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Without thinking, I slid one hand into the waistband of my leggings.

Oh, God.

This was so wrong.

I chomped down on my bottom lip to mask the whimper that teased my throat.

My fingers trailed lower, finding my slick flesh. I was drenched, ablaze, sickeningly aroused. My back arched slightly off the mattress as my eyes squeezed shut, and I stroked two fingers along my seam. It didn’t take long for the tingling feeling to crest. I was pent-up, full of hot tension with nowhere to go. My fingers flicked hard and fast over my swollen clit, my mind racing with forbidden images of Reed’s face buried between my legs.

Panting.

Squeezing my thighs until they bruised from his fingertips.

Spreading me wider.

I envisioned his tongue thrusting in and out, lapping at me, reckless and hungry, his teeth nicking me as his mouth latched onto my clit and sucked hard, and our combined moans pushed me over the finish line.

I broke, blanketed in a wash of spine-tingling, leg-buckling fireworks as I slapped a hand over my mouth. I came hard, tremors racing through me, stars flickering behind my eyes. My body hummed through the release, bowing off the bed then collapsing back down, until the feeling puttered out and I deflated.

Silence greeted me in the aftermath. Only the light drone of the space heater filled the bedroom, mingling with Tara’s snores.

I covered my face with both hands.

My wounds pulsed. My skin burned hot with post-orgasm flush. My thoughts spiraled, and my eyes welled with new tears.

I’d just masturbated a few feet away from my best friend, on Christmas morning, while fantasizing about her father.

It was sick and twisted.

Humiliation sunk me as I tugged the blankets all the way up until I was hidden beneath them. But I knew I couldn’t hide forever. Eventually, I’d need to face this trainwreck head-on.

But, in the back of my mind, I knew…

Not all collisions left you rising from the ashes.

Some just left you shattered, buried in the wreckage of your own mistakes.

CHAPTER 16

Sweat poured down my face like vitality-infused rain as my gloved fists pummeled the punching bag. Over the past month, Reed had transformed the back office of his studio into a dynamic workout haven. Dumbbells and kettlebells of various weights shimmered under the ceiling lights, while resistance bands hung from hooks. A workout bench was stationed near a yoga mat that was neatly laid out in another corner, awaiting its turn for the cooldown stretches that would follow my session.

My winded pants echoed off the walls as my ponytail swung side to side, muscles stretching and straining, lungs burning.

Release.

“Damn. Who pissed you off?” Scotty materialized in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame, arms folded.

I sent him a sidelong glance, hardly faltering as the bag pendulated in front of me. “Today?” I answered through a hard exhale. “Bob Ross.”

“Impossible.”

“It is possible. His trees are way too happy. It’s unrealistic and offensive to the sad trees.” Scotty huffed a laugh as I steadied the bag and plucked off each glove. “Speaking of too happy, why are you smiling like a serial killer who just stumbled upon his next victim?”

His overly bright smile fell, and he straightened from the doorway, slamming his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Morbid analogy. Bob Ross really got to you, huh?”

“Or maybe I know from experience.” I pulsed my eyebrows wickedly, then pumped a fist up and down to mimic stabbing motions.

Scotty’s brows furrowed as he stared at my pumping hand.