Perfect Regret (ARC)

“And you just have to be an annoying assmunch, don’t you? Why do I get the feeling I’m being punished for something? If I’ve upset your sad excuse for male pride, please let me know,” I said just as hatefully.

Garrett took a step forward and I moved back, pressing myself into Jordan’s truck door. “If I wanted to punish you, Riley, I’d put you over my knee and spank the shit out of you. A red ass is the least of what you deserve,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes which had been coldly observing me, had turned hot enough to burn.

“What I deserve? I’m not the one who took advantage of drunk girl in a state of total vulnerability. The whole thing is predatory. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I said fiercely. My words seemed to shock Garrett because he stopped his slow advancement, his face blanking.

“Is that what you think? That I took advantage of you?” he asked softly and I knew the idea that I actually thought that hurt him. Hurt him deeply and that softened the hard layer around my heart just a smidge.

Garrett pushed his messy hair back off his forehead in a gesture I was coming to find meant he was flustered. “Shit, Riley. I was drunk. You were drunk. It happened. I never meant to take advantage of you. I just thought” he stopped abruptly and I knew that I needed to hear what he was going to say.



“Thought what?” I demanded, my tone leaving no room for refusal.

Garrett looked at the ground and I found his sudden unsurety disconcerting. Garrett was a confident guy. This person in front of me was decidedly uncertain.

“I don’t know. I thought you wanted to be with me. What a fucking joke that was. I should have fucking known better,” he laughed bitterly and bent to pick up his guitar case. His shoulders were tense and he wouldn’t look at me. Somehow, someway I had laid this man low and I felt an immeasurable amount of guilt about it.

“Come home with me,” I said and I wanted to bite my tongue. Where the hell had that come from? What was wrong with me? This was so not what I needed. This was not good for me in any way. But right now, this is what I wanted and that trumped any sense I had of adhering to my status quo.

I knew that my friend wanted him. That she was making a play for the very guy I was proposing to come home and knock boots with. Where was my sense of loyalty and friends before hos or whatever? I was being a slut. But I wanted this man to make me dirty.

Garrett’s head snapped up in total shock. “Excuse me?” he asked, staring at me as though I had been speaking gibberish. Oh god, I wish I had been speaking gibberish. Because I couldn’t take it back now. And that sick, masochistic, seriously deluded side of me didn’t want to. Because it had officially taken me over. There was no other explanation for the complete personality transplant I was experiencing.

All I knew was that he had touched a nerve. His earlier admission exposed a side of him I would never have thought existed and it struck a chord in me. He was again that boy in his living room, telling me I was beautiful.

I wanted him. Tonight. And I couldn’t think beyond that. The implications of my choice would have to wait for another day. Because something else was guiding my decisions right now. And it wasn’t my head.



I stepped into his personal space, not touching him, but close enough that I could if I wanted to. “Come home with me. Just one more night. I want to know if throwing away my morals was worth it,” I said wishing the words had sounded a little less prudish. But whatever, I sort of was a prude.

Garrett laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Are you serious?” he asked after quieting down.

“As a heart attack,” I replied. Part of me knew he could reject me outright and make me look like a complete and total ass. But staring into his blue eyes I knew he wouldn’t. He wanted this, whatever it was, as much as I did.

He pulled out his keys and nodded his head in the direction of his van. “Come on then,” he said. He didn’t take my hand. He didn’t say another word, just headed to his vehicle, leaving me the choice to follow him or not.

You bet I followed him.



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