Page 102 of Pulse Zero
Sorry, Lane.
I turn my head away from the camera to hide my grimace. That nearly ruined everything, and I have to stroke myself a little harder to keep my dick from going soft.
It’s not that Harrison isn’t attractive. Like Reese, he’s walking sin. But…he’snotReese. That and I’m not in the business of trying to steal another man’s man. Besides, Lane might not kill me for trying, but Harrison would.
Okay. Pivot.
Reese.
And just like that, my cock leaks more precum. Apparently, that’s all it takes now. Just his fucking name in my head, and my dignity is gone. Pavlov’s dog but make it horny.
When it’s his face silently swimming through my mind, my balls get tight. My palm rubs harshly against my chest before moving up, my hand wrapping around my throat. I squeeze, just enough to make everything fuzzy around the edges. I imagine it’shishands on me, stroking my cock, choking me.
Then I imagine there’s his handsandmore…
My whole body tightens without warning. The orgasm breaks through me, abrupt and intense. Tension snaps as a rough, unfiltered sound leaves my mouth.
Reese would hate how quickly I made myself come, but fuck him. I’ll defy him any chance I get.
Both my hands ease their grips, leaving me breathing hard, my head lying back on the cushion, eyes closed. It’s all I can do to piece myself back together as quickly as possible. And even as I scramble to pick my shirt up off the floor and clean up the messI made, it doesn’t feel fast enough.
I stand to my feet, exhaustion catching up now that the adrenaline and arousal have burned off. My limbs feel heavy again, my legs resisting as I take a step toward the bookshelf.
Finally pushing my glasses up my nose, I stare into the camera, really looking at it this time, as though I’m peering right through it, to him. Then I let my expression settle into something firm and determined. Final.
“That’s the last time you get to see me,” I say quietly but loud enough for him to hear. “I’m over it.”
Over you.
The words settle in the air between us, between me and a lens and the man I wish I could pretend isn’t on the other side of it.
The lie tastes bitter, clinging to the back of my tongue, like my body knows better even if my mouth doesn’t. For a second, only one, I almost take it back. Almost laugh it off, deflect, make a joke like I always do when something gets too real.
But I don’t.
Instead, I hold his gaze through the camera, jaw tight, shoulders squared, forcing myself to sit in it. To let itstick. Because if I say it enough, if I wear it like armor long enough, maybe it’ll start to feel true.
It doesn’t.
Notyet.
My eyes drift shut. Behind them is a room in a lab that doesn’t exist yet, not to me. Bright lights. Cold metal. A countdown that hasn’t started but I can already feel ticking somewhere deep in my chest.
Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe whatever happens in that space—whatever misfires, whatever rewires, whateversnaps—it’ll take this with it. I need him burned out of me like a bad circuit, every trace of him wiped from my head, from my nerves,from whatever part of me that keeps reaching for him even when I know better.
A reset.
A clean slate.
The weekend. I can make it through. And then…
Maybe I’ll come back different.
Maybe I’ll come backfree.
Six years ago.
I’ve killed people inworse places than this.
