But I don’t. I keep walking upstairs and head to his bedroom. Because he’s not mine. He can flirt with whoever he wants.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try not to think about the fact that Blake might hook up wth that gorgeous brunette.
I’m still thinking about it even when I crawl into bed. I sigh, annoyed at myself.
I grab my phone and open Instagram to distract myself. I pull up my favorite account—the one that’s sure to distract me in the hottest way.
That Shirtless Guy.
When I see his latest post, I gasp softly. It’s a photo of him wearing a helmet that’s tinted so his face isn’t visible. He’s bare-chested like he always is. A pair of gray sweatpants sits low on his hips.
My eyes go wide as I take in every cut muscle of his torso. He looks like his body was carved from marble. He’s ripped to the max. Biceps, shoulders, pecs, abs. He even has those lines on the sides of his stomach that disappear under the waistband of hissweatpants. Like some sort of naughty trail leading to something even naughtier in his pants…
The longer I stare at the photo, the hotter my skin gets. And then I read the caption.
Wishing you were on my face instead.
I let out a giddy laugh.Oh, damn.This guy is very dirty, and I like it.
I don’t remember how I first found his account. I think one of my friends must have shared it in their Instagram stories. But the second I found him, I followed him.
Every time I need a distraction, I look at his pictures. Every time I’m in the mood and need…visual stimulation…I pull up his account. All it takes is a couple of minutes with my vibrator or my hand while looking at his photos, and I come. Hard. Every single time.
That tell-tale pulse lands between my legs. For a split second, I contemplate getting myself off, but I stop myself. No way. Not in Blake’s bed. That would be so inappropriate. Especially after how nice he’s been to me.
I put my phone on silent, turn off the bedside lamp, and go to sleep, trying to ignore that ache between my thighs.
Chapter 3
Blake
When I wake up, I try my hardest not to yawn too loud. Briar’s still sleeping, and I don’t want to wake her.
I reach my arms up and let out a quiet groan as I stretch out on the twin-size air mattress I’ve been sleeping on. It’s not as comfortable as my bed, but I sleep like the dead, so it’s no big deal. I’d rather she have a good night’s sleep after all the stress she’s going through with her apartment falling through and that mess with her ex.
I sit up, noticing how the dim lighting in the room is perfect for a photo. I lie back down and grab my phone, then take a picture of my bare chest. The shadowy lighting makes the lines in my pecs and abs pop out even more.
I post it to my secret account and add a short caption.
Good morning, beauties. How do you like to be woken up?
I grab my T-shirt from the floor and slip it on. I’m about to stand up when I see something under the bed. I stare at the hot pink mound of fabric. What the hell is that? I don’t own anything hot pink.
A second later, it hits me: those are Briar’s panties.
My cock starts to twitch. I immediately look away. It feels wrong to stare at them. She’s my friend. I shouldn’t know what her panties look like.
But as I stand up and quietly step out of the room, they’re all I can think about.
“You’re such a fucking creep,” I mutter to myself as I head to the bathroom.
I walk downstairs and take in the state of the place. Empty beer cans and red Solo cups litter the entire first floor. The TV is paused on a still of some show I don’t recognize, and a couple of our dining chairs are tipped over. The couch cushions are on the floor for some reason.
When I walk into the kitchen, Nick and Travis are standing by the coffee pot, staring at it as it brews.
I grab a glass and fill it at the sink.
“You two are addicted to coffee, and it’s a problem,” I say between gulps of water.
