatever piece of me I’d been able to offer.
I’m so fucking broken that no one would want the real me if they knew, so I’ve held everyone at a distance. Until Daphne.
But now it’s obvious Alora wants more, and she’s making it understood in a way I never could have fathomed. I never thought she would stoop so low.
I’m so fucking stuck in this predicament, I don’t know what to do with myself or which way to turn. I’m stuck with Alora, this person I don’t want to be with anymore—stuck being someone I’m notanymore. Someone I like even less than before.
My eyes slam shut, and I try my damnedest to push everything out of my mind. There’s only one way I’m getting through this—alcohol.
I give a disturbed chuckle, earning an odd look from Alora and several other people nearby.
I have to find a way to make living through this easier because right now, my mind is swamped with guilt. It’s dragging me down into a despair so deep I’m afraid I’ll never crawl my way out.
“Did you hear me, Micah?” Alora pokes me in the side, her manicured nail digging between my ribs. “I want to dance.” She aims her most persuasive expression my way and rubs her tits against my arm again.
I really wish she’d stop doing that. Don’t get me wrong, they’re fantastic. But it’s not her body I so desperately crave.
Inwardly, I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Whatever.” I allow her to drag me by the hand toward the dance floor.
Because I don’t have a fucking choice.
As we begin to move together, I note Beau and Xander standing off to the side in heated discussion. Every once in a while, they look my way. I can only fucking imagine what they are thinking. They know me better than most … and yet, they don’t.
I feel the walls closing in. I can’t breathe.
Alora turns around, pressing her back to my front. She grabs my outer thighs, really getting into the song and shaking her hips to the beat while she grinds her ass against me. She thinks she’s turning me on, but nope. All I feel is the pounding beat of the music as I concentrate on the way it thumps through my body and lulls my mind. Helps me forget.
Reaching into the little pocket in my suit coat, I pull out a tiny bottle of vodka, unscrew the cap, and toss some back. I throw the bottle to the floor, not giving a single fuck who sees it.
If I had to make a guess, I’d say I’ve consumed no fewer than eight shots in the last hour and a half.
Anything to numb me. Anything so I don’t have to feel this.
Alora turns around, dancing close. She throws a coy smile my way but her red-painted lips do nothing for me. Her hands grab at my hips as she plasters her body to mine, then they slide back and squeeze my ass.
My dick gives a half-hearted twitch, then settles, not down with her blatant groping. My lips form a tight line. This is not how I imagined tonight going.
Visions of my tall, slim, nerdy Star Wars girl swim in front of my eyes. She’d looked so fucking good. So good.
What have I done? I bite down on the inside of my mouth, drawing blood. I did what I had to.
Yeah, buddy. Keep fucking telling yourself that.