“I know my place is kind of far out, but I’d like to spend time with the girls,” he tacked on to be that guy. Shit.
“Of course, your house sounds great.” I lied so big and badly they could have seen the glaringLIARstamp on my forehead from the air traffic control tower at LAX.
“Cool, follow me. I think Jamie will be serving something light.”
“Jamie. Light. Super. Yeah, yum.”
Oliver trotted to the car. I schlepped to mine, threw my bag into the back of my new SUV, and then slid behind the wheel to sulk. Fuck. Okay, so this was doable. I had to be polite and smile at the man whose ass I’d ravaged then ran away from a mere twelve hours ago.
I should give up on men and sex and become a monk. Could monks play hockey? I’d check into it if I didn’t die from embarrassment and shame in the next two hours.
Jamie seemed stunned to see me slide like a snake into the kitchen. His mouth fell open, and he fumbled to tug the loose-necked tee he was wearing up to his ears. Too late, though. I’d seen the marks I’d left on his pale skin. My dick reacted to seeing the dark love bites with a kick. Monkhood. Yep, I was looking into a life of quiet reflection and abstinence in some ivy-covered French monastery.
It’s hard to play hockey for the Storm if you’re picking lavender at an abbey in Provence.
Shit. Maybe the French monks had a hockey team. I’d research that as well.
“Hey, we have company for lunch,” Oliver announced a bit too merrily. Jamie pasted on a smile that made his cheeks apple up so deeply I couldn’t see his pretty eyes. “I hope you have enough for a guest?”
“Guest, yes, of course. We love guests.” Jamie turned to the stove, turned the blue flame under a soup pot off, and faced his friend. “May I have a word with you in private, please?”
“Sure. Why don’t you have a seat, Craig? We’ll be a minute.”
I nodded at Oli, sat at the table, and noticed no little girls. Huh, maybe they were upstairs napping. I wanted a long nap that would last until my flight to the monastery for hockeymonks took off. I rubbed my knotted forehead to ease the furrows etched on it when Jamie’s usually calm voice grew in intensity.
“What the fuck are you doing? Why the fuck did you bring him here for lunch?!”
Oh shit. I gauged the size of the window over the sink. No, not big enough for me to wiggle out of to make a sneaky escape. My phone buzzed. I should have left it in my bag, but no, I had to be an internet junkie. My sister’s latest text about a dinner for my parent’s fortieth anniversary in four months sat right above the one from Leon.
“We’re partners in a hockey event next Summer benefitting the local LGBTQ teen shelter, and I wanted to talk strategy with him,” Oliver replied.
“Strategy. For something happening next year?”
“Also, I wanted to see the girls.”
“The girls are in school! You did this on purpose; admit it. I shouldn’t have told you and Jackson about my mistake last night!”
Ouch. Wow, that hurt way more than it should. A mistake. Shit, that stung. But he was right. What we’d done had been a drunken mistake. It should and would never happen again. My past was littered with terrible blunders. The proof was a text on my phone from the last ghastly screwup I’d made.
“You should keep your voice down,” Oliver said in a harsh whisper.
“Sod off. I’m not keeping my fucking voice down. I told you about that in confidence, and then you bring the man here. What on earth were you thinking?!”
“I was thinking you and him could patch things up. You look like you had a good time, and he’s a great guy.”
Aww, Oliver was so friendly. That made me feel good.
“Good guys do not ghost you in the middle of the night.” And that made me feel like shit. “And not even a clean ghosting. No, he had to run into your damn boyfriend, who sleeps far too lightly for any normal human being!”
Oli snorted a laugh.
“Donotlaugh at me. I’m fucking pissed at you for this, and I willnotbe making you lunch. So, you can take your sneaky but not sneaky charity partner to the fucking Arby’s for all I care. I hope you choke on a curly fry!”
“Really?” Oliver asked weakly.
“No, but I hope you get acid reflux and burp all day.”
With that, Jamie stormed up the stairs and slammed a door. His bedroom door, I had to assume. The same bedroom we’d torn up like two wild animals. My cock twitched at the memory of Jamie riding me, his cock bouncing, his ass clenched around my?—
