Chapter 10
Grady
I honestly have no clue how we got here tonight.
It’s… well, it’s fucking insane. But what’s more insane is that I know exactly how to get out of this situation.
When we get out of the Uber, I can beeline straight to my bedroom, close the door, and stay there until everyone is sober and no one has done anything that we can regret.
Or better yet, I could do something right this minute.
I could move Angie’s hand, which is resting halfway up my thigh, her bright pink nails contrasting sharply with my pale pants.
But I won’t do that. Because I’m too busy watching her and Landon make up like animals in heat right beside me.
There’s a huge possibility that, when Landon finally comes up for air and sees her hand is precariously close to my hard dick, he’ll be furious.
Hit me, even. But there’s a very tiny, impossibly minuscule possibility that when he sees it, he’ll smile.
Or put his hand on top of hers. And I’m clinging to that itty bitty delusional hope like Rose clung to the door on the Titanic.
And no, her hand is not making me hard. It’s watching Landon make out with someone.
Because I’m pretending it’s me. He’s rough and possessive.
He grabs at her and nips at her lip, and it’s fucking hot.
The Uber driver changes the radio station and bumps up the volume.
Our eyes lock for a second in the rearview, but we both look away.
“Angie, we gotta rein it in,” I hear Landon whisper.
My eyes snap back to him. He’s running a thumb over her swollen bottom lip, but his eyes dart to her hand still on my thigh. He doesn’t blink. His eyes don’t grow cold, or flash hot for that matter. He looks at me. “We can pick this back up at home.”
“Okay,” she says at the same time my hormones say it.
She sighs shakily and rights herself so her torso is facing straight ahead. She drops her other hand onto Landon’s lap in the exact same position as the one on my thigh. “This is going to be so much fun.”
She tips her head back and says it to the roof of the Prius we’re in, so neither Landon or I responds.
Her hands don’t move for the rest of the drive, but I do notice she flexes her fingers, occasionally bringing her pinkie finger precariously close to grazing my balls.
My eyes move left, seeing if she does the same to Landon.
She does. So of course, my gaze lands right on the bulge in the front of his pants, which makes my own harder.
And that’s when I panic. He’s getting hard for his girlfriend, not me. He probably thinks I’m getting hard for his girlfriend, too. Landon isn’t gay. I am, and whatever shit is happening in his relationship, adding me to the mix won’t help.
So as soon as the driver pulls up in front of the house, I choke out a “thank you,” open the door, and bolt up the steps to the front porch.
I open the porch door before they have their feet on the sidewalk, but I fumble my keys as I try to open the main oak door that leads from the porch into the house.
And then I stab the key toward the lock and miss three times because I didn’t leave the porch light on, and it’s dark as fuck.
Landon and Angie make it onto the porch just as the key finally slides into the lock. I turn it, and the handle, but then Landon says, “Grady, wait.”
So I freeze like a deer in headlights.
“I think I shouldn’t wait,” I say, but I’m still not moving. “I think I should go to my room and lock the door.”
Angela steps closer to me. She slowly reaches out and takes my hand, the one holding the key. “Is it Landon?” Angela asks. “So many men have issues with guy-on-guy stuff. You can just—”
“It’s not Landon.”
She grows quiet. I can’t look at her or him. So I stare at the wood floorboards. “I’ve done this kind of thing before. I don’t mind. I like it. But you two are as close to married as you get, and you don’t know what this might… do.”
That last word stumbles out of my mouth awkwardly, because Landon’s girlfriend has stepped right up into my space, our chests brushing. Her breath tickles me, and her lips ghost the shell of my ear as she whispers, “Spoiler alert. We’ve done this before.”
My eyes flutter and then find their way to Landon. He’s standing a foot away, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at me under a million sand-colored lashes. He’s so fucking hot. “You’ve done this before?”
“Once,” he says quickly.
“And you would… do it again?” My voice sounds thick, yet shaky at the same time.
He looks me dead in the eye. “With you? Yeah.”
Well, how the hell do I say no to my one shot with my straight fantasy? I don’t.
Angela must see the barriers collapsing because she leans into my ear again, and this time she kisses it softly before saying, “One time. No strings. No hard feelings. But hard… everything else.”
She brushes a palm across the front of my pants.
What she feels puts a devilish smile on her lips.
She kisses me lightly on my jaw. I can barely feel it through the beard.
Then she reaches out with a hand, twists Landon’s shirt between her fingers, and pulls him toward us.
My eyes are locked with his, and I swear to god I see desire sparking in them.
But he roughly whispers, “Inside. Now. I know half this town, not to mention my aunt and uncle live next door.”
Angie takes the key and opens the front door. No one left any lights on, so it’s dark. Angela starts walking backward toward their first-floor bedroom, and she’s pulling Landon with her.
My shoes are glued to the pine floor, my eyes are stuck on them.
My brain is in free-fall, the proverbial devil and angel on my shoulders are fighting it out like they’re in an MMA championship cage match.
And my dick is as solid as concrete and screaming for release.
But I wonder, if I don’t move, if they’ll stumble off into their bedroom and forget all about me. Maybe that’s what should happen.
But it doesn’t. A step before I’m out of their reach, Landon’s arm lifts, and his hand wraps around my wrist. And now he’s pulling me toward the bedroom too.
The minute I feel his strong hand’s firm grip around my wrist, the devil on my shoulder delivers a crushing roundhouse kick to the angel telling me to stop this madness.
And then I willingly follow them into their bedroom.