“Come here,” he mutters under his breath, outstretching his arms and inviting me in. I just shake my head and smile.

I bend low and kiss him once, pulling back when he tries to wrap me in an embrace. “Goodnight, Dempsey,” I murmur as I pick up his shirt and slip it back over my head before exiting his room.

20. Dempsey

Chapter 20

Dempsey

I lie across my bed sideways, shame and bewilderment coursing through me. It’s been more than three hours since Maddie Wheeler waltzed into my room and gave me the best head of my life. I’ve hated myself a little more every second since.

We’re playing a dangerous game. Every time we get away with something like this, we deceive ourselves a little more, like what we’re doing is okay. Like if we do this, it won’t bleed into other parts of our lives. Like we can give in to our mutual attraction, and it’ll never get back to him.

I’ve spent the last few hours trying to decide what makes me hate myself more. What I allowed and how it could affect him? Or what I accepted without reciprocating?

I let her have her way with me, and I was too mind-fucked by the whole encounter to return the favor. I basically used her mouth and tits to get off, then sent her back to bed.

I should never have let her straddle me. Or undo the button of my pants. Or wrap her mouth around my dick. The second I saw her tits, I knew it was over. There’s no fucking way I won’t be back for more.

She pushes me constantly. And all I want to do is take.

The alarm on my phone vibrates, so I haul myself out of bed like I have three times already tonight and quietly head downstairs.

By the time I make it to his room, I’ve let my frustration about Maddie bloom into anger.

If he hadn’t done what he did… if he hadn’t gotten mixed up with another man’s wife... none of this would be a problem. He made such shitty choices. Now I have to live in the shadow of the consequences.

“Field,” I call out, loud enough to startle him. When he doesn’t move, I go for the kill shot, jabbing him in the armpit of his good arm until he jumps off the mattress.

“Fuck,” he hisses, whether from the pain or the abrupt wake up call, I’m not sure. He comes to and shakes out his mess of blond curls before reaching over for a sip of water.

“Good. You’re still alive,” I mock as I turn around and head back out of the room.

“You’re usually a little nicer to me when I’m possibly concussed,” he mutters before taking another sip of water and sitting up straighter in bed.