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“It’d be nice to have a real relationship before I play hide the salami for the first time.” Despite the semi-serious topic, I can’t help the laughter that slips out. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I mutter, “You did not just allude to sex as hide the salami,” from behind it.
“You, making friends? I highly doubt that.” Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “There’s no need to be an ass, you know. It’s not the best way to keep this little fair catch in place.”
“I’m a ray of fucking sunshine,” I remind him. “And my new friend would probably agree with me on that point.”
There’s another pause, and I can tell Kason wants to fish for information. Too bad for him, I’m not willing to spill tea without being asked to pour it first. Eventually, he caves, murmuring, “What’d he say to you?”
“I’m not always that dramatic, I promise.” I watch as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, completely oblivious to the movie now when he adds, “I can prove it if you decide to come to another game.” “You just want your own little cheering squad made up of me and Phoenix.” Kason’s low chuckle reverberates against my arm, and it does something weird to my stomach. Makes it flip-flop like a damn fish out of water.
My mind is too stuck on his obscene jealousy comment. But there’s absolutely no way. Just the thought is crazy, considering I’m still trying to help him actually get out there—and more importantly—out of the house. The first failed attempt was just a one-off. A fluke.
There’s a strange sort of fluttering in my chest from him shoving down whatever discomfort he was feeling about this topic, choosing to confide in me instead.
“He moved my mom and I to Nashville for a new job. He’d gone to work drunk or reeking of alcohol one too many times at the place he was working down in ‘Bama. Promises were made to convince my mom that carting us up to Tennessee was the right move: that things would change, that he’d change and be a better father, husband, provider, you name it. And for a little while, he was.”
“Since I was still just a kid, I’d been naive enough to believe he could actually follow through on all these promises he’d made
With them, it was the first time I’d ever truly felt wanted or loved or like I was worth something. Like I was safe.”
But tonight is night five of the month-long marathon, and more importantly, my turn to pick. Kason’s face when he sees the title of what I’ve chosen is gonna be fucking priceless.
It’s weird, considering the entire point of him going out on dates is so I could get some alone time at the apartment. But I dunno…it’s like the more time I actually spend trying to actively tolerate the guy—either
the more I seem to not mind him being around. Or maybe even like having him here. It’s fucking weird.
My stomach swirls a little, and I quickly chalk it up to checking out Kason the way his date likely will. And from what I can tell—and after scoping for untucked shirt tails or hairs out of place—he’s more than first-date ready.
“You’re on a roll with those zingers tonight, Hazey. Truly.” “Always here to service you, roomie.” “You’re ridiculous. And a pervert.” I hold up my hands, feigning innocence. “It’s not my fault Quinton liked to rub off on me.”
I check my phone again—for what might be the fifteenth time in five minutes—only to find it still void of notifications. And though I shouldn’t, I find the matter rather unsettling. What the hell is going on?
Hell, maybe even a great time, schmoozing it up with Madden the baseball player. More importantly, I should be enjoying this time I get to myself. It’s what I wanted all along, and was always the plan to make this truce work even better than it already is. So why can’t I let this go? Maybe it’s because, despite the walls I’ve attempted to maintain, Kason has sort of become a friend to me. And friends look out for each other in situations like this.
it’s not like I’m storming the restaurant to find him. Except, once that idea manages to worm its way into my thoughts, there’s no erasing it. But
But then Madden reaches across the table, resting his hand on top of Kason’s while they laugh about something I can’t hear from this distance. And rather than seeing red, the most vibrant shade of green floods my vision.
And my first impression is…holy fuck, he has a lot of ink. There’s no way all of it is visible right now. Bits of tattoo peek out from the long sleeves of his dress shirt, covering both of his hands as well as creeping up past the collar on his neck.
My skin is on fire where his brushes mine, and I quickly swallow down the knot in my throat that’s appeared out of nowhere. What is going on with me right now?
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask the fool staring back. And more importantly, why the hell are you jealous? Because this isn’t me. Feelings and emotions and dating aren’t a priority right now.
At all the things I never noticed before, yet are in vivid technicolor now.
Every inch of my body presses into his, and I just…kiss him. And it feels good. Like something just clicks in place.
I roll and grind my hips into him while flicking my tongue against his, our bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. My cock strains against my zipper, begging be released from its confines, and— Holy shit, I’m hard.
man starved of oxygen. What the hell is going on? I don’t have time to figure it out, though, because despite being hard, confused, and a little bit irritated, I still have to go back out there and finish the rest of this date with Madden. Fuck, Madden.
It’s not funny; no part of this entire scenario is funny. Yet as I stare at my roommate who I’ve been doing my best not to fantasize about for months now—the one I’d accepted that there’s no way anything would ever happen with—I can’t help the laugh that bursts free.
pervy jokes and how dangerously attracted to him I was so we could be friends. Hell, I did my best to play off my horrifying slip-up a few weeks ago by lying straight to his face,
“Is this you trying to get an apology outta me? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve proven just how hard those are to come by.” There’s a brief pause before he murmurs, “I’m well versed in just how hard you come, yes.” Holy fucking shit.
“You don’t have to admit it, I already know I’m right. It’s just too bad you didn’t figure it out sooner instead of trying to get me out of the house at every turn.” He must notice the way my eyes widen, because he smirks and nods. “Yeah, I saw right through that offer you made about helping me with the dating app.”
“We’re a lot more alike than you’d care to admit, Hayes,” I murmur, leaning forward on the counter. “So while I’m doing my best to play it cool, in reality, I’ve spent the entire day thinking about last night. About what it means for us going forward. And I have the feeling you’re in a pretty similar place.”
“So that’s where you were all those hours you were avoiding me,”
I did memorize the first three hundred digits of pi.” “Tell me you’re joking.” “Not at all,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to my mouth again. “It’s called balance.”
Please, for the love of fucking God, do not let me puke on this man’s dick, because I will never hear the end of it.
There’s something about the way he whispers these things in my ear that just make it impossible to resist. I can’t stop myself from being pulled under the intoxication of his praises or his commands, and though I know it could makes things really fucking messy, I don’t really want to either.
Him handing me one now proves it wasn’t. And it also proves he cares enough to pick up where Phoenix sort of…left off.
And the taste only gets worse realizing that while the two of them are forming this…friendship, the one I have with Phoe is still very much on the outs.
That he does, but what he fails to realize is that him in it does a helluva lot more to the organ in my chest than it does any other part of me.
“Thanks, jock,” I counter immediately, grinning. “I happen to be pretty good with my mouth.” Kason rolls his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes getting dangerously heated when he utters, “Believe me, I’m well aware.”
I stare at him, half in shock, the other half in awe, while he nods again, giving me permission to…butter his asshole. The thought has me stifling a laugh as I lift my fingers to his crease, spreading the liquid over his rim.
“We don’t want everyone in here to know you’re letting me finger-fuck your ass with popcorn butter, do we? You gotta be quiet.”
“How many licks does it take to get butter off a booty hole?” I muse, lapping at his hole a few more times before he fists his fingers in my hair and yanks me away. His eyes are a forest lit ablaze when my gaze meets his and he dryly mutters, “The world may never know.”
“I knew you were just using me for my body.” I roll my eyes, despite him not being able to see it. “Obviously. We demisexuals are often known for only wanting to get some and get lost. I can’t believe you’d expect anything different.” “Smartass,” he mutters
“You coming?” “I could be, but someone’s stomach is getting in the way.” With a playful huff,
He pauses, a bite halfway to his mouth, and frowns. “Do you want me to come?” “I always want you to come, baby,” I murmur,
“Oh, Hayes, darling. I know that. I’m just trying to get to know him. After all, he’s dating my youngest child. Any decent parent would want to do the same.”
“Oh, what? Am I supposed to act like you wouldn’t do this with any person one of us would bring through the door?”
“Well, that doesn’t seem like much of a viable career path,” Mrs. Lancaster says with a light chuckle. “It’s a good thing you have a degree to fall back on, which would make much more sense to focus on for the remainder of your collegiate years.” “Or he could continue to pursue a career in the NFL,
“So yeah, I’d suggest you spill the fucking tea, Oakley.” There’s a beat of silence before Oakley mutters, “I’m so fucking toast for this.”
But all the fight inside me dies the second a tall, dark-haired guy covered in tattoos slips out the front door. One that’s familiar enough to have my stomach roiling at the sight of him. “Madden?” He halts in his tracks, brows crashing together. “Hayes, right?” “Yeah,” I say slowly, stopping beside him. “Do you live here?” Madden glances back at the townhouse he’d just left, then back to me. I swear to God, if he says no, I might actually— “No, I was just…visiting someone.”
