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“I knew you cared.” My gaze fixes on the hollow of his neck. His bare shoulders. His chest. His stomach. Those soft hairs beneath his belly button. “You’re such a guy.”
“And you’re apathetic?”
“Totally.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Because…”
“You want to know why she left.”
“How could anyone leave you?” My cheeks flush. “I don’t mean…” Yes, I do. I don’t understand how anyone could leave Ryan. But I can’t admit that. “I… I saw you together. You were good to her.”
“Her story’s different.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Parts of it.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not with you drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He motions to the half-empty bottle on the dresser.
“It wasn’t a fresh bottle.”
“How many shots have you had?”
“Not enough to be drunk.”
“This is a sober conversation.”
“Then just go.”
“Fine.” His shoulders tense. “You can sleep this off.”
“With Dean?” I bite my tongue. I’m better than cheap shots to make him jealous. Even if his envy is thrilling—it means a part of him wants me.
His jaw cricks, but he shakes it off. “I have an exclusive on coming in this room.”
“That’s selfish.”
His eyes light up as he chuckles. “Guess I should say, nobody can come in this room unless I’m here.”
“You know you’re daring me to masturbate in your bed.”
He arches a brow would you.
“Dare me again. See what happens.”
“Is it still masturbating if I’m here?”
Tug at this blanket. Untie my bikini. Demand I fuck myself for your viewing pleasure. Please. “It depends.”
“On?”
