Jayce’s bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Just enough to wreck my world.
I opened it, and time shattered into a thousand brittle shards, each one sharper than the next.
There, nestled between the sheets we’d shared chaste kisses between us on during movie nights, lay Jayce. My Jayce. His perfectly sculpted back muscles flexing, his hands gripping...
"Oh, God Jayce please right there don't stop—"
The voice sent bile up my throat.
Scarlett.
My stepsister Scarlett, her long auburn hair spread across Jayce’s pillows, and her nails perfectly manicured, raked down his back as he pounded against her in a way I’d never seen him show me. Her legs were slicked around his waist, and the little designer dress she’d shared at breakfast this morning was lying on the bedroom floor with his clothes.
"Feels so much better than her." Jayce groaned, sounding as if he had a mouthful of pleasure.
"Brook's so... So boring. But you, Scarlett … damn, you’re amazing.”
And the words hit me like blows.