Page 14 of Don’t Let Him In

Then they stagger inside, laughing over each other while the storm rushes in behind them, wind curling through the house before the door swings shut against an icy draft.

My attention snags on the girl tucked against Dax’s side. Teal streaks spliced through her dark hair catch faintly in the moonlight filtering in from one of the broken windows, as rainwater glistens against her bare legs below the frayed hem of a denim skirt.

My exposed neckline prickles despite the threadbare blanket draped over my shoulders. The stiff, cold material makes my skin crawl, and I fight the urge to shove it aside.

Dax’s heavy-lidded gaze slides over her, a gut-churning smile flitting across the face I once adored as his hand slides possessively along the back of her thigh, pulling her tighter against him.

Nausea rolls through me, my eyes falling to the battered floorboards as I try to steady myself against the humiliation wedging itself deeper inside me. But there is no escaping this.

I tense, anticipating the moment either his or her eyes land on us, but they’re so consumed with each other they hardly notice us in the corner, shadowed beneath the side rail of the stairs.

Their heavy breaths ricochet off the thin walls, drowning out the storm raging beyond the house. Every muffled giggle and intimate sound grates against my nerves until I can hardly take it anymore.

When he closes in on her, their lips crash into each other, messy and frantic, her back arching into his touch with an obnoxious moan.

“Blair,” he groans, his mouth trailing along her throat as his hand encircles her waist, not a trace of guilt anywhere on his face.

Unconsciously, I tug at the hem of my shirt, my lips trembling as I fight to keep it together, too afraid to make a sound.

My eyes flick to the narrow space in front of me, transfixed on the rusted nails in the floorboard. They turn into messy, dark blots in my vision. Shame and anger encroach on my bruised ego, leaving me painfully aware of Manson looming beside me in the dark. Fingers dig into my palms until the crescents I’ve carved are all I can focus on.

Muddy footprints smear across the floor as the wet squeak of shoes shifts ahead, followed by a sharp intake of breath. My gaze snaps up just in time to catch her peeling back from Dax, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “No, you don’t,” she tsks, her voice pitched to a low, mature rasp. “You know the rules.”

Droplets cling to the dark scruff dusting his jaw as Blair’s name leaves his mouth again with a near-trancelike reverence.

Their voices blur together in my ears as my arms shake and I tighten my fists, grinding my teeth to suppress the accusation pressing heavily on my tongue. Unsure of what to do, I just linger in my spot, wondering if I’m stuck in some sort of hellish nightmare.

His gaze skims over her face, pausing at the outline of her crimson-painted lips before a quiet groan slips from him. “You’re killing me, babe.”

Babe.

The word curdles in my stomach.

Pressing forward again, she hooks his wrists gently and guides his hands over his eyes, leaning in close enough for her whisper to brush his ear. “Count. Then come find me.”

Dax lets out a rough sound, his words croaking as he chases another kiss, but she slips away with a husky giggle.

“God, I fucking love you,” he croons, his brows pinching inward in a pout that makes my toes curl in my boots while she eases away from him. The scent of coconut shampoo wafts over as the back of her heel nudges the shadowed bottom step where Manson and I remain tucked out of sight.

Indecision keeps me pinned in place.

This is it. She’s going to turn around and spot us before I can decide what the hell I’m supposed to do.

There’s no hiding now.

Thunder rolls somewhere overhead, rattling faintly through the walls. My shoulders hitch, the blanket slipping from them to pool around my feet, the movement catching Blair’s attention.

My throat tightens painfully.

Amber eyes narrow in the darkness, lingering in my direction before her scrutiny veers toward the dust-covered table nearby.

Uninterested, she swings back around, her gaze sliding higher instead. Something playful flashes across her face the second she notices the staircase looming above. Sliding her tongue over her teeth, she pivots toward Dax. “No peeking,” she reminds him before disappearing farther upstairs, the old wood creaking softly under her steps.

Feeling provoked, I swallow down the bitterness coating my mouth, irritation festering deeper the longer I stare at the spot she previously occupied. Dax is the one who betrayed me, so why am I the one shrinking out of sight?

Fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, twisting it taut as the familiar sting of tears gathers behind my eyes. I don’t let them fall.

Not with Manson right behind me.