Mended (Connections, #3)(30)

My fist pumps at a quicker pace and I lick the water from my lips. The pressure wells deep and a tingling radiates from my cock. As my orgasm starts to build, so do the contractions—it feels like electricity is shooting through me. My dick twitches and I can’t hold on any longer. As I start to come, practically spasming, the incredible feeling builds and I finally let myself go, crossing that threshold over and over until I’m spent. My chest rises and falls and I slouch back against the shower wall.

Once my breathing returns to normal, I lather up with soap, rinse it off, and get out of the shower. I don’t bother to shave. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I wipe the steam from the mirror. The ink on my side was always the hope for my future, but I f*cked it up because I never went after it. Hazel eyes and brown hair reflect back and I try to see my life differently from what it really is—I’m thirty f*cking years old and I have nothing—nothing that matters, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I attempt to shake off the morning. I print out the daily schedule and post it, then head over to get a cup of coffee. Nix and Garrett sit in comfortable silence in the lounge. Nix is reading the paper and Garrett is eating something that resembles nachos.

“Want some? There’s plenty,” Garrett says, crunching a chip.

“No, thanks. That looks disgusting. What is it?”

“It’s classic is what it is—a can of chili con carne, a jar of nacho sauce, and a bag of chips.”

I pour a cup of the coffee that looks like sludge. “Flynn, your eating habits need some serious help.”

“Hey, watch out—the next time you’re craving my pizza, I might just tell you to make it yourself.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Remind me again when I ever asked you to take a stale-looking hunk of bread and slap a jar of sauce on it?”

He just grins at me and crunches another chip. I take my coffee and stumble blurry-eyed into the back lounge to catch ESPN. Leif’s in there, and he looks me over.

“Rough night?” he asks.

I rub my hand over my stubble. “Just ready to get off this bus.”

He’s in the club chair, twirling while watching TV. “I know the feeling. Want to play some ball?”

Since my mind is shot and I can’t do any work right now . . . “Why not?”

An hour later, I’m killing him. I’ve always been a competitive guy. I don’t f*ck around . . . video game or real game, it’s all the same. When my team is beating his, 95 to 72, I yell, “Yeah!” and pump my fist in the air.

He sets the controller down. “Bastard! I’m done.”

“Yes, you are—you sad son of a bitch. You lost! Rematch?”

Shaking his hand, he says, “No f*cking way. Are we almost there?”

I glance at my watch and see it’s a little before three. “John said we’d be there before five. What’s your rush?”

“Just wish there were chicks on this bus so I could get a handy while we wait.”

Unable to believe his candor, I have to laugh. “What about that girl of yours you’re always talking on the phone with?”

“She dumped my ass.”

“That’s why you’ve been so punchy. Makes sense now.”

“Yeah, but tonight I’m not only getting stone drunk, you can bet I’ll be taking as many BJs as are offered my way.”

“Why did she break it off?”

“My girl?”

I grin at him. “I’m not talking about your dick.”

“Fuck you,” he says.

Leif and I have really hit it off and I enjoy having him around.

“No, really, what happened?” I ask.

“She’s pissed that I’m on the same bus as Ivy.”

This piques my interest. “Why? Do the two of you have something going on?”

“Fuck, no. She’s like my sister.”

“Did you explain that to your girl?”

“Man, I’ve talked about it so much that last night after another fight, I was over it and just said fine, believe what you want. You want to believe I’d cheat, believe it.”

“No, he’s definitely not the cheater,” Ivy chimes in. She’s standing behind my chair and I whirl around. Her words assault me and her eyes flash to me in an accusatory manner, but the moment passes quickly. She moves next to Leif and picks up his controller, then adds, “Just give her some time and then call her back—she knows you’re not the kind of guy who’d cheat.” She tips her head to the side and Leif moves out of the chair. She flops down in it and when she does her knee grazes mine, and every muscle in my body clenches. I want that two seconds of contact to happen over and over. She looks at me. “Go for the championship?”

I quickly focus my eyes on the TV. “Bring it, baby.” The word baby slips out. Ivy remains still for a moment, but Leif doesn’t seem to notice.

With the Lakers just catching their stride, Garrett, in all his annoyance, stands in front of me. “Hey, why don’t you make like Michael Jackson and beat it? My turn.”

“Beat it yourself, asswipe. We’re not in elementary school.”

“Right! So take your loss like a man and move on out so a real player can beat a chick,” he says, snatching the remote from me.