5: Benny.

I wave to my granddaughter from the other side of the hotel bar. When she smiles and sends me a flurry of fingers in return, I’m swamped by guilt. She has no idea I just dry fucked her best friend up on the tenth floor. Hell, I could barely bring myself to wipe her come off my chin and I have the nerve to wave at Sasha? I should be locked up. Behind bars.

Especially because I want to do it again.

And again.

The bartender slides a glass in front of me, accompanied by a bottle of scotch. I must look like I need a stiff drink—and I do. I slosh two fingers of liquor into the glass and toss it back, immediately regretting the action because it washes away some of her taste.

I shove the glass aside and rake my hands down my face. Of course, Terrence’s room had to be joined with mine. The temptation is going to flat out kill me. I’ve been on this earth sixty-three years and I’ve had my fair share of women, but I’ve never, ever had one that compared to Terrence. The fragile innocence of her,