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Raleigh’s voice is still ringing in my ear, calling me a coward and tempting me closer all the same. Lord, he’s sweet. In another lifetime, I’d eat him alive and savor every morsel. He’s not immune either—I wasn’t the only one getting hard on that couch a few minutes ago. Though I’m pretty sure he has no idea he’s interested.
The fantasy of showing him exactly why it is he responds the way he does around me is too potent to resist. I tear open the button of my jeans, making my way to the bed to take care of this once and for all.
The tangled sheets and recently vacated pillows register, but it’s the scent that grabs me by the throat. Raleigh and Callie and sex. They’re stamped all over this room, but here I can smell it, just as plainly as if they were still here. I grip the bedpost, the same one that held me up last night as I watched Raleigh pound up into Callahan, gripping her hips so hard. I work my zipper down, too impatient, too wound up to wait any longer, fisting my dick the way I’d wanted to as I watched them. Her breasts, her throaty cries, Raleigh’s face when I’d tossed him on the bed. Callie’s eyes when she stood so close to me. So close.
Release is just out of reach, despite the sticky, vivid memories of their bodies, their arousal. I let go of the bedpost and slide my other hand down to grab my balls, tugging slightly, fucking into my fist. If they were here, I’d order them both to their knees, make them open their mouths to take it.
Fuck. Fuck.
The power of the orgasm doubles me over, and I spill into the inside of my shirt in a last-second attempt to keep it my secret.
God, I hate secrets.
I grip the bed sheet with both hands, trying to catch my breath. I can already feel the heat building again. One wasn’t enough.
I never touched them, not really. Just the one kiss I stole from her and the brief seconds where my hands gripped him as I threw him on the bed. It wasn’t enough. If I could just have them once, I could scratch this itch, soothe this ache.
It might be enough. It has to be.
Two hours of sleep is not enough. The obnoxious ringtone tells me Finn is calling. I scrub the sleep out of my eyes and answer.
“What?”
“Good afternoon to you too, sunshine.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re awfully chipper for somebody who tied one on at a bachelor party last night,” I grouse.
“Got laid,” he says cheerfully. “You did too. Unless that was porn I heard when I got back to my room last night.”
That has me wide awake.
“Your room’s on the other side of the building,” I say, heart hammering. I start digging through my suitcase for clothes.
Finn laughs. “That’s as good as a confession,” he says, crowing. Goddamn it. I need coffee, now.
“You’re still drunk,” I say.
“It’s possible,” he says easily. “But it’s a wedding. We’re supposed to be having a good time.”
“Now that the bachelor party is over, I guess your work here is done,” I say.
“Ah, that’s why I’m calling,” says Finn. “Alex needs help, and I’m his errand bitch. Or so he tells me. Want to tag along?”
“What a charming offer,” I say, turning on the shower to heat. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t spend my day with my ass on the beach.” More like sleeping off the most frustrating night of my life, but I’m not about to admit that to Finn.
“I’m bringing coffee,” he singsongs.
I sigh. “Give me twenty minutes.”
I could have been ready in ten, but the sheets I passed out on were still full of the heady scent of sex, and I wasn’t about to show myself in the lobby without taking care of things first. And showers make for easy cleanup.
Shaking off the vivid fantasy I’d called up of Callahan and Raleigh licking me clean, I dress and make my way down to the front desk again. The girl from earlier, the one who’d been reading at the desk, is gone; I must have missed shift change.
The sofa where I nearly kissed Raleigh this morning is vacant. The leather is so dark it’s almost black, an obvious antique. My father would love it.
It’s one of the few things we have in common.
“You look like shit, man.”
