He argued with himself in circles, a war of reason versus desire. There was always tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do this right. Tomorrow, he could fuck her. Tomorrow, he could stock up on condoms—an entire damned drawer if necessary. Tomorrow sounded safe.
Tomorrow.
He sat there, staring at nothing, letting the image of her soften instead of burn.
Then he heard her bedroom door opening.
His breath caught painfully in his throat.
Footsteps.
And then—barely audible—a light knock on his door.
"Eric?" her voice came through the wood, quiet, unsure, threaded with vulnerability.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his head back against the door, torn between every instinct screaming to open it and every promise he'd just made to himself to stay right where he was.
*****
From the moment her father turned cold eyes to her at the party arena—right after he hauled Sera dripping and coughing from the illuminated pool—Delilah knew she was in trouble.
