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“I’m feeling sick over this plot twist. Please don’t tell me she chooses the other guy?”
Masen is lying beside me with his chest exposed. He purposely ignores me with a mischievous grin while typing on his phone. I’m drawn once again to how sexy he is beside me, sensing the familiar tingle travel through my body from just looking at his.
It’s the little things, like the way his dark brown hair is messy and falls to the side of his face. And how when he smiles, there’s a really small dimple on his left cheek. Then, there’s the stubble on his sharp jawline. Masculine and so sexy, which is quite odd since facial hair on women is quite the opposite.
I place the manuscript down, needing a break to relieve my eyes, but truth be told—I need to feel him inside me, now. I’m greedy, selfish—and chances are he won’t complain.
My hand runs along the contour of his abs, tracing them delicately. Beneath the white bedsheet, his cock hardens, which is the perfect time to strike.
“You’re distracting me,” he cites with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Hmmm … what am I distracting you from?”
“Hooking up with chicks on Tinder.”
I smack him with my hand. “You are such a liar. As if you’re on Tinder?”
The cocky grin on his face does nothing to slow down my desire to have him. I grab his phone to see him playing some word game on the screen.
“Ah, I knew you were a geek,” I deadpan. “Tinder my ass.”
He places his phone down. “Are you jealous?”
“No, I just knew you weren’t on Tinder because women fall at your feet like all the time. With how you look, you don’t need no sex app.”
“Is that so, Miss Edwards?”
I nod. “You can’t tell me there hasn’t been any woman trying to hook up with you in the last week?”
Masen bows his head, falling quiet. I sit up with a sudden awareness of my heart beating a little too fast this time.
“There is?”
“Yes, but I have not responded to a single one of them.”
“I can’t believe you,” I mutter in annoyance. “Show me the texts.”
“I’d rather not.”
My arms cross beneath my chest, trying to suppress my anger. A simple joke has now turned into this—my jealousy taking over and making me think crazy things.
“Show me,” I demand again.
“You’ll get angry even though I haven’t responded to a single one of them.”
A light bulb clicks in my head, reverse psychology. All I need to do is make him think he needs to prove himself in order to show me what those messages say.
“Since you won’t show me, I kind of don’t believe you. Maybe I should go …”
He shoves the phone at me. “Fine, here.”
I gladly take it from him as he tells me which messages are from these so-called women. My eyes widen at what these women, three, to be exact—have sent him. The first woman, Jennifer, sent him a dirty text saying how perfect his pierced cock is and how she needs it in her mouth again. As each word passes, the blood inside my veins rises.
The second message is from Victoria. She sent a link to a pornographic video with the thumbnail showing a woman squirting in some guy's face.Is he into this?
Then, the last text is from Jorja. It’s a video of her rubbing her pussy while calling his name. I only watch the first few seconds before hitting stop. In silence, I toss the phone back and slide down, so I’m staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the jealousy inside me, which has consumed any rational thoughts trying to break through.
“Addison,” he says softly. “They’re nothing.”
