Tears of love

5. Excuses.

CHAPTER 5: Excuses.

The drive home is fast—too fast. Jeremy keeps glancing at me every few seconds, licking his lips. The air feels thick with desire, and I bite down on mine when his hand slides over my thigh. The back of his pinky drifts to the inside, and with a firm squeeze, he makes me part my legs just a little.

I let out a soft moan, leaning my head back against the seat. Jer’s jaw tightens; he looks like he’s fighting every ounce of self-control he has. But then he loses the battle, slipping his hand beneath my dress to cup me possessively through the thin fabric.

I was afraid—or maybe I was hoping—that somewhere on the way home he’d come to his senses and stop this. But when his fingers trace the wet line between my folds, I know stopping isn’t even an option anymore.

When we reach his house, all the lights are off. Jeremy quietly ushers me inside, leading me up the stairs in the dark until we reach his room.

When he kisses me, it’s devastating.

My s*x life isn’t exactly impressive—I’ve fooled around, kissed a few people after one too many drinks—but it’s never gone this far. Not like it’s about to tonight.

And I can’t help but wonder if, deep down, I’ve been waiting for him all along.

Jeremy kisses like he’s been doing it forever. Expert, deliberate, and so damn intense that my legs start trembling. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, desperate and rough, and I don’t even know where to put my hands—so I just wrap them around his neck.

“Are you sure about this, Rora?” he asks breathlessly against my lips.

Am I?

Honestly… I’m not.

It feels dirty somehow, like something done in secret, something that shouldn’t be happening. But I walked into this willingly. I accepted this moment, even knowing it might wreck me later. And no matter how stupid the consequences will be for my heart, I don’t want to stop.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice unsteady. To prove it, I slip my hands under his shirt, dragging my nails softly down his back. Jer shuts his eyes and swallows hard; the movement of his throat hypnotizes me, and I barely notice when he pushes me back against the wall. He catches my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head, caging me in.

“Don’t touch me. Not yet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear before biting the lobe gently. “If you touch me, butterfly, I swear I’ll last a lot less than either of us expects.”

His mouth trails down my neck, sucking greedily at my skin. My head tilts to the side on instinct, giving him more access. I inhale his scent—the one that’s haunted me for years—and my whole body trembles at how good he feels pressed against me. His breath is hot on my skin, his tongue teasing, his teeth grazing, and then his hand slides up between my thighs, where I’m already pulsing for him.

“Jer,” I gasp when his thumb presses between my folds, finding that tiny spot that makes me burn. “Jer, I—”

Why does some part of me still want to run?

“Do you trust me?” he whispers, sucking on my lower lip slowly.

I nod, meeting his now-dark eyes.

“Then let me,” he breathes.

I don’t answer, but he smiles anyway—and then moves the soaked fabric of my panties aside. His fingers find bare skin, and I arch against the wall. Jeremy’s gaze drops to my chest, my breasts rising and falling quickly, and he bites his lip, mesmerized.

His free hand traces lazy circles around my stomach, just above my navel, while two fingers play with my c**t, teasing, circling, pressing. More heat floods between my legs. My eyes flutter shut, my mouth opens around his name. His hair brushes my jaw, and then his mouth finds my breast, sucking it through the thin fabric before biting softly. A jolt of fire shoots through me.

“You’re so f*****g wet,” he groans, tapping my c**t with his fingers before lowering them to my entrance and pushing in just a little—

And then his phone rings.

“f**k!” he curses, pressing his forehead against mine. With his free hand, he fumbles his phone out of his pocket.

My heart is pounding in my ears, his hand still warm between my legs—but then he pulls away, fast. His jaw locks tight.

“Tyler,” he mutters hoarsely, taking a step back. “Your sister?”

His eyes meet mine, and my stomach twists at what I see there.

Shame. Regret.

“She… she must be in her room already,” he says, running a hand through his hair, his voice desperate.

He looks wrecked, standing by the window with his back to me.

I stay frozen for a few seconds, and then the reality of what’s coming hits me. I quickly fix my dress, fidgeting with a strand of hair while I stare at his tense shoulders.

“Yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he says into the phone, hanging up. He doesn’t even turn to look at me. “I’m sorry.” His forearm presses against the window frame, his muscles tight.

“I…” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat quietly. “I should go.”

“Yeah.”

That’s it. No look, no apology that sounds real. Just yeah.

He says, “I’m sorry,” again, voice low and strained. “I don’t know what got into me. Guess the drinks got to my head.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

Drinks?

Jeremy hasn’t touched a single f*****g drop tonight.

But fine. If he wants to hide behind that excuse, let him.

He’s acting like we were about to commit a crime, and that pisses me off more than anything. I want to cry—but not because his words hurt. They don’t. They make me furious.

It took everything in me to accept this. To sneak into his house like I was some dirty secret. I gave up a piece of my pride when I let him touch me, knowing damn well I might only ever be a rebound.

And now this asshole’s blaming it all on alcohol?

Coward.

A f*****g coward who doesn’t even have the balls to look me in the eye and admit he wants me.

“Go to hell, Jeremy.”

I storm out of that house, heading straight for my room.

And for the first time, I don’t let myself think about that asshole—not even in my dreams.