The Best Mistakes (The Amherst Sinners Series Book 3)

by Elena Monroe

In one motion, I dropped my hands to her hips and lifted her up onto the island. She immediately opened her legs to let me between them. I took the opportunity to pull her closer to my groin by grabbing the back of her knees with one quick pull. She gasped like she hadn’t been touched with the same kind of urgency.

  My palms skimmed her skin closest to the hem of her shirt. I couldn’t even tell you what color it was; all I saw was the color called Layla. She was splattered all around me like a masterpiece, contorting my vision.

  Our foreheads touched, and her hands fumbled with my belt and the button on my jeans. My lips fell open, tempting the silence. I couldn’t just have sex with her anymore. I needed her to give me more—to give me all of her.

  “Tell me you don’t love him, Layla. Tell me you’ll be mine.”

  The sound of my zipper being pulled down filled the room, as she nodded her head slowly, softly. I pulled my forehead from hers, needing more than a nod. I needed a damn cage, lock, and key to keep this girl from running away from our love.

  I was all in.

  “Say it, Layla. I need to hear it.”

  I felt her fingertips push up my abs, feeling under my shirt, and stopping at the organ floating underneath my rib cage. “I’ve always been yours. He confused me, but he never made me question how I feel for you.”

  I pulled my shirt off, tossing it on the island she sat on, creating the perfect pedestal, and lining up our sex. She hadn’t removed a piece of clothing before she analyzed my chest, like I might be different somehow. I placed my hands down on the island, boxing her thighs in-between my arms, as I leaned down, letting her plant kisses along my jaw. It didn’t take much when Layla was involved to feel my stiffness push against my boxers.

  She whispered as she kissed down my jaw, past my ear, and all over my neck. “One condition… Jade can’t live with you if we are together. I don’t trust her.”

  I nodded my head, not really hearing her in that moment. Whatever sacrifice she wanted, I was prepared to serve up on a platter.

  I felt my back pockets for my wallet, needing the condom inside it, right before I remembered leaving it on the table in the other room.

  Fuck.

  Executive decision? Fuck the condom. I’ll pull out, nothing was gonna ruin this moment. She scooted off the counter and wedged herself in the small space left by me standing up. Kissing my lips quickly, she pulled away, whispering, “I haven’t done this in a while…” She slid down, becoming eye level with my open pants. I sucked in a hard, short, breath when her hands carefully pulled the band on my boxers down. My cock sprung out, aiming for her mouth already.

  I pushed my hand through her hair that was even more blonde now, no longer golden, but derived of any color at all. I had heard about women making drastic changes when faced with heartache, but never experienced it being because of me, until now. My hand gently coaxed her head forward as her lips wrapped around the tip of my cock, which was now pulsing.

  I watched her lips push down my length so snugly that it rivaled being between her legs. Her mouth was almost just as wet too. Her tongue pushed against my length as she drew her mouth back. She was teasing me, like she didn’t have all of me on a string already.

  I let my head fall backwards, taking in her movements, as my hand stopped guiding her at the pace I liked best. With a pop, she removed her mouth completely, only stopping to look at me with her innocent smile that made me want to defile her even more.

  The urge to take more than her mouth took over quickly as my balls tightened and my release snuck up on me. I felt just as inexperienced as she was, when I took her virginity, her real virginity… that she had freely given away.

  Her tongue tortured me, licking my length furiously, as her lips dragged against me tightly, and her lips nearly pulled off of my length altogether. I looked down at her, knowing if she kept going I was going to come. I went to speak, when I heard a familiar voice behind me almost making me turn around, despite the compromising position.

  “Deja vu, huh?”

  His silky voice was unmistakable: Aspen. Layla’s cheeks turn hot and bright red, letting my hard ridge fall out of her mouth. I pulled my boxers up, covering up my exposed ass and redid my belt again just to be safe. I made sure not to move, keeping her covered, while I spun around.

  “You were drunk… how do you remember that?”

  He laughed into his beer. “Hyde remembers it all. At least she’s paying you back, after all these years.”

  He walked deeper into the kitchen, picked up the dish of potatoes, and walked out without any more words. I waited until he was further away from the frame dividing the kitchen to move. Layla jumped up and broke out into a fit of giggles I couldn’t understand. She transferred them to me when her head pushed against my chest trying to control the fit she was captivated by. I couldn’t help but laugh too.

  We had been caught, and she was the happiest I had seen her in years. Her blue eyes went from a navy sheen to a glassy light blue when she smiled this much. The colors of Layla… I liked every shade, but happy was my favorite.

  A s soon as Oliver decided he had enough of the childish time out he put himself in, I knew I was fucked.

  He was her weakness, and suddenly with the excuse of time in his arsenal, he was a whole new man in her eyes. She was fighting their pull, giving into the nerves, but I saw right through her. She was trying not to be desperate in case he was hiding a rejection in his back pocket.

  Oliver, the Sinner, became Oliver, the Saint.

  I knew what was happening before it even happened, making Addi the perfect dose of distraction. She was blonde; her fake tits screamed “almost real”; her fake tan made her skin sparkle; and those candy apple lips practically had my name written all over them.

  I wasn’t good enough for Liz.

  Layla had always been forever mapped out as Oliver’s—with or without him as her actually boyfriend.

  Jade was temporary, even for me. We were just kindred spirits living similar lives, and when shit got unbearably lonely, we had each other.

  And every other girl didn’t need me to hold them up after bad news poured down on them, like Layla did.

  Love wasn’t on my list of priorities. Being real, after Layla I wasn’t ever going to try to be as available. Those parts of me were curated just for her, and duplicating them seemed impossible.

  Addi’s forward hand landed on my thigh under the table after I watched Layla storm off, nearly crying because of Oliver. When I shifted my gaze to her imperfectly dirty grey eyes, I saw every bitchy part of her melt into concern.

  Addi seemed like an ice queen. Everything about her was cold and borderline white, like snow, but there she was, melting at the news that I hadn’t knocked someone up or lost a baby.

  Her concern was the last thing I wanted. If she wanted to be helpful, then she could start with getting me high, transition to drunk, and give me a happy ending… in whatever hole she wanted. I wasn’t picky. Sitting in the silence, while Oliver ran after Layla wasn’t helping.

  I got up from the table, forcing her hand to slip from my thigh. “Okay, baby Liz, I’m out.”

  Liz actually looked mortified, while Leon just looked confused. I almost pitied him. I knew the feeling. Being outside this group was like being behind a thick piece of plexiglass—hearing and seeing it all, but never being graced with being part of their group—always an outsider.

  Leaning down, I kissed Liz’s temple. “Thanks for dinner, beautiful. I’m out.”

  She smiled at me sweetly, with a similar kind of concern, which I was going to overlook. Liz was good for my ego. She was pregnant and to be married, yet she always looked at me hungry. For that, she took up a small space in my black, dead heart. Her firm grasp around my forearm lifted as I walked away, out of reach to the front door.

  I stood in the hallway for a moment, while I placed a fat joint between my lips and sparked my lighter into shriveling up the end. One inhale already made me feel more dull—less sharp a
nd aware of the actual events unfolding. I headed for the elevator, not wanting to make her neighbors mad if the smell that seeped in under their door. Stepping into the elevator, I pulled out my phone. I don’t even know why I thought there’d be a sorry or an explanation. Without one, my mind was doing somersaults into worst-case scenarios. The most prevailing one was: Layla was no saint.

  She knew it wasn’t mine, let me mourn a lost kid I didn’t truly want, and left me holding the baggage that was his. The thought alone made me want to get into trouble, made me want to break under someone’s fist, or throw mine into someone’s face—anything to feel something more powerful than second best.

  Addi just made the elevator doors, right before they closed. With a sigh and a smile, too pleased she made it, she stood next to me silently. Her v-neck was falling down one arm, and it just occurred to me that the shirt probably wasn’t hers.

  Nothing about her seemed like her own.

  I scrolled through text messages, debating if I wanted to write back at all. Some of them were deliveries, and others were past clients inviting me to parties they were having, as some kind of bonus to the thousands they bled for my favors.

  One particular text seemed like my best option. He was a multi-millionaire with some kind of healthcare startup, but he was my best client. Layla actually came with me on a drop once. He was loud and awkward. Like most people launched into being filthy rich, the price he paid was social graces.

  Addi didn’t have any either, when she stole my joint from between my fingers that had hanging by my waist.

  “You have the best pot.”

  I glared in her direction, watching her bring my joint to her lips and suck in the glorious effects meant to numb my wounds.

  What did this girl have to be sad about? Her perfect fucking body, hair, lips most girls would be jealous over? Well, fuck me, give the ice queen all the pot to help her get through.

  A smile tugged at her lips, only making them look more full. “Don’t look at me with that ‘woe is me’ bullshit. You don’t know me, I’d bring you to your knees with all the sad shit in my life.”

  The way she played the line of cruel words and undisrupted facial expressions made my dick twitch. She was planted somewhere in the middle, mastering both. I was impressed, along with my dick. For once, we were on the same page.

  “Okay, ice queen, don’t go sending people to the guillotine.”

  She smirked, like it was the best idea she had heard all night, and it made me laugh, as I swiped my blunt back. I got off on the main level, breezing through the lobby of the building to valet to get my keys back. She was hard to miss, and I knew she was following behind me, trying to keep up with my long strides. I was determined to ignore her until she made it known that what she was doing was following me.

  Picking a fifty dollar bill from my wallet, I handed it to the kid at the valet stand with the ticket stub that he handed me earlier. He almost jogged around the building to grab my car, and I turned around, feigning being scared when I saw her.

  “Oh, shit. Jesus… I didn’t see you there.”

  She matched my fake response with fake laughter and a not-impressed smile quickly following after. My dick twitched against my zipper again at her ability to dish it out as much as I did. A strong gust of cruel wind couldn’t blow this girl over. She was strong, and by her confession earlier, she was just as damaged I was.

  She wasn’t a damaged girl I needed to help through life, to protect, to become responsible for. She was an equal.

  The valet attendant handed me my keys back, and I stepped off the curb, leaving my joint and Addi on the sidewalk. I opened the door to my matte black mustang that had been with me since high school and that I had no plans to give up or trade in. Love was unconditional, and she was my first real love. The rest of the conditions of love could be broken; the exact way I broke every other rule.

  The engine made the throaty purr I loved and distracted me long enough for Addi to have time to pull open the door and snake her way into the passenger seat. I knew she didn’t come with my car as a parting gift for using the valet service, but she sat there silently looking out the window and sucking on the end of my joint. She was hard to get rid of.

  “Why did you have so much cash on you?”

  I looked at her, still not attempting to move my car, “I don’t accept cards.” I didn’t bother explaining why or what I did, thinking it was obvious now. She got even more comfortable when she put her feet on the dash, and it set off alarms. She was violating Camille, and no one violated my first love.

  “Get your feet off my dash. No one puts Camille in the corner.”

  She looked at me, shocked, with her mouth open, as she sat up straight and closed the gap by leaning over the center console. Her lips attacked mine without any warning, but I let her violate me, because I was gonna violate her one day and more than some middle school kiss. She pulled her lips away, with her hand still keeping my chin still, as she spoke into me: “That’s the last time I wanna hear you say another girl’s name.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was kidding. Hell, my whole body was stiff and in some kind of trance, like her candy apple lips were poison and I was her latest victim.

  “I’m going to a party. Kind of a work thing.”

  She sat back again, in her own seat, with her poison lips and cunning smirk. She waved a hand forward in a silent “go ahead”. I stared at her long and hard before I pulled away from the curb finally. She didn’t know what she was getting into and how deep the water really was. This would be a lesson in swimming.

  His penthouse was in the same place it had been for the past six years, seemingly unchanged, except the décor every few years to a completely different taste. I assumed that’s how he became so dependent on my deliveries: being scared to pick a version of himself. I grew up around the recognizable sensation. I didn’t have personal experience, but not knowing yourself seemed like a new kind of hell.

  There were people scattered in every direction of his loft layout. Most of them were on a dance floor near the DJ, and the rest were lounging around, clearly high. Addi followed closely behind, taking inventory.

  I found my client in seconds, in the kitchen, doing shots with tall beauties I’m sure we’re models. Their eyes darted past me and remained on Addi. I slung my arm around her neck and drug her into my side, taking the pressure off and easing some of their judgment.

  Brent bumped his fist with mine, before wagging his brows in code. I needed a reason to whisper to Addi, so I pretended to kiss her head.

  “Just stay cool.”

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out a small bag of pills—a variety pack that I kept in the palm of my hand as his slapped against the other side of the bag in a concealed hand off. He was smiling so big it made me uncomfortable. He tilted his head pushing it to steer my attention and lead me in that direction. Still dragging Addi with me, I followed him to his bedroom. He closed the door behind us and left his harem of models on the other side. He opened the closet door, where he kept his safe and plucked a stack of money out—my fee for his personality pills.

  Tucking the money into my jacket, I shouted to him as he walked out, “Cool if I use the room?”

  Brent’s laugh was even devoid of personality, dry and bare. As soon as the door closed, I stood in front of Baby Liz, purposely blocking the exit.

  “You good?”

  She sprawled out on his bed, limbs reaching like a snow angel on his white comforter. “Well, that explains a lot. He’s so weird. How many people do you think he actually knows out there?”

  I couldn’t hold in the laugh that came to a boil inside me. She took every thought I had and put a bitchy tone to it. She really was an ice queen, with poisonous candy apple lips, and every part of me was turned on by her—even parts of me I had removed from the equation, when desire, that elusive bitch, had fucked me over.

  I woke for the first time in six years without an overwhelming ache in my chest that I c
ouldn’t seem to explain or get over. There was still room for some doubt, but seeing Oliver’s bare chest and arm pushed above his head was pure comfort.

  It was one of the rarities, waking up to a sleeping Oliver. It had only happened a couple of times; he had usually fallen asleep reading in a chair instead of in bed. He looked so peaceful sleeping. It was a good change.

  Before I stepped out of bed, my eyes darted over my floor, looking for any kind of shirt when I snatched up whatever was closest to the edge. His black, work, and even holey shirt still smelled like him, mixed with a faint smell of cigarettes. I slipped into it, standing up and letting it fall mid-thigh, not bothering to find my panties from last night. My phone screen illuminated in my dimly-lit room, all thanks to the heavy curtains doing their job. I quickly nabbed it before it buzzed against my nightstand. I didn’t want to wake him. With him having Arson, I assumed that sleep came even more difficultly now.

  Liz: Let me guess, you’re thankful for Oliver’s dick. We skipped your turn last night.

  Hunter: We should talk. Let me know when boy wonder leaves.

  Maddison: Staying at Aspen’s. Don’t wait up!

  Hunter’s text made me swallow hard, even though my throat felt dry and tart. I should have never let him assume it was his. I never even planned to tell him in the first place, but when he saw the pregnancy test in my trash can, it became his focus. I saw his gray eyes beam at the possibility of being a dad, and it made it even harder to come clean, to kill what hope he had left of me being his. It would have been a slap in the face after all he had done for me in Oliver’s absence.

  We were stuck in routine, in avoiding labels, and everything became a mess that neither of us wanted to clean up. We spray painted all over traditional brick to become what we did.

  None of what we were changed how much I couldn’t let go of Oliver. My heart, even some of my soul, were taken hostage the moment he asked if I was stalking him. In some way, my heart was.

  I brushed the sour taste out of my mouth and turned the knob, as the water rained down on the shower tile. I waited for it to be scalding hot, taking my time, folding his shirt and carefully placing it on the counter.