Veils of Rivalry Chapter 20

Blaise's POV

“Kiss me, Cole,” Allie’s voice drifts through the door, and I fist my hands, ear pressed to the wood. “I’ve missed you. Did you miss me?”

I can’t hear Cole’s response, my brows knitting together as I strain to listen. Are they kissing? Does he want her?

I grind my teeth, cursing myself for hovering outside my brother’s bedroom door like a peeping Tom, but my skin crawls at the thought of his girlfriend anywhere near him after the way he looked at me from beneath his heavy lids in the shower. I can’t stop thinking about his soaked hair plastered to his forehead or how the water beaded on his lips, a droplet clinging to the end of his nose while he stroked his hard dick. Fuck me... I’m ruined after seeing him wet and horny, surrounded by steam. The way he stared at me as he pleasured himself, trying to reach a high that seemed far away until I curled my fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t stop me.

I should have stayed away, but I didn’t.

Despite my better judgment, I reach for the door handle, hesitating. What am I doing? Why am I here?

I let my hand fall away, then form a fist. Allie giggles on the other side of the door, and something ugly stirs from deep within. My knuckles turn white as I inhale a steadying breath, feeling my chest expand.

Get yourself together, Blaise.

I slowly uncurl my fingers on an exhale, my heart aching and throbbing.

Fuck this…

Turning on my heel, I drag a trembling hand through my hair. I’m a fucking mess, and my emotions are all over the place after I let a stranger touch me last night. What started as a fun game, a thrill to add a little color to my boring life, soon left me empty and restless.

I’m no closer to figuring out who hides behind that damn mask. Why’s that? Because I got too caught up in the moment.

Fucking weak.

I enter the kitchen and open the fridge, allowing the cool air to clear my head.

Cole didn’t pull away or tell me to fuck off. No, he came almost as soon as I touched him, his wet lips parting with a shuddering breath as cum rained over my wrist.

“Fuck…” I slam the fridge door shut but pause when the landline rings, the shrill tone tensing my shoulders. Who the hell could that be now? Dragging my hand down my face, I blow out a long breath, exhausted and fed up with my internal turmoil.

It rings again, so I cross the room and pick up the phone without checking the caller ID.

Leaning back against the counter, I balance it between my shoulder and ear as I fish my mobile out of my pocket.

“Hello.” I swipe the screen, noting a new message from Tiago.

“Cole? Is that you?” a slurred voice rasps.

I stiffen, looking up as the man in question and his annoying girlfriend enter the room. They stop in the doorway as though they didn’t expect to see me there.

For once, I’m swallowing thickly for a different reason.

A pang of…something throbs behind my ribcage.

“It’s me…your dad. I’ve been thinking…” His words fade into the background when Cole’s eyes clash with mine.

He walks past, his leather scent lingering for long moments. I clench a muscle in my cheek, staring at the expanse of his broad back. His gray T-shirt is stretching over his shoulders, and his combats sit low on his hips, accentuating his toned legs and fine-as-hell⁠—

“I want to see you,” Cole’s dad slurs through the line.

I turn my back and stare out the window, watching Mia pull up outside. After exiting her car, she talks briefly to my dad, who shuts the trunk on the suitcases.

“Cole? Talk to⁠—”

“Wrong number,” I grit out, lowering the phone from my ear and ending the call.

“Who was that?” Allie asks, seated at the table, peeling a mandarin while Cole roots through the fridge.

Placing the phone back in the holder, I tear my gaze away from the window.

Some people peel off small pieces, but not Allie. No, she makes a game out of creating a long spiral. I watch her, feeling Cole’s eyes on me as he shuts the fridge.

Guilt eats me up from the inside despite the overwhelming sense of protectiveness, which has my chest tightening. His father is an asshole who only calls here when he’s drunk. Sometimes, he’s regretful, begging for forgiveness. Other times, he shouts abuse.

I’ve managed to intercept every call, but there will come a day when Cole picks up. I told his mom once, and she changed the number, but it didn’t stop him. Nothing does.

“Mia is here,” I say, pocketing my phone, and Allie cranes her neck to see outside, her face lighting up.

Cole lingers behind when she leaves the room in a cloud of citrus fruit, perfume, and undertones of her boyfriend’s cologne.

I fucking hate his smell on her.

Leaning back against the counter again, I finally lift my gaze, my heart thudding as our eyes clash in a hurricane of unspoken words.

Why does he make me feel this way? I want to blur the lines for him.

I mean, fuck, I sought him out last night, hiding in the shadows of his room, listening to his steady breathing. When he woke up, I felt…relief.

I could finally breathe again.

He speaks first, staring at me from across the table. “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?” I ask, letting my eyes fall down his body and back up, lingering on the veins in his arms and his tense jaw.

How can he have such a chokehold on me? I don’t get it, yet here I am, feeling my heart pound harder while he grinds his teeth. I wonder if he can sense this pull between us or if it’s all in my head. When he looks away, I want those conflicted eyes back on me.

I’m growing addicted to how it hurts when he looks at me with such fury.

“Don’t play games with me.”

“Isn’t that what we do?” I question, and he reluctantly trains his attention back on me. “Play games.”

“You…” he starts, breaking eye contact and shaking his head before raking his fingers through his hair, twisting the strands as though he needs the pricking pain to help him focus. “Don’t fucking touch me again.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

He drops his hand to his side as a look of disgust or anger—maybe both—twists his features. I try so fucking hard not to let him sink the knife deeper into my chest, but I know it’s a lost battle when he looks at me again. I felt numb for so long and lost in a gray world. Then he entered the picture. I’m not numb anymore, not when he cuts me wide open with his tormented gaze.

I never want him to turn away.

He swallows, his voice trembling as he lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

The charged air between us pulsates while we stare at each other.

“Just…” He clears his throat. “Stay the fuck away.”

Then he’s gone, brushing past me, his scent curling around my aching heart like tendrils of ivy. I stare at the empty doorway with my hands in my pockets until I’m forced to blink because my eyes burn.

Turning to face the window, I watch Allie glue herself to his side the moment he walks outside, batting her wispy lashes and looking so fucking happy.

When he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him, I feel sick.

I swing back around before I can do something stupid, like storm outside and haul her off him in front of our parents.

I need her out of the fucking picture.

My eyes catch on the lilies on the kitchen table. Cole’s mom’s pride and joy. Pushing off the counter, I cross the small space and pick up the vase, then hurl it against the fridge. The glass shatters on impact in a spectacular explosion of broken shards and destruction, but the loud crash does nothing to calm me down. If anything, I want more violence. My chest won’t stop aching.