Page 35 of Downfall

“Stop.” It’s meant to come out stern, but it sounds more whiny than anything.

“My thumb working your clit faster and faster until…”

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

“Not yet.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic? I’ve fucked my fist to the thought of you for the last six years. Don’t talk to me about pathetic.”

The admission almost knocks me off my feet, a small gasp escaping despite my best efforts.

“Ask me why,” he demands.

My gaze flicks to him, my brows tightening.

“Go ahead. Ask me why I won’t fuck you.”

“Why?” I choke out before I can think better of it.

“Because you’re drunk, Skylar. Because I’ve dreamt about sinking inside you again for six years, and when I do, I want you to feel everything. Every little twitch, every pulse, every fucking flutter of my heart.”

My eyes fill with saline, but I will the tears not to fall.

“Then you’ll know,” he continues.

“Know what?” I whisper.

“That I lied.”

His words repeat over and over again in my head like the chorus of a stupid pop song.

Because then you’ll know that I lied.

Lied about what? About me belonging to him? Or that I didn’t mean anything to him? I didn’t bother asking before I shoved him out of my room and locked the door. The alcohol made everything too hazy and confusing. But now, hours later, as I toss and turn, completely sober, his words refuse to fade. If anything, they only grow louder with every minute that passes.

Frustrated, I rip the blanket off and march downstairs to get a glass of water. The red numbers on the oven mock me. It’s three in the morning. I’ll be lucky if I get a couple of hours of sleep tonight. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I turn on the tap of Declan’s fancy reverse osmosis water system and chug down the cool liquid. A door closing upstairs, followed by faint footsteps, catches my attention.

Is he awake?

I refill the glass and down it before making my way back up the stairs. The hallway is quiet, and when I get to his door, it’s closed. I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I turn the knob slightly and it gives. Realizing that it’s unlocked, I yank my hand back and turn around, freezing in place when I hear the soft moans. A whispered curse. My name floats through the crack in the door, and it sounds like regret.

I’ve fucked my fist to the thought of you for the last six years.

I should move. I should run to my room and not look back, but my feet stay rooted to the floor.

“Skylar.”

It’s louder now. Shuffling. Bare feet on the hardwood. My pulse pounds against my ribs. He was touching himself to the thought of me and now…now he knows I was listening.

“Sky.” There’s a thud at the door as if he let his forehead fall against it. I do the same, reaching up to rest my palm next to my face.

We stay like that for a minute, maybe, and when the door finally opens, Declan stands there in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair disheveled, breathing hard.

His stormy eyes search mine, probing, dissecting, seeking out answers, but I don’t think he’s going to find any. I barely know what I’m doing myself.

Walk away, the voice in my head screams at me, but my feet stay firmly planted on the ground.