I palm the back of my neck, my nerves wired beyond repair. Hell, what the fuck do I say to that?
A part of me wants to bolt from the van, hitch a ride back to Brock’s, and pull Amber into my arms, telling her she knows she belongs with me. Like she does mine, I’m invading her dreams, undeniable thoughts of me taking up residence in every crevice of her skull. Yet the other part of me has my stomach tumbling with nausea, my conscience aware that none of this is cool. My feelings for Amber, her feelings for me, Brock wanting to share her: it’s all a dangerous shit storm of emotions brewing, waiting to demolish us all.
Still, how do any of us control how we feel? It’s not as simple as erasing something. If it were, my need for Amber would be written on my heart with a fucking Sharpie—impossible to remove. The heart fires off warning flares when something’s not right—and hell if they aren’t exploding in mine right now—but how the fuck do I stop wanting someone I know was made for me?
The answer’s a clear-cut, jagged piece of glass. One I’m sure is gonna bleed me the fuck out at the end . . .
I can’t.
I haul in a breath, my lungs begging for air as I try to wrap my head around everything Brock’s dumped in my lap. “I don’t know what to say.”
He swings his attention to me, his expression a lethal blend of determination, pain, and confusion. “I’m not losing it, bro. I just love the girl, and want to fulfill every fantasy she has. I know you think my reasons are self-serving, but they aren’t. This is about the pleasure we’d give her. We could help get rid of everything weighing her down.” He pauses a second, a smirk twitching his mouth. “You have no idea what she’s like in bed. The filthy things she says. The way she moves. It’s like she was a dude in a former life. She kills it, knowing exactly what to do. No joke, my girl was created to fuck a man into oblivion.”
I gnaw on my lip, sure I’ve drawn blood. His statement ignites a series of explicit images that trample my mind, my cock awakening as jealousy simmers deep within my gut.
“I’m not saying that to sway you,” he continues. “You don’t need swaying, Ashcroft. I see the way you stare into her eyes. You think you look controlled around her. You might fool Amber, but I’ve known you a long time. I’m quite aware you’re a fucking mess when she’s within a mile of you.” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head as he drags his attention back to the road. “To be honest, it . . . fascinates me. You’ve only been broken once, and after Stephanie pounced all over your heart, fucking that dirty old man, you shut down, never allowing another bitch to get into your head. Amber’s got ya hooked, and you have yet to fully experience her.”
Wondering how I’ve maintained a friendship with the prick for as long as I have, I grit my teeth, positive I’m about to beat him to the fucking ground. “You’re a douche, you know this, right?”
“Ah, but I’m a giving, sharing douche, my friend.” He grins. I shake my head, still trying to understand the dark depths of his brain. “I even know you two kissed . . . again, while she was at your apartment.”
Christ. This keeps getting better. I rush a hand through my unkempt hair, wishing she would’ve given me a heads-up that she’d told him. “You know about that, huh?”
“Yeah. She said you tried to stop it, so I have to give you props for that, right?”
A medal’s more like it.
He’s lucky I didn’t bang the shit outta Amber right there in my kitchen. Had Casey not been in the next room, it would’ve happened.
I sigh, knowing I’m fooling myself. I wouldn’t have taken her like that. I crave Amber, God knows I do—but unbeknownst to her, I was seconds from stopping before she pulled away. I knew she deserved better than a quick fuck on my counter. I’ve lost control around her multiple times, screwing Brock over to no end. Since the day he started dating the girl, I’ve relentlessly pursued her, willing to throw away our friendship for a taste of what’s rightfully his. And I’m the one questioning his darkness?
“Why?”
He glances at me, his brows dipped in confusion. “Why what?”
“Why, after knowing what I’ve done behind your back—even if it was just kissing—would you ever consider sharing her with me?” I take a breath, feeling like the asshole I’ve become. “I don’t get it.”
He stays quiet a minute, thoughts moving behind his eyes before saying, “Because you didn’t fuck her when I know you could’ve. Call me nuts, but instead of making me not trust you, that made me trust you more.”
Trust. Something I’ve tarnished, tainted beyond recognition, but am being rewarded with.
“So now what?” I ask, unsure what to do, what to say. Hell, I feel psychotic, my head a tangled mess.
Brock grips the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “Tell me if she’s down with it, then so are you.” He turns to me, his eyes imploring. “Help me give her what she needs. What she . . . wants.”
A fiend at his worst, this junkie’s eager to get his fix no matter what he has to do. Amber’s my obsession, the sweetest addiction a man like me can have. And right now—even if it goes against what I would or wouldn’t do if she were mine—I nod, praying the deal I’ve struck with the devil doesn’t sink us all.
• • •
By the time we pull up to Dom’s farmhouse in Harpers Ferry—a lifeless town in no-man’s-land West Virginia—my mind’s spun in every fucking direction. It’s close to six in the evening, the sun long past its descent, as Brock parks the rental van around the back.