Cracked wide open

I pull my arm from his hand and take a step back.

“I promised Aunt Ava I’d find you, and I did,” I say, my words coming out sluggishly. “Now I’m going home.”

I don’t give him a chance to reply. I turn away, my steps slow and wobbly, but I keep moving.

I can feel the danger in the air around us. The danger in his words. The kind that warns you when something is about to shift. Something that you might not be able to come back from.

I stumbled towards my car. The need to leave pushing me forward. I know I’m high, but I can’t risk staying. I’ll drive really slowly if that’s what it takes to make sure I arrive home in one piece.

Relief hits me when I finally reach my car. My hands tremble as I struggle to dig the keys from my pocket when I feel him behind me. His body heat scorching me and heating the air between us.

I stiffen, my back becoming ramrod. Before I can react, he spins me around and pins me to my car.

“Please,” he begs, his stormy gray eyes rooting me to the spot.

They hypnotize me. Drawing me into the depths and pulling me under like a tide. For a heartbeat, I forget all the reasons why I shouldn’t be here. Why staying is a bad idea.

He steps closer, invading every inch of my personal space. We are flush against each other. So close that I can feel every hard ridge of his body pressed against me.

I shake my head trying to clear the fog, trying to remember how to say no, but it doesn’t do shit.

I feel him in a way I’ve never felt him. I’m close to him in a way I’ve never been. It messes with my head, making it hard for me to think straight.

I place my hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but nothing happens. I should push him away. I want to, but for some weird reason, I can’t.

Then, without warning, his hands are on me. First on my hips, then my waist. Sparks burst forth on every spot he touches me.

“Noah,” I whisper, my voice a plea. Pleading with him to let me go. To put an end to whatever was happening, but he does the opposite; he ignites the fire into a burning inferno.

I don’t have time process anything before he crashes his lips onto mine… And just like that, the sparks turn into a wildfire.

There is no tenderness in the kiss, just need. It’s bruising. It’s scorching. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt.

We are breathing hard when he pulls away, both of us staring at each other in shock, and something else… Hunger. Pure, undiluted hunger

This is my chance to walk away. To forget that that kiss ever happened. I should just leave, but I don’t.

His kiss brought forth feelings I had long forgotten. Feelings I had long buried. Years of burying them under the rubble and a single kiss undoes all the effort I had put in. It’s like, the fact that he has hated me doesn’t even matter.

Our eyes remain on each other, well, that is until something snaps in both of us. I don’t know who moves first; all I know is that we clash in a flurry of limbs and lips.

He devours me, his hand caressing every inch of my body. My mind is screaming warnings, but I can’t hear them over the pleasure coursing through me. It’s messy and reckless. Wrong in every possible way, but it feels like heaven.

In that moment, riding high on the feel of his body, I don’t feel a shroud of regret.

***

Morning light filters through the thin curtains, dragging me from sleep. My head throbs, and everything feels off.

I blink up at a ceiling I don’t recognize. This isn’t my room. I’m a little bit confused as I try to piece together where I am and how I ended up here.

The heavy arm around my waist is a sure sign that I am in somebody’s bed.

I turn slowly, dread seeping inside my bones. It’s been almost two years since I had a one-night stand, so what the hell happened, and how did I end up here?

When his face registers, everything crashes into me like a fucking avalanche, threatening to bury me alive. The cliff. The kiss. The motel. His hands. My moans. His name on my lips.

Panic grips me, and fear cripples me.

Of all people, why did it have to be him?

Memory after memory assaults me as I scramble out of bed. He fucked me on the hood of my car. I’d thought that was it, but then he told me that he wasn’t done with me yet. We ended up here, where we spent hours tangled in each other.

I scramble to get my clothes. My mind is a huge mess, and my heart won’t stop racing. I can barely breathe as I dress quickly, hoping to leave before he wakes up.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it was supposed to happen, so how did I let it happen? Being high isn’t a damn excuse.

My eyes trail to Noah’s sleeping form. He is on his back, one arm over his eyes and the sheets down to his waist.

A barrage of more scenes comes flooding back into my mind. Scenes I have a feeling would be burned in my memory for the rest of my life

I stand rooted in horror just watching him. Tears spring to my eyes as the weight of what happened between us weighs me down.

My breathing quickens as shame floods my chest.

I slept with Noah Woods.

I slept with Chloe’s husband.

The words continue ringing over and over again in my head like a broken record.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I mutter as guilt and self-disgust press down on me.

A sob claws its way up my throat, but I swallow it down. I need to get out of here. I need to get away before he wakes up and—

Too late.

“What the fuck is going on?” His voice is hoarse and sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

I freeze.

A moment passes, and then his booming voice says, “What the fuck are you doing here, Sierra?”

I turn slowly to face him, and the look in his eyes nearly knocks the wind out of me. Disgust. Pure, unfiltered disgust.

I don’t say a single word. I’m too shocked, too horrified, too emotional to say a single word.

He sits up, scrubbing a hand down his face. Then he laughs bitterly.

“Let me guess,” he sneers. “My mom sent you to check on me, and you saw your golden opportunity to finally get in my pants; is that it?”

“W-what?” I stammer, barely able to register his harsh words.

“You knew I was high. You figured since you’ve been drooling over my dick for years, you’d take advantage of the moment.”

“That’s not—”

He cuts me off before I could finish my sentence.

“Right,” he cuts me off coldly. “You knew I wouldn’t fuck you sober, so you went for it when my defenses were down. Do you feel better, Sierra? Was it everything that you’d imagined? I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

His words are cruel, cutting me to the very core of my existence. Noah knew how to crash me. He knew how to destroy me until there was nothing left and I was barely breathing.

I couldn’t stop the tears, but they didn’t seem to affect him. He just stared at me in disgust, with a sneer on his face.

He gets up from the bed, gets his pants, and slips them on.

I begin to shake when he starts walking towards me, only stopping a few feet away.

“I didn’t want you then, and I sure as hell don’t want you now,” he says, each word like poison. “You’re nothing but a desperate whore.”

I don’t think. All I know is that I had heard enough.

My hand flies before I can stop it. The sound of the slap echoes in the small motel room. His face jerks to the side. The red imprint on his cheek eases something in me and gives me a flicker of satisfaction.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, asshole.” I snap, my voice trembling with fury, “You are the one who came onto me! You are the one that begged me to stay! You don’t get to sit on your high horse and treat me like dirt after you got what you wanted.”

He clenches his jaw, his fists at his side. He is pissed, but I don’t give a fuck.

“I didn’t fuck myself,” I hiss. “So don’t act like I forced you into anything.”

I grab my shoes, slipping them on as tears streak down my face.

“Fuck you, Noah.” I spit, flipping him the middle finger. It was that or hit him again. “And if you ever call me a whore again, I swear I’ll grind your balls into a pulp before shoving them down your fucking throat!”

His eyes blaze with fury, but I don’t care. I won’t let him tear me down. Not again.

I stalk toward the door.

“Oh, and by the way,” I say over my shoulder, “you were a lousy fuck.”

With that, I walk out—shoulders back, chin high. My comeback may be childish, but he isn’t the only one who is allowed to tear someone down. I can give as good as I get.

I rush out of the motel, my heart pounding, my soul cracked wide open, and completely pissed. I should’ve listened to that inner voice. I should’ve known better, but I didn’t, and what’s done is done

Now all I can do is pray I never have to see Noah Woods again.