Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(36)

“No means no,” Teddy says, raising his beer to me in a silent toast.

God, my friends are idiots.

Aubree chooses that moment to come inside from the balcony where she’s been chatting with the girls. Her hair is down, loose around her shoulders in soft waves, and she looks gorgeous. Memories of our last night together crash through me.

She tosses a flirty look my way, her eyes meeting mine with mischief, her lips parted with the hint of a smile. It’s the same kind of look she might make if she was in my lap riding my cock. My dick doesn’t fail to notice, hardening against my thigh without my permission.

I should feel like a shit for objectifying her. But who could blame me? My wife is hot as sin. Curves. Sass. Intelligence. She’s got it all.

My brain takes a sharp detour into the gutter, and I’m powerless to stop it. I shift my restless cock against my thigh, hoping I can get through the rest of the night without a string of filthy thoughts running rampant through my head.

We may not have come to the party together, but I’m going to make damn sure we leave it together.





13




* * *





Boy Toy





Aubree



Summer nights in Seattle don’t get much better than this. The breeze is gentle, the sun has just set, and for the first night in what feels like forever, all the girls are together. We’re lounging on the wicker patio furniture on Owen and Becca’s balcony, sipping beer and catching up on each other’s summers. It’s the kind of night that makes me wish I didn’t have the thought of leaving this city in just a few short months hanging over my head.

Elise mouths the words Are you okay? at me from across the balcony, and I nod, managing a smile.

I made the mistake of checking my work email today, something I normally try to avoid on weekends, and my mind hasn’t stopped wandering to the promotion my boss offered me since. It’s making it hard to just be present and enjoy this perfect, rare moment when it’s just us girls.

I shift in my seat, refocusing my attention on the conversation. How many nights like this do I have left before I leave?

Becca must be able to read minds or something, because seemingly out of the blue, she steers the conversation toward me. “How’s work been for you, Bree?”

“Same old, same old,” I lie, mindlessly picking the label off my second beer of the evening. I haven’t yet shared with my friends the slightly life-changing information that I won’t be living in Seattle much longer. Actually, I haven’t told anyone, unless you count my landlord when I failed to renew the apartment I’m living in for next year.

“Any big fundraising events coming up?” she asks.

I just shake my head. “Just meetings on top of meetings.” That part isn’t a lie. I’m just leaving out the exact details of said meetings.

The conversation veers toward a more interesting subject, Sara and Teddy’s recent trip to the Virgin Islands. As Sara recounts the details of snorkeling next to sea turtles, I nod along, throwing in the occasional Wow and Really? at the appropriate times.

But mentally, I’m in the midst of a panic spiral, playing out worst-case scenarios of how everyone will react when I break the news. My friends will be sad, of course, but proud of me. They know how much I love my job, and this opportunity is too good to pass up.

But what about Landon?

I’ve been ignoring the guilt pressing down on my chest anytime he mentions the future. But how much longer can I go on pretending that I’m not on a limited timeline here in Seattle? And what does that mean for our relationship?

Becca lets out a dramatic gasp, and I snap my head toward her, convinced this time that she actually can read minds. But it looks like the source of the shock is on her phone, which her wide eyes are locked on.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sara.” She gives our friend a quick apologetic look, then turns her head my way. “Bree, is Landon a virgin?”

My stomach does a backflip as everyone looks toward me expectantly. Oh, joy. The other secret I’ve been keeping from my friends.

“Um . . .” I swallow. “Who told you?”

“Owen. Landon just told the guys.” Becca taps one pink manicured nail against her phone screen.

“And he already texted you?”

Her smile is proud, maybe even a little smug. “We tell each other everything.”

“Everything?” A challenging grin twitches across my lips. “Did he tell you about the time he lost in laser tag to a six-year-old girl?”

“No changing the subject,” Sara says, wagging a finger, going total lawyer-mode on me. “Confirm or deny—Lovey still has his V-card.”

I sigh. Now that it’s out in the open, there’s no use lying. “Confirm.”

Before I can get in another word, my friends launch into a full-blown freak-out, gasping and chattering loud enough to warrant a noise complaint from the neighbors. You’d think I told them that my husband is from outer space.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sara asks, her voice as sharp as I imagine it is in the courtroom.

“It didn’t seem like my information to give out. It’s not really the kind of thing I could blurt out over brunch. Oh, these eggs taste good. And, by the way, my husband is a virgin.”