Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(27)

Me: Nah. If you think it's rough now, think about how bad it would be if I had stayed.

There would have been no leaving. Not me. And there was no way in hell I'd let her leave either. I had to go that night. My sanity could only take so much.

What am I getting myself into? This is going to get way worse.

Honeybee: Guess you're right.

Me: I think we should be friends. Real friends.

I knew my terminology was all wrong; by friends I meant lovers. I wanted to be more, but I had to see where her head was. I couldn't go balls-in if she was only looking for a fling on the side. My gut said that wasn’t it, but I barely knew her. She had a boyfriend.

Still did.

Honeybee: I don't know.

Me: Well you can't stop me. You're my friend now. You'll have to block my number or something. I'm hanging around.

I thought while the silence screamed at me how big of a fool I was being. I sounded like some lame fifteen-year-old sending letters through neighboring classmates in homeroom. Do you like me? Yes or no. It felt like my only in. My only way to be near her. For now.

Me: Let's go back to where you couldn't stop thinking about me.

Honeybee: See!!! Friends don't say that.

Me: What do they say?

Honeybee: They say pleasant things like. Have a good day. What did you have for lunch? Things like that.

Me: It would have been a real good day if I'd had you for lunch.

I sent that one before I had the better sense to delete it. It was too easy and fun riling her up.

Honeybee: I might block you.

Me: No you won't. You can't get enough of me

Honeybee: Neither can what's her name.

She sounded jealous. A rational person would pacify her. A rational person would want to make her feel better and reassure her. But her having a boyfriend made me irrational and misery loves company.

Me: Who? Aly? I know. She's called twice already in the past twenty minutes.

Honeybee: I'm sure she has. Listen, friend, I have to get up early. I'll let you know how it goes. Tell Aly hi for me. Goodnight.

For a girl with a steady boyfriend, she sure did like the chase. Maybe I'd let her chase me for a little while. It was my best option. After all, I opened the door by texting her. And as much fun as it sounds grabbing her by the hair and dragging her through it, it would feel much more rewarding when she crawled through on her own. I just had to play the game she wanted to play.

Being forward didn't get her attention, but being cool did.

I'd be the coolest motherf*cker around.

Me: Nite, Betty.



She didn't respond after that, I didn't think she would. I hoped she was stewing over it. I hoped she was uncomfortable and irritated. That's how I felt.

I put my phone on the charger and turned it off, ensuring I wouldn't keep stoking a fire I hoped I'd set. I didn’t want to be a flash flame. I wanted to be a slow burn. I wanted to heat her from the inside out. And as I stood there alone in my hotel room, I thought about that night.

With my hands on the bathroom counter and my head hanging, I closed my eyes and remembered what it was like being between her legs. The way she smelled like jasmine and a fresh shower. Her lips were minty, but I could still taste the lingering bourbon on her silky tongue.

I didn't have to look. I knew I was as hard as the granite holding me up. So, I did what I did nearly every night since the one at Hook Line and Sinker, ripped off my clothes, set the shower to cold and climbed in.

I wasn't proud of the fact that I'd had plenty of opportunities to get laid and passed them up for yanking myself in a cold shower. But there I was. Again. One arm up on the wall and a fist around my stupid cock. Every pull I fought for the feeling of her wrapped around me. With every flex of my grip, I pictured her head thrown back against the pillow. I could hear her moans; I could see the flash of honest passion in her eyes.

Then I'd come and felt no better for having done it. Sometimes I'd go at myself again and others, like that night, I'd let my dick suffer for making me victim to reliving the night I couldn't forget.



My flight home was early the next morning, I didn't sleep well but that was nothing new. I decided that since my mom lived so close to the airport it would be a good time to pop in and say hello. Yeah, I was a momma's boy.

My feet shuffled up her driveway after stopping at her mailbox and getting her mail. I read her name, Deb Moore, and wondered why she never changed it after my father and her divorced. If I were a woman, the second my marital status changed my name would, too. Especially if the jerk ran off with a woman ten years younger, like my dad had.