I don’t sleep at all. Every time I close my eyes, I see her.

Olivia Radcliffe.

“Stop,” I tell myself over and over every time the image of her invades my mind. Rich bitch.

You never should have kissed her.

It was meant to be a spiteful move. A final fuck you to let her know how badly she’d fucked up, but it backfired hard and left me with a stiff dick that I didn’t want to acknowledge or do anything about but finally had to.

Twice.

And even that wasn’t enough.

As I lie in bed, staring at the flecked paint of my bedroom ceiling, I can still feel...