Fall: A Seaside Novel (The Seaside Series) by Van Dyken Rachel

Author:Van Dyken, Rachel [Van Dyken, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: seaside, rock star, Contemporary Romance, new adult
Publisher: Rachel Van Dyken
Published: 2014-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jaymeson

I laid down in one of the six guest bedrooms and stared up at the ceiling. No chance in hell was I actually going to sleep.

Had I known a few months ago that I’d actually choose to undress a girl and then leave her alone in my bed without doing anything — even kissing her? I would have laughed my ass off.

My old self was gone.

I don’t even know how it happened.

Every time I tried to put the wall up or conjure up the desire to sleep around or drown myself in another girl…

I saw her face.

I felt raw, exposed, weak. Dammit! I flipped the pillow over and stared at the window as moonlight trickled in. My body was on freaking fire and I knew that even if I took a cold shower — all it would do would be alleviate me temporarily.

Licking my lips, I tried to concentrate on the wall. Right. That’s how far I’d fallen. I was staring at a wall and actually contemplating if counting sheep was a good way to fall asleep?

“One, two, three…” My whisper sounded so lame. I decided to count donkeys, because in my mind that seemed more badass — pun intended — than counting something fluffy.

“Four, five, sex…” Bloody hell.

With a grunt, I threw off the covers and walked out of the room and down the hall into the kitchen.

Tea.

Tea was the answer. I was British after all. Right? Right. You know you’re losing it when you’re actually asking yourself questions and hoping that your self will answer in the affirmative.

I tried to be quiet as I set the kettle on the stove and searched for a mug. I didn’t want to turn the light on because I figured it would trickle into the master bedroom, and I didn’t want to wake up the angel.

My hand hovered over the mug.

Since when did I start referring to her as an angel?

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cabinet.

“Are you alright?” A voice jolted me out of my hell.

“Shit!” The cup tipped off the table; I barely caught it with my left hand. Heart racing, I glared at Pris. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Mugs don’t kill. Guns do.” She grinned.

“Cute, you should put that on a t-shirt,” I mumbled.

“Maybe I will.” Her voice was light, teasing. Why the hell wasn’t she in bed?

Bed. Bed. Bed. Sex. Shit. Bloody. Freaking. Hell.

My eyes scanned her half-naked body. She was wearing my boxers. Mine. Something that had once been against my skin was now touching hers. I’d probably never wash those boxers, I’d still be eighty and sleeping with them under my pillow telling myself that I made the right choice in leaving her behind, in keeping my heart closed in a cage where it belonged.

“Are you okay?” Pris took a tentative step toward me, her hand reaching out, making a beeline for my arm.

Her fingers grazed my skin.

I jerked back. “Uh, yeah.” Laughing, I grabbed an extra cup. “I just couldn’t fall asleep so I thought I’d make some tea.

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