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She used to be poised, collected, ready to fire off a cutting quip whenever she was around me. Now, she’s like a deer in the headlights.
Because now, we both know what’s running through her mind whenever she sees me.
I look into her eyes and feel relief when I can tell she’s not drunk.
“You doing alright?” I ask. For that question, I take the cocky suggestiveness out of my voice. Because I really do want to know. I’m worried about her.
She nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. House parties are hard for me, because I was in one before I …” she trails off, leaving what happened to her in Maine unsaid. “But I guess bars and stuff are different. They don’t trigger the same response in me.”
“Good.” I mean it. I really am glad. Now that that’s out of the way, I can tease her again. I tilt my head in the direction the guy she was talking to just walked in. “So, who’s the chump?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re just gonna be a macho jerk and call every other guy I talk to a chump, now?”
“You’re fooling yourself,” I say, my voice low.
“How’s that?”
“If you thinkhecould make you feel the way I could make you feel.”
Now that shade of crimson that I’ve come to love so much flushes in her cheeks.
I lean closer to her, close enough to smell the strawberry scent of her hair, to see the glimmer of want in her chestnut eyes.
“You’re fooling yourself if you think his touch could light your body on fire like mine could, if you think his lips could make your eyes roll into the back of your head, if you think he could draw out your pleasure until you’re begging for release, and then make that release so intense that you feel like your legs will never stop shaking.”
Her jaw drops, and my eyes track to her open mouth, so plush and glistening and soft. Fuck, I want to feel that mouth on my lips. I want to feel every fucking inch of this girl on my lips.
Now that I know she feels the same way, I don’t even try to deny it anymore.
“Just tell me you don’t want me to do all that,” I rasp. “Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
Her pretty pink lips don’t move to tell me that. Because she knows the truth as well as I do. Her mouth remains an open ring, her eyes riveted to me.
“Oh, hello.”
I turn my head to find the scrawny guy back. I huff out a dismissive chuckle. A guy like him, satisfying a girl like Phoebe? No way.
She needs a real man. She needs me.
And when I look back to her, look deep in her luscious brown eyes—I know that she knows it, too.
“Talk to you later, Pheebs,” I drawl, pushing away from the table and taking a big sip of my beer, because I sure as hell need it.
I glance back at Phoebe once I rejoin the rest of the team. She has to pretend that she wasn’t just looking at me, too.
19
PHOEBE
Damn Hunter Landry.
For the last two weeks all I’ve been able to think about are his big stupid muscles, and his big stupid blue eyes, and his big stupid hands, and his big stupid cock.
Of course, I’ve never seen his cock. I don’t actually know if it’s big, but … come on! Of course it’s big.
Every time he sees me, he reminds me of what I asked him for when I was drunk.
And the worst part? Every time he sees me, he reminds me that all I need to do is tell him that I don’t want what he’s offering, and he’ll stop offering it.
