66 Regrets

Olivia’s POV

Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? Letting Lennox touch me? With panting breath and anger-filled eyes, I stared at Lennox, who was staring back—only his gaze was blank. Quickly, I covered myself with the blanket and looked him straight in the eyes. “We are going to pretend this never happened, Lennox,” I said quickly. “I don’t want anyone to know, especially your brothers.” I warned, and Lennox frowned.

His jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing. “And who the fuck said I wanted them to know?” he snapped.

My frown deepened. “I’m the one supposed to be telling you this! That’s supposed to be my line,” he said angrily, and my anger intensified.

“Get out,” I ordered, pointing at the door.

But Lennox didn’t move. Rather, he kept staring at me with panting breath, like he was seconds away from reaching for me. I frowned. “Get out, Alpha Lennox, or else I will scream and draw the attention of your brothers. I believe you wouldn’t want them to know what just happened between us?” I threatened.

Lennox didn’t look bothered by my threats, but he only growled before storming out of my room and slamming the door shut.

I let out a shaky breath the moment the door slammed behind him. My hands trembled as I clutched the blanket tighter around my naked body. “Stupid, Olivia. Stupid,” I hissed at myself, dragging a hand through my tangled hair.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This couldn’t happen. My cheeks flamed with both anger and humiliation as flashes of what had just happened invaded my mind. His hands—his mouth—his voice growling my name like I belonged to him. I buried my face in my hands, letting out a muffled scream.

Why the fuck did I let it get this far? No—scratch that. Why the fuck did I even start touching myself in the first place?

60 Regrets

God, if I hadn’t been so fucking horny, if I hadn’t let my body betray me, if I had just gone to sleep—he wouldn’t have caught me like that. Sprawled out like a desperate mess. Moaning like a bitch in heat.

I cursed again, my throat burning. “Fuck! What is wrong with me?” The shame curled hot and tight in my chest as I paced the room like a caged animal. My legs were still shaking from the aftershocks. My skin still tingled from where his mouth had touched me. I could still feel the ghost of his teeth dragging along my inner thigh.

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. This wasn’t just a mistake. This was a goddamn catastrophe. I should’ve slapped him. I should’ve kicked him out the second he walked in and saw me like that. But no—I froze. And then I melted. Like a fucking idiot.

“Never again,” I whispered to myself, gripping the headboard for support. “This never happened. It didn’t happen. It didn’t fucking happen.” But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache between my legs and the scent of him lingering on my skin said otherwise.

I needed a cold shower. And maybe a punch in the face. Or five. God, I hate myself. And worse—I hate how much my body wants him again. Wants more. Fuck.

I stormed into the bathroom, not even bothering to grab a towel. I wanted to feel the cold. I deserved to feel it. Maybe if I froze my skin off, I could forget the feel of his hands all over me. I turned the tap, let the water run ice-cold, and stepped in without a second thought. The shock made me gasp, my breath catching in my throat—but I stayed there, hands gripping the wall, letting the freezing water beat down on me.

I scrubbed at my skin like it had betrayed me. Like I could erase the heat he left behind. His hands on my waist. His mouth between my thighs. The low growl of my name as he—

“No!” I snapped out loud, squeezing my eyes shut.

DE Regrets

I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder, furiously dragging it across my skin. Redness bloomed beneath my touch, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to scrub deeper. I wanted to scrape off the part of me that had wanted him. God—what’s wrong with me?

First Louis. Now Lennox. Two brothers. Two men who made it very fucking clear that I wasn’t what they wanted—at least not in the way that mattered. Louis… at least was understandable. He was drugged, and I got a request out of him. But Lennox? He met me horny, pleasuring myself. How disgraceful.

How did I let it happen again? How did I let another man who doesn’t want me touch me like I mattered? A sob escaped my throat, and I bit down on my knuckles to keep from screaming. I felt used. Disgusting. Weak.

“Fuck you, Lennox,” I whispered, the tears falling freely now, mixing with the freezing water. Fuck you for looking at me like that. For touching me like I was yours. Like I meant something.

I pressed my forehead against the cold tile, letting the chill bite into my skin. And fuck me for letting it happen. For wanting it. I sank down to the shower floor, hugging my knees to my chest as the water kept falling.

No matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how cold the water got—I still felt him. On my skin. In my bones. And worst of all, in the part of me that ached for him. Even now. Even after everything. I was achingly pathetic.

I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower. The cold water kept pouring over me, but I couldn’t move. I felt empty, like something inside me had broken. Eventually, my skin started to sting, and I was shaking too much to stay there. I reached for a towel, dried off without looking in the mirror, and walked back to my room like a ghost. I didn’t want to see myself. I didn’t want to think.

Be Regrets

I pulled on an old shirt, crawled into bed, and dragged the blanket over my body. I curled up as tight as I could, wishing I could disappear. “This didn’t happen,” I whispered into the darkness. I said it again. And again. Like maybe if I repeated it enough times, it would be true.

No Lennox. No touching. No mistake. Just me. Alone. “It never happened,” I whispered one last time. And then, with my heart aching and my mind spinning, I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep.