Page 43 of One More Night
FIFTEEN
Corinne
I’ve decided it’s a sickness, love. Or lust, as it may be.
I dreamed of Jordan for years, built him up to be this god among men who’d whisk me way on his fine steed one day and spoil me like the queen I’m destined to be.
Seems he’s merely the devil in disguise, getting his kicks by ruining the lives of those he touches.
And yet all I can think about is him.
That body.
His touch.
The wicked smile he has before he blows my mind.
The intensity he displays while he’s lost in thought.
When he thinks I’m not watching.
I’m always watching, and that right there is the problem. I’m addicted to him. To his secrets, to the mystique … to the lie.
Perhaps if I learnt the truth it would kill the dream? Maybe that’s what I need to do? Remove the rose tinted glasses and dig below the dirt to see what rots beneath.
A gentle knock at the door breaks me from my stupor. I’ve sat in the same spot since Chase and Jordan left, wine clutched in one hand, his shirt bunched in the other.
Yeah. I shamelessly inhaled until his scent barely remains.
Like I said—I’m sick.
“Coming.” I unfold my legs off the sofa, and make my way to the door.
A small flame burns in the hope it’s him. But I know better than to expect him to beg.
He’s too proud. That compromise over Chinese was as good as I’d get. I should have said yes, but I was conflicted having Chase there. It’s silly, but I still want my brother to be proud of my choices in life. Sending Jordan away was one of those.
I unlatch the door, and lean against the wall as I pull it open. It swings to a stop revealing Chase again, but this time he has backup.
“Are you mad at me?” Sarah asks, worry in her eyes.
“Of course not.” I smile sadly, holding my brother’s gaze when she moves in for a hug.
Her arms circle me, careful not to knock the wine still in my hand. “I was worried about you, girl. You never hang up on anyone.”
“Because it wasn’t me that did it.” I chuckle sadly. “He was concerned.”
“With what?” She pulls away and moves into the apartment, Chase silently following.
I down the last of my drink as I shut the door. This is bound to warrant a second glass.
“He could hear you giving your opinion and thought it was upsetting me.”
“Was it?” She drops onto the sofa, Chase choosing to lean against the windowsill.
“A little. But you had good intentions, hon.” I hesitate with the wine bottle poised over the glass, and then set the vessel aside.
Fuck it. Tonight calls for drinking from the bottle.