Chapter 24: Morning After the Nothing
Kelvin
My head was pounding, mouth dry, and my dick… still hard.
I cracked one eye open, blinking against the morning sun filtering through my penthouse windows. There was a naked woman asleep on her stomach beside me, one leg thrown over mine like she belonged here.
She didn't.
I stared at the ceiling for a long second, waiting for the guilt to crash in. It didn't. What hit instead was a dull, familiar ache. Not regret over what I did just disappointment over what I still felt.
Which was nothing.
Except hard.
Seriously?
I shoved a hand through my hair and exhaled sharply, trying to remember the girl's name. Something with an L, maybe? Lindsay? Lila? I remembered the way her moans echoed in the living room. I remembered her mouth. Her nails. Her laugh at the bar.
But her name?
Nope.
I shifted, slipping out from under her leg, and grabbed my briefs from the floor. My dick twitched uselessly, stupidly as I stood, because it wasn't her I wanted. It wasn't last night's warm, naked body that kept me up.
It was Anna's kiss. Still there. Branded on my skin like a sin I couldn't wash off.
I pulled on my joggers, walked into the kitchen, and downed a glass of cold water in one gulp. Then, like a responsible adult pretending he wasn't spiraling, I made coffee.
She padded in five minutes later, wrapped in my bedsheet like she was auditioning for something.
"Morning," she purred, stretching just enough to show she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Hey." I nodded, sliding a mug across the island. "You take sugar?"
"Black is fine." She smiled, accepting the mug and leaning on the counter like we were having brunch.
I sipped mine slowly. "So… I realized something this morning."
"What's that?" she asked, playfully curious.
"I don't think you ever told me your name."
She blinked, laughed a little. "I didn't."
I raised a brow. "Wanna fix that?"
"Camille," she said, and winked. "I figured names weren't important last night."
Fair.
I gave her a lopsided smile. "Well, Camille, I'd ask for your number now. Just in case."
She raised her brow. "In case what?"
"In case I want to call you."
"Do you?"
I hesitated for one beat too long.
She noticed.
But she still gave me her number. I typed it into my phone, saving it under Camille (Bar). No emojis. No heart. Just the kind of name you forget two weeks later and pretend it's someone from payroll.
"Thanks for last night," I said finally, walking her to the door.
She smiled, kissed my cheek lightly, and walked out with no expectations.
The second the door clicked shut, I leaned against it, eyes closed, exhaling through gritted teeth.
I had a beautiful woman in my bed last night. I should've been fine.
Instead, my chest was still twisted in knots… and my dick was still half-hard, like it hadn't gotten what it really wanted.
Not her lips. Not her curves.
Anna.
God help me, I was still hard for the woman who tore me apart five years ago… and now worked under my name.
And she didn't even know it.