BRANDON
“Imissed you so much,” Clara’s soft voice whispers in my ear as she trails kisses on my neck and jaw.
We’re standing in the middle of my room as she moans softly. My hand rests around her waist just so I can force her in place when she tries to kiss my mouth.
It’s illogical and makes no bloody sense, but I haven’t kissed her or allowed her to kiss me since that damn night I lost all control a week ago.
And earlier today.
My eyes close in remembrance of his lips, his hard body, and the way he kissed me.
I shove all that chaos out of my mind.
It didn’t happen.
It’s nothing.
If I think that long enough, maybe this whole thing will blow over and I’ll go back to my safe little bubble.
Clara doesn’t mind the subtle rejection. I don’t think she cares. It’s why I keep her close. She’s fine with the relationship staying shallow. She never probes, never asks any stupid questions. And she certainly doesn’t ask what happened to my bandaged hand every day like a certain twat who refuses to give up.
Since I couldn’t avoid her any longer, I invited her over to my room after dinner at a posh restaurant. Instead of eating, I spent most of the time taking her pictures and pretending I wasn’t bored out of my fucking mind.
I tried dropping her off at the dorms and leaving, but she wasn’t having it tonight and insisted that I had to see her lingerie.
I did. It’s pretty, I guess. A one-piece transparent red lace thing that showcases her nipples and has an opening to her pussy. The tight, strappy material clings to her skin, complementing her curvy figure.
But I’d still rather we didn’t have to do this. For me, sex has always been a constant state of mundane release. I could do without it, and I did for months, but it could have been forever, to be honest, which is why Clara went to find it elsewhere. Unlike what Lan and the others think, I don’t mind. My only problem is the secrecy. I told her we could be in an open relationship, and she became mental, demanding monogamy she can’t keep up with.
She can shag whoever she likes, but tonight, she’s decided that’s going to be me.
“You smell so good, babe.”
I try to stay in the moment, I really do, but now that she’s called me that, I can’t help imagining different, crueler lips trailing kisses on my neck.
Hers are soft, his were fucking wild.
Focus.
She skips the plaster I slapped on the second hickey he gave me in the same fucking place. Like a savage. Only, now, I don’t only have a mark on my Adam’s apple. They’re also all over my chest—dark red and purple, as if I’ve been bruised.
Considering what Nikolai did in that corner earlier today, I might as well be.
Clara’s fingers grip my T-shirt, trying to take it off, but I pull it back down, kissing her throat and refusing to get stuck in my head again.
I breathe her flowery perfume and try not to gag. I’ve never liked the smell.
That’s because you prefer something more masculine.The memory of bergamot and mint floods my nose and I tighten my muscles.
No.
She moans and I hate how soft it sounds. She grinds against me and I loathe how tender she feels.
Her breasts rub and slide against my chest, but all I can think about are hard muscles.
You’re hard for me, not her.
The sound of his voice in my head causes a twitch in my dormant dick.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I pull away from Clara with a shove, my mind swimming in disturbing chaos.
She doesn’t take the hint and saunters toward me again with bright eyes, her blonde hair swishing against her lower back.
I take another step back and hold up a hand. “I’m just not in the mood, Clara. I’m sorry. I think it’s exhaustion from the game.”
Her smile is forced at best as she reaches for my belt. “I can help you get rid of all that tension, sexy.”
“No. I’m good. Thanks for offering.” I grab her dress that she stripped off teasingly earlier and hand it over. “I’m sorry again.”
Her shoulders hunch, but she takes the dress and starts to put it on. “We haven’t shagged since we got back together, Bran. Is something wrong?”
Everything is fucking wrong.
But I don’t say that and smile instead. “Just a lot to think about. I’ll be fine after some time.”
“Okaaay,” she drawls out the word. “Love you, babe.”
She waits for a beat, but when I don’t say it back, she turns to leave.
“Clara.”
She spins on her heel, a hopeful smile on her face. I should probably break up with her. This time for good. It’s not right to lead her on when I feel absolutely nothing for her.
Ever since I was in secondary school, whenever a girl has asked me out, I’ve said yes, knowing they just wanted me to take them home so they could meet Lan.
I didn’t mind. Because I had a girlfriend at all times, even if she was giving Lan fuck-me eyes. He never did—fuck them, I mean. But he always forwarded me screenshots of them sending him nudes and begging him to do obscene things to them.
I never responded. Just broke up with them over text and deleted whatever Lan sent me.
It didn’t matter. They were all part of an image. I never stayed with one more than a couple of weeks.
I met Clara in uni, and she made it her mission to ensure we’d bump into each other by ‘coincidence’ in the places I frequent. I recognized her tactics from a mile away, but, again, I didn’t mind. The reason I’ve stayed with her the longest is because, for the first time, someone came straight to me instead of Lan.
In fact, she doesn’t seem to like him. Probably because he often treats her like an insignificant insect.
So I kept her. She doesn’t get her nose in my business as long as I take her to high-end restaurants, buy her luxurious brands, and pose for pictures.
We broke up whenever she cheated, which happened four times that I know of, but then she said she was sorry and that she wouldn’t do it again and I forgave her.
I technically cheated on her, too, so let’s call it even.
Lan is wrong. She never hurt me. I’d have to have feelings to be hurt, and I don’t do those.
She was just a convenience and now, she’s not.
“We should take a break,” I say casually.
Her face falls and she nearly drops her precious Chanel bag. “But why? I didn’t do anything.”
“It’s not you. It’s me. I cheated on you.” But even as I say that, it doesn’t feel right. Being with her just now felt like I was cheating on him. Not the other way around.
I need to stab a fucking shard of glass in my neck this time.
Clara’s lips part and she frowns. “Wow, okay. That’s shitty.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t mean a fucking word, but I say it anyway. Because that’s what’s expected. I’m nothing short of extremely considerate and spectacularly polite.
Except for when it comes to a certain wanker.
She closes the distance between us and grabs my hand in hers, nude fake nails scraping against my skin. “It’s okay. We’ve been through this before, babe. It hurts that you went to someone else, but I can forgive you like you forgave me all those times.”
I push away her hand and step back. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”
“Do you like her that much? I can do a threesome if that’s what you want.”
Desperate is exceptionally annoying.
My tone is detached as I shake my head. “We’re breaking up, Clara.”
“You can’t do this shit to me!” She stomps her foot on the floor. “I’m not breaking up with you. This isn’t how it works.”
“This is exactly how it works. Please leave.” I push her toward the door and open it.
She stands in the hallway and screams, “No! I refuse this.”
“We’re done.”