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“Hold up, Shane,” I tell him.
“Sure,” he continues talking when Jesse takes the phone out of my hand and places it on the nightstand.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, my voice raspy. I don’t want him to go. Fuck, I blew it.
“Yeah, I’m leaving,” he drawls, leaning both his hands next to my body on the bed. I lean back, my shirt hiking up in the process. Tracing the line of my thigh with his fingers, he says, “I have an early start tomorrow. Don’t worry, Ace of Spades, we’ll continue this some other time.”
I shiver when his fingers move up and still find me wet. He groans, kissing my cheek.
“Damn, Acie, this could have been really fucking fun.”
“Okay,” I whisper, casting my eyes down, embarrassed.
“No, it’s not okay,” he states, kissing me on the corner of my mouth. “You have a caller on line one,” he says, sarcasm running through his deep voice.
We both stare at the phone, and Shane asks, “Ace, are you there?”
I pick up the phone. “Yeah, Shane, I’m here,” I mutter, brushing my hair back.
Jesse shakes his head and leans in, his mouth inches away from my own, my breath hitching, wanting him to press his lips on mine again.
A lopsided smile warms his face for a second until it falls. “Tomorrow afternoon, don’t forget,” Jesse says, his breath ghosting over my temple. I close my eyes, anticipating the roughness of his lips on my own, but when I open them, he’s staring at me. He shakes his head. Moving away from me, he gives me a two-finger wave, and he’s out the door before I can blink. I keep staring at the closed door while Shane goes on and on about his work, and I close my eyes, knowing I’ve made a mistake by picking up my phone. Because I really like the asshole who just left.
