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“Jet.” When I don’t turn around, he moves closer, the heat of his body palpable.
He’s still here, and I need to clarify something. “So you liked it.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “The threesome. You’d do it again.”
It’s not a question, but it’s meant as one, and he seems to realize that. This guy knows me better than anyone.
“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” he says, his voice gravelly, and it sends a bolt of lust through me. “I want… I want to try more.”
‘More.’
That word. The word that’s been on my mind all this time, with all its implications.
“So we’ll do that,” I say, keeping my tone neutral, soft. “One of these days.”
“Yeah.” He exhales, his breath warm on my bare shoulder. God, he’s so damn close. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to turn and kiss him, grab him and slam him against the wall while I devour his mouth. “Catch ya later, fuckwit.”
He ruffles my hair and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me torn between frustration and laughter.
Grinning, I turn around and watch him go. I hear the apartment door click shut a moment later, and all I can think of is, he wants more.
And God help me, so do I.
Chapter Sixteen
CANDY
Title: Where Are the Fairies?
From Candy Boys (Blog serial)
“This ain’t no fairytale,” J-One drawls. “Betcha people in fairytales don’t fuck all the time.”
“Stop being a caveman for a minute,” J-Two mutters. “We don’t fuck all the time. What about that kiss we shared last night, huh?”
I lift my hand. “That kiss totally counts.”
But if it was a fairytale, wouldn’t the kiss mean we’ve reached a happy ending?
Brylee was drunk when I got home last night, and her rambling didn’t really make any sense—except for this: Ryan told her he wasn’t interested, and it was clearly the end of the world.
Now it’s morning time, and she’s avoiding me. When I knock on her bedroom door, she doesn’t respond.
I push it open and enter anyway. I know she’s up—I saw her earlier with a cup of tea and her cell phone in her hand.
“Bry.”
She’s curled up on her bed, ginger locks messy. “I don’t want to talk,” she mutters.
“Well, I do. You said very little last night.” And you pulled me away from my fantasy boyfriends before anything much happened, which sucks balls, but I’m not telling her this when she’s down already.
Plus, I’m confused enough as it is. They both kissed me. Was it a contest? Was it a test? Did it mean anything at all—or were they as tipsy as I was and fooling around?
Strange how I want it to mean something. Fantasy or not, I like these boys. I love how they care for each other. And they’re both so hot… God, it’s enough to make a girl stupid with lust.
Stupid, period.
“I’m so angry with him,” she whispers. She’s checking messages on her phone, and she’s made up like she’s about to head to a club—but her eyes are red-rimmed.
Oh, Bry…
