Chapter 5 #2
But I feel a bit lighter now. Fiona makes me feel lighter.
She makes me feel other things too. In fact, just thinking about her pink, full lips, and the swells of her breasts under that T-shirt has my dick swollen and aching.
I reach down and give my cock a firm squeeze, running my thumb over the tip.
My balls start to throb, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve felt this horny.
Yes, girls and guys were a distraction at first, but I lost my taste for random hookups after a couple drunken nights when my dick stopped cooperating.
I bite back a moan as I run my hand up and down my hard length in earnest.“Fuck, this is so wrong,”
It doesn’t take long before my ab muscles tighten and I come with a loud grunt, blowing my load all over my hand and the bathtub. I steady myself against the shower wall until my heart rate slows.
The orgasm was so fucking intense.
Where did that even come from?
Finally, I shut off the water and step out into the steamy bathroom, wrapping a soft towel—holy shit, it’s like a cloud—around my waist. I open the bathroom door and peek around the frame.
Fi is sitting on the bed frowning at her phone.
I flush when I realize she was within ear shot the entire time.
I notice a pile of clean clothes at her side. “Whose clothes are those?”
She looks up and seems to consider her words.
“Fiona,” I warn.
She holds up her hands. “They’re Sebastian’s. But you can’t walk around in those gross clothes, B.”
My gaze snaps back to her face. In the ambient bedroom light, her features are soft, and I really want to touch her. My insides twist as we stare at each other. All this time, and I could have had her if I hadn’t been so selfish.
Fiona’s eyes keep darting down, and I realize she’s trying not to look at my bare torso. I grin and run my tongue along my lower lip. “Still like what you see?”
She scoffs. “Check your ego, B.” She stands and throws the clothes at my feet.
I drop the towel with a shrug and reach for the boxers.
“For fuck’s sake.” Fi slaps her hand over her eyes. She turns and nearly stumbles over her own feet. I snicker. “I see you still have no sense of modesty.”
I pull on the sweats and look down, a tickle of unease in my gut. “I know I’ve lost a little muscle, but I think I’m still okay.” I tense and poke my stomach with a bit of force. My abs are still visible, just a little squishier. “I suppose I should lay off the beer.”
Fiona huffs a laugh, and I look up to find her staring at me with an amused smile.
I step closer to her, and she angles her face up.
She still smells like gardenias, which I always found endearing, considering her last name.
Whenever we were together, her smell would wrap me in comfort.
When I was a teen, we had a vacation home on the coast in Orange County, California, where my mom grew gardenias.
The smell always mixed perfectly with the salty sea air.
And before you make a joke about it, I can confirm that because of my hair, I was constantly compared to Ryan Atwood from The O.C.
—even though I was a baby when that show aired.
But the guy is easy on the eyes, so whatever.
“Why are you really here?” I ask, my fingers skimming along her jaw.
Her breath catches, and a little spark inside me ignites at the idea that I still affect her. We played a good will-they-won’t-they game in college, but in the end, we both lost.
She clears her throat and shrugs. “I needed a change.” A million questions fly through my head, but I know I have no right to ask her anything personal.
I study her. Fi looks the same, but somehow different, like the years we’ve spent apart have fractured some part of her, and I realize that I want to relearn every inch of this woman.
My cock seems to agree. Fiona’s breasts are full and perky, and they’re practically touching my chest, which is sending a delicious ache straight to my dick despite what I just did in the shower.
I wish I’d never run into her again because I don’t know if she would ever consider taking me back. Hell, we weren’t even technically together when I chose my career over every relationship in my life. I hurt her deeply. I’m not sure I’m worth forgiving. But shit, I want to be better.
She bends down to pick up Bastian’s T-shirt, her face dangerously close to my hardening cock, and hands it to me. “Are you hungry? I think there’s some leftover Pad Thai.”
I let out a heavy breath when she steps out of my space and leads me down the hallway and into the kitchen.
I follow, trying to defuse my horny thoughts.
I have no idea what time it is, but it’s pitch-black outside, and I can hear rain pelting against the windows.
I sit at the kitchen island and watch her rummaging through the fridge.
Was her ass always so perfect and round?
When I feel my cock stirring again, I adjust myself under the counter.
Calm the fuck down.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t go? I really don’t think I’m welcome—” My words are cut off when I hear the beep of the lock.
Fuck.
I stare at the front door anxiously, and when Sebastian enters, he stops, his expression turning thunderous. I swear, he only looks at me that way.
“Jesus, he’s still here?” Bastian slams the door, and I flinch.
Fiona does not.
She’s fucking fearless.
“Stop it, Sebastian,” she snaps, standing up with a white takeout box in her hand.
Bastian’s eyebrows rise. “You’re going to give him my leftover Thai food?”
I almost chuckle at the whine in his voice. “I really don’t—”
Fi shoots a glare my way. “There’s enough for everyone, so both of you shut it.”
Then she moves around the kitchen, pulling out plates and beers and setting everything up at the counter as if we’re a happy little family. I glance at Bastian, and he glowers at me. I pick up my beer with a smirk, take a long swig, and pat the stool next to me.
Am I a condescending asshole?
Absolutely.
When the food is heated up, we all sit and eat in awkward silence. I stare around the apartment, taking in the high-end appliances and leather furniture, everything in blacks, whites, and a few shades of gray—your typical guy pad.
“You and Marcus really have a nice American Psycho vibe in this place. Who’s your interior designer?”
Fiona snorts a laugh, and Sebastian’s unamused gaze moves between us. “Really funny, asshole.”
I shrug. “I’m just saying, it’s cozy.”
“Be nice, B.”
“Oh, are you guys on a first-letter basis now?” Bastian asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“What if we are, Bastian?” I watch him grit his teeth at the nickname. “We have history, you know.”
“Oh yeah? Were you an alcoholic douchebag back then too?”
The dig hurts, and I slam my beer on the marble counter. “If you’re jealous—”
“I’m not, but she’s my stepsister’s best friend.”
“Jesus, you two, simmer down. If you’re done with your dick-measuring contest—” Fiona’s phone buzzes, and we all look at it before she snatches it up. Her face pales when she stares at the screen.
“Who is it? Is everything okay?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
Fiona yanks away from me in a jerky movement. “I, uh, yeah. It’s just the…” Fiona licks her lips as her voice trails off.
Bastian narrows his eyes. “The…?”
“What?” Fiona asks quickly.
“You didn’t finish your sentence.”
“Right, yeah, the lawyer. It’s just the lawyer for my mom’s estate.” She hops up, her phone in a white-knuckled grip, and walks to the living room.
“That was weird, right?” he whispers.
I glance at Sebastian, and for once, his expression isn’t hostile. “Yeah, really weird.”
Bastian stands and picks up our plates, takes them to the sink, and starts to rinse them off. I watch him in silence for a few moments before I clear my throat.
“Look, this wasn’t my idea. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he concedes, turning to face me.
“Fiona is…” We glance where she’s pacing with her back to us, and Bastian lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Listen, Stitch. Like I said, she’s my stepsister’s friend, so I sure as shit am not going to let anyone hurt her.
” He steps up to the counter and places his palms flat on top if it, leaning toward me until our noses practically touch. “Understand?”
I’m transfixed by Bastian’s large hands splayed out in front of me and the way his forearms flex under his weight.
My dick twitches involuntarily. I bring the beer to my lips and take a sip, staring into his ice-blue eyes.
I refuse to let him intimidate me, but also, I completely get it.
Fiona’s special, and I’d be throwing the same threat his way if our roles were reversed.
“Yeah, I understand.”