Chapter 1

Tristen

18 months ago…

All my friends are liars.

Torture fucking sucks.

Maybe it's because I'm on the receiving end, but I think I'd rather have all my fingernails ripped out than spend another night like this—pathetically obsessing over something I'll never have.

The whiskey burns, its smoky heat igniting my veins as I stare out the window into the darkened house next door. Waverly’s window is black, but that doesn’t stop my gaze from seeking it out.

See?

Goddamn torture and not the fun kind.

I must be a fucking masochist.

This is nothing new. It's been this way for months. Years. It never gets any easier wanting what you can't have. My fingers curl into a fist at my side, nails biting into my palm. How many times have I stood here, craving a glimpse of her perky little body behind the glass as she changes for bed? How many times have I prayed to every demon in existence for one glance? For the girl next door to have forgotten to close her curtains so I can drink her in, see her in a way no one else can?

I grind my teeth, fighting the surge of lust and something darker, more possessive, welling inside me.

The darkened bedroom across the way belongs to my daughter's best friend and the source of every mental picture in my spank bank.

There's so much happening in my life right now, even if I could get past all the other reasons I shouldn't touch Waverly Rochester, there's still the tiny issue of my marriage. Not that I give a fuck about my wife, but Erika's a vindictive cunt at the best of times and the fact the ATF showed up at my door the last time I tried to force a divorce isn't helping.

Now I've got them breathing down my goddamn neck and I can't drag an innocent girl into my shit, even if my dick gets hard at just the thought of her.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand down my face, trying to focus on anything else but I already know it's hopeless. It always is when it comes to her.

Waverly’s been under my skin for years. She's so fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at her sometimes, but I can't seem to stop.

At this point, I've almost come to crave the pain of not having her.

If only Fallon still lived here and had sleepovers, I could sneak into her room while the girls are sleeping and stare at Waverly like a the goddamn pervert I am instead of resorting to this—binoculars pointed at her bedroom window when I know she's not even home.

No, she's here, one floor down at my daughter's birthday party, probably lighting up the whole room with that fucking smile that claws its way into my chest and shreds my heart every time I see it.

As I drop the binoculars, my fingers tighten around my drink—a double-edged sword that burns and soothes in equal measure. I take another sip and the fire in my throat mirrors the agony that's tormented me for nearly two years.

Two long, torturous years.

But she was too young, and I refused to indulge in my depraved cravings. Tonight, though...

Tonight my resolve is being tested.

Maybe it's my own daughter becoming an adult today. Or maybe I'm on the wrong side of buzzed.

Either way, I'm fucked up.

Downstairs, Fallon's party rages on, the pounding bass shaking the floor beneath my feet. Yet here I stand, staring out into the night, trying to forget the way Waverly's eyes met mine from across the party, neon blue flames that seared my restraint to ashes.

Like a coward, I ran.

She doesn't know I watch her, but the best I can hope for tonight is a private show. Sometimes she dances alone in her room, her smile lighting me up in ways I can’t explain. Sometimes she writes in her journal, this cute wrinkle between her eyebrows as she bites the end of her pen. Sometimes she strips and crawls into a bed I wish included me. 

And sometimes, I get lucky. Maybe tonight will be one of those nights. Maybe she'll leave the party early, strip down, and...

I growl, fisting my hair and pulling until it hurts.

What the fuck am I doing?

I ask myself this question every day because I have no right to these feelings. None.

But I'm also entirely obsessed with my daughter's best friend.

It's toxic.

I'm toxic when it comes to her.

The way I want her isn't healthy. It's a fucked up, possessive tangle of feelings I'd do anything to get rid of but knowing I never will.

I close my eyes as I breathe through the urge to hunt her down. Claim what's mine.

Because make no mistake about it—Waverly Rochester's always been mine.

But I can’t. I won’t destroy her.

She’s everything good in this world. Pure sunshine. Happiness in a perfect package.

I take another deep breath and turn away from the window, draining the rest of my drink and dropping the glass on the bedside table. I know I need to go back downstairs to the party, but I’m stalling. I study my hand, noticing a tiny grease spot I didn’t get from under my nail earlier when I scrubbed them in the garage before the party.

After I deal with it, I turn off the bathroom light and brace myself. I know I’m going to see her but I don’t know what I’ll do when our eyes inevitably lock again, because I know this isn’t one-sided. 

I know she wants me, too.

When I bolster my defenses and finally step out of my room into the dark hall, Waverly's coming out of Fallon's bedroom at the same time.

Fuck.

She looks up and our eyes meet, her bright blues widening in surprise before she gives me one of her heart-shredding smiles.

My heart pounds, my dick already to half-mast anticipating something that it’s not going to get as I force myself to keep walking. She's wearing a tight little dress that makes me want to mark every inch of bare skin with my teeth, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

I bite back a groan when her sweet scent hits me and my mouth waters. Goddamnit.

"Tristen," she calls, her voice soft and husky as it wraps around my cock like a fist. "Wait."

I tense, hands curling into fists at my sides as I turn to face her. She's so fucking beautiful, I get another hit of agony just looking at her. Her blonde curls are piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Her eyes are bright and wide, her cheeks flushed pink from the party downstairs.

I swallow hard, trying not to stare at the way her dress hugs her curves, but it's impossible. She's fucking perfection and she doesn't even know it.

It's dark, but the moonlight pouring out of Fallon's open door behind her lights up her blonde curls and makes her look like an angel.

The angel of death because before this is over, she might just kill me.

"What’s up?" I ask, my voice flat as I force myself to keep my expression blank, to not reveal how fucking obsessed with her I've been for the last seven hundred and thirty-plus days.

17,520 hours.

1,051,200 minutes.

Every one of them belonged to her.

She bites her lip, a nervous habit that makes me want to sink my teeth into her flesh and mark her as mine. "I…” She takes breath so deep, I feel her exhale on my skin. “I was wondering if we could talk."

Fuck no.

I can't let myself get sucked in. I need to keep my distance to keep her safe, but it's impossible when she looks at me like that.

Like she wants me.

Like she needs me.

"About what?" I ask, my voice low and gruff, harsh even, as I try to ignore the way she's looking at me and how it’s making my dick hard and my head dizzy.

Her eyes dart to my bedroom door and then back to mine, her cheeks flushing pinker as she steps closer. "It's... personal."

Fuck.

Fuckinggoddamnitshit.

My heart pounds in my chest, my cock throbbing in my pants as I fight the urge to drag her into my room and make her mine.

But I can't.

I won't.

Not with Erika downstairs, waiting for me to fuck up so she can destroy everything I've worked for.

So I force myself to turn away, ignoring the way Waverly's eyes dim with hurt. The way knowing I put that look there fractures something inside my chest.

"Please."

The quiet word in her innocent voice ruins me.

It crumbles every defense like a castle made of sand.

And I'm fucking drowning in her.

She's too young and I'm too broken, but it doesn't stop me from grabbing her hand and dragging her into my room, slamming the door behind us and pinning her against it with a growl.

We both know she doesn’t really want to talk, not with the way we’ve been circling each other for months. Years. What could she possibly have to say to me at midnight in the dark hallway outside my bedroom?

My self-control is gone, obliterated by the need to taste her.

Our lips meet violently and she opens for me without hesitation, her pretty pink lipstick smearing across my mouth. I groan as her teeth bite into my lip and draw blood. It's not a sweet kiss. No, it's desperate and drugging, and I think I might be high on something dark and forbidden.

Or maybe it's just the taste of her.

She moans as my tongue sweeps inside her mouth, tangling with hers as I lose myself in her pure, addictive flavor.

Her body arches into mine as I grab a handful of her ass and grind my aching cock against her. She's so fucking perfect. So goddamn beautiful that it hurts. And I want to make her fall so damn bad, to make it so she sees no one but me. So her soul is so entwined with mine, she’ll never be whole again without me.

To make myself the center of her world.

I'll only have a taste, and then I'll let her go. Send her on her way safe from the very real threats hanging over my head like a goddamn noose.

"Don’t stop," she gasps again when we finally break apart, both of us panting and desperate for more. Her fingers are in my hair with a tight grip so I can’t move away. "I want you. I've wanted you for so long."

At her words, I light the fuck up inside. This moment may annihilate me but knowing the taste of her is worth the devastation.

I reach up and pull her hair free of its tie, and her apple-scented curls fall around her face. One of my hands tangles in her silky hair, tilting her head so I can devour her exactly the way I want. The way I've imagined while I'm jacking off to thoughts of the way she'd taste and how she'd sound screaming my name.

This is so reckless but I’m unhinged. Given in fully to temptation. Punched my first-class ticket straight to hell.

There'll be no stopping this now.

Not when she's rubbing the full length of her body against me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she moans into my mouth like a goddamn porn star.

I reach down, letting my fingertips drag up the smooth skin of her thigh until I can cup her pussy over her panties. My cock jerks when I get a feel of how wet she is, soaking through the fabric. She's dripping for me and it makes me want to fuck her right here against the door. To make her scream so loud the whole damn house can hear it.

But I can't.

No matter how bad I want the whole damn world to know what's about to happen between us, I can't risk Erika or anyone else finding out. Waverly's my weakness, and if anyone knew, they'd destroy her to watch me fall to ruin.

So instead, I lift her into my arms and carry her to my bed, laying her down on the dark sheets and staring down at her. I've imagined this moment so many times, but my perverse fantasies had nothing on the real thing. I can't tear my gaze away as she stares up at me, the moonlight catching those blue eyes and how they burn for me.

I crawl onto the bed, hovering over her body and caging her in with my arms. "You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her throat

She moans as she surrenders to me and this cataclysm between us.

Her hands come up to clutch at my shoulders as her nails dig into the skin under my shirt. I hope she draws blood. I hope she leaves scars so neither of us can deny this moment was real, that it happened.

I groan as I memorize the taste of her skin, sucking and biting until I know she'll be covered in marks by morning. Right now, I can't seem to stop even though I know I shouldn't. That keeping this moment hidden in the shadows of midnight is the only way to protect her.

We break apart, chests heaving. Her lips are kiss-swollen, eyes glazed as if she's as high on me as I am her.

“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” I promise, my voice a low rasp. I don't even recognize it.

I nip at her pulse point and she cries out, clawing at my back as if she wants to get closer, but there's already no space between us. There's not even room for air.

This is the way it should always be.

“I only want you,” she gasps.

Triumph surges through my veins, white-hot and primal. I already knew this, but hearing it from her is everything. I press my mouth to hers again because I can't get enough of her sweet, forbidden taste, like the apple in Eden.

Her hands slide down my chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt until she can shove it off my shoulders. She runs her palms over the hard planes of my stomach, tracing the ridges and valleys as she moans into our kiss.

We're fucking with our mouths, and my cock is so hard it hurts. I'm going to die if I don't get inside of her.

"Please," she begs, her hips bucking up against mine as she rubs herself on my cock. It's still in my pants, but there's a good chance it's about to rip straight through the wool of my tailored Tom Ford pants. "I need you, Tristen. Please. Please fuck me."

I shove her dress up, rubbing myself against her cunt, dry humping the everloving fuck out of her like I'm a teenager again. I can't stop kissing her and she's kissing me back as if she'll never get the chance to do it again.

As if the world will turn to ash if her lips separate from mine for even a fraction of a second.

She's the oxygen I need to survive; the air in my lungs is the same air that was just in hers..

I pin her wrists above her head, grinding my hips between her thighs. The heat of her sweet cunt tests the limits of my patience.

I've gone insane and feral and I'm so fucked up over this girl.

A broken moan spills from her lips and I swallow it, thrusting my tongue deep into her mouth.

Her fingers grip my hair, pulling me up to meet her gaze. Blue eyes, bright as the sky after a storm, lock onto mine and hold me captive. "What are you waiting for?"

I chuckle. "It's cute you think you have any control over what happens tonight."

She growls, this cute little sound of frustration, and bucks her hips up in a desperate attempt to make me do what she wants, but it backfires. Instead, the rub of her pussy along my dick again turns her annoyance into a moan as her eyes roll back.

"The things I'm going to do to you..." I run my nose along her neck, breathing her in. Already, the smell of me is imprinted on her skin.

“So do them,” she gasps, writhing beneath me. "I’ve been waiting so long."

She stares at me through lust-drunk eyes, begging me with only a look to make her come. To shatter her reality as she knows it. To destroy her in the very best way.

I grin against her skin, a wolfish baring of teeth. “Not yet, my sweet ruin. I've waited too fucking long for this. I'm gonna take my time.”