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“We have two on and none out, why can’t you go to the bathroom yourself?” he sputtered.
“I don’t know where it is!” Sloane said. For a pampered girl, that was a perfectly logical reason. I grinned, watching them bicker like children.
“Hey, Sawyer, don’t be a shitty boyfriend. Take her to the bathroom,” I broke it up, blowing kisses when he groaned and took Sloane’s hand, dragging her out of the aisle like a begrudging brother.
When I turned back to Jake, I saw a wince twitching in his laugh. “What?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer when I saw him spreading his legs to make more room for himself in his jeans. “Oh,” I breathed, realizing what was going on. “All I did was squeeze your knee,” I giggled quietly, letting myself lean into him. The second I nestled closer, he kissed the top of my head.
“I know,” he murmured, a laugh in his voice. “But you can pretty much walk a straight line and get me hard as a rock.”
I bit my lip as he pushed my hair back and kissed my neck. Heat radiating my skin, I closed my eyes. “Jake, we can’t…”
“I have to.” He brought his mouth to mine, kissing me so gently that I instantly needed more. “This is the only time I’ll ever get to pretend that you’re mine.” He kissed me again, a tingle darting between my legs as he slid his tongue between my lips. I knew I should but I couldn’t stop it anymore. I kissed him back, cupping his jaw and starting over in my head. For those few seconds, I imagined that I’d met Jake after college, on some va
cation. Aside from the constant traveling, we lived a low-key life. No drama, no cheating, no getting back at each other in strange ways. We were just a normal couple and this was just a regular day. After the game, we’d go home, make dinner and spend too long picking out a movie to watch. And at night, a massage in bed would turn into sex.
It was the simplest but naughtiest fantasy I’d ever had.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I awoke next morning to see Sloane next to me in bed. It took a second for me to remember that she had slept over last night. After the game, we’d gone to a nearby bar with the boys, where Sawyer had proposed a game of pool, girls versus guys. Every time a shot was made, the other team drank. And every time I went up, I felt Jake’s eyes on my backside. If I needed confirmation of it, I looked up at Sawyer, who’d be laughing or shaking his head at Jake over my shoulder.
“I know, brother. It’s painful,” he said during a shot that had me half seated on the table, angled in a way that pinched my waist and flared my hips. After sinking the ball, I glanced over my shoulder to throw a triumphant smirk at Jake, but before I could, I felt him yank me into his chest by my hips, pulling my ass against the zipper of his jeans. My eyes went wide as I felt his erection press against me, and I stared across the table at Sawyer and Sloane, who laughed drunkenly.
“Damn, you guys are getting a little too convincing!” Sloane giggled. She was too drunk to notice anything off but as I rolled out of bed, letting her sleep, I recalled a moment that struck fear in my heart. It was something Sawyer had said to me while we both watched Jake shoot for the eight ball. It had been quiet but the air had been thick and I could tell that he was waiting for the right moment to speak.
“Hey, if something were going on,” he finally started, his eyes glazed over from the whiskey, “I’d be behind you on it. ‘Cause I get it. I understand why,” he finished, his gaze sliding from Jake to me. As drunk as he was, I could hear something deliberate in the way he spoke. But by the time I asked what he was talking about, it was his turn to shoot. And in no time, the moment was lost amid all the shouting and drunken laughter.
“Speak of the devil,” I murmured to myself when my phone lit with a text from him. I opened it hastily.
You were probably too drunk to remember but the deal last night was that loser had to buy a massive hangover-curing lunch the next day. You lost. It’s noon. We’re hungry.
~
Lunch was in SoHo because Jake had crashed at Sawyer’s penthouse on West Broadway. Since it was close by, we went to Broome Street Kitchen, the place where I had first realized that Max was in fact Jake. It had been a gut-wrenching realization then but today, I could vaguely laugh about it – but not without feeling guilty. As Sloane and I approached the boys’ table, I wiggled my lips, trying to suppress my amusement.
“Morning, losers,” Sawyer greeted us jovially. “How we feeling?”
“It’s not exactly morning anymore,” I laughed, glancing at my phone, “but I feel fine.”
“Well, I feel like crap,” Sloane pouted. “And I’m so tired of this place. Don’t you boys ever go anywhere besides here and Buccieri?”
Sawyer blinked. “Not really, no.”
“Well, that’s stupid and I hate it here,” Sloane grumbled, ever the grouch when hung over. I glanced at Jake, exchanging a little laugh as she continued to lament over the menu. “This isn’t what I want. I don’t want any of this. I want a burger. Or a bagel. I don’t want a croustillant. What is that? Did I even say that right? Oh, who fuckin’ cares.”
“Shit, she’s cursing,” Sawyer said seriously, knowing well that Sloane only swore when truly enraged. Heaving a sigh, he nodded out the door. “Well, if you’re really upset, go outside and get a bagel.”
“By myself?” Sloane asked, aghast.
“Yes, Princess. Or you know what – Jake will take you.”
Jake lifted an eyebrow. “I will?” He turned to look at Sloane, whose tantrum had her tossing a menu on the floor with boredom. “Yeah, okay, I will,” he nodded, flashing me a quizzical look before sliding out of the booth. I watched him go, feeling a little wary myself as he left me alone with Sawyer. Somehow, I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say.
“So, you remember anything from last night?” he asked after a beat of silence. He scanned the menu but I kept my eyes on him.
“The important things,” I replied.
He looked up, a serious look in his dark eyes. “Yeah. I saw you and Jake kissing at the game.”
