Block Shot (Hoops #2)(74)

But it certainly doesn’t hurt.

“Hey,” he says, filling the arched entrance to my living room. His hands are shoved into dark-wash jeans and a white Kerrington T-shirt stretches across the width of his chest. His hair is wildly tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it.

Or like I have.

“Hey.” I look at Quinn and then at the Popsicle in my hand. Anywhere but at him. It’s the first time we’ve been in the same room since what I’ve come to term as Deskageddon, where the world as I knew it ended.

An awkward silence encircles the three of us, and I’m not sure how to break it. Quinn knows what we did. Jared probably suspects I told her. Meanwhile I’m wrestling with a cacophony of emotions and sensations, ranging from guilt to turned on. I’ve never been an oversexed person. I enjoy sex but can always back burner it. It was one of the reasons a long-distance relationship worked so well for me and Zo. But Jared unleashes something wild inside of me. Something I’m not sure how to tame.

“Um, I should go,” Quinn says after a few seconds. She grabs her purse and clears her throat. “Good seeing you again, Jared.”

Peripherally I see him nod, but I feel him looking at me unwaveringly.

“We’ll touch base tomorrow, then, Banner.” Quinn sounds unnaturally bright. I look up and she widens her eyes meaningfully—her sign for OMG.

“Okay,” I say, rediscovering my vocal cords. “I’ll call AesThetics first thing in the morning. Thanks for coming by.”

The soft click of her leaving through the front door doesn’t mobilize me. I stare at the liquored ice in my hand, heedless of it melting and dripping between my fingers. I’m not sure what should happen next. My principles, my convictions, have always anchored me, made me certain of every step. They prescribed every step. Now that I’ve violated them so egregiously, I’m in a minefield, and any step I take may explode under my feet.

“You’re making a mess,” Jared says, walking over to take what’s left of the Popsicle and tosses it into the trash.

He takes my hand and slowly licks the icy, flavored vodka from my fingers. His tongue is like warm velvet making love to the delicate webbing between each digit. All the muscles below the belt clench. I’ll never see that tongue again without remembering how he lapped at what my body poured out for him. In the moment, it felt like perfection. But confessing it to Zo, it felt like sin. I snatch my hand away and finally look up at him. Concern crinkles the smooth lines of his face.

“What have you done to yourself?” He traces around my puffy eyes. “You’ve burst the blood vessels.”

I should have known. That happens whenever I cry too hard, but I haven’t cried this hard in a very long time. Maybe since the last time I cried over him. I pull back from his touch, and he drops his hand to his side. His concerned expression hardens like cement.

“So you told him?” he asks. “What happened?”

I walk away, needing space, and sit in the sleek leather recliner closest to the fireplace. I avoid the couch where I’ve perched all day because when Jared sits down, I don’t want it to be next to me. The man should come with a highly flammable tag, preferably near his cock.

“I told him, yeah.” I fiddle with the drawstring at the waist of my lounge pants.

He doesn’t respond and I glance up to see his attention fixed on the wall, dented, decorated with fake snowflakes, a pool of glass on the floor.

“He was upset,” I offer by way of explanation.

Jared frowns, his brows jerking together.

“He didn’t . . . touch you, hurt you?”

“Of course not,” I answer immediately. “He took his anger out on the wall, not on me.”

“I imagine he’d like to take it out on me, too,” Jared says, a rueful tilt to his mouth.

“I, uh . . . didn’t tell him who.”

A heartbeat of silence in which he continues to look at me, and I studiously avoid his stare.

“Why not?” he asks.

“You move in the same circles.” I shrug. “I didn’t think it was necessary, though he did want to know.”

“You should have told him. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Why do you say that?” I lift puzzled eyes and find him still fixed on me.

“Because it’s going to happen again,” he says huskily, casually like it should be self-evident. “And I want everyone to know.”

Breath rises from my chest in a slow push. I’m not sure if it’s anger, frustration.

Or worse, relief.

“I wasn’t sure if . . .” My fingers find their way back to the drawstring. “You didn’t call so I thought maybe . . .”

“Jesus, Ban,” he says softly but with intensity. “I call and text every day and you ignore me, so I give you space. I lie back as long as I can stand it so you can sort this shit out with Zo, and you assume I don’t want you? What the hell?”

Welcome to the female mind. Hope you enjoy your stay.

He crosses over to the recliner where I’m seated and takes my hand.

“Do you know why I came here tonight?” he asks, stroking the lifeline of my palm with the pad of his thumb.

“No,” I whisper and look up to find an emotion so naked on Jared’s face I almost don’t recognize him. “Why’d you come?”