Another gulp of my float cools my insides but doesn’t kill my desire to rush home. I’ve never felt this kind of pull toward a woman. It needs to stop. I press two fingers against the skin between my eyebrows and take a deep breath. When I open them again, two sets of eyes stare back, except the big one is eating my fries.
“She has your phone number,” Lars mumbles between chomps. “This is serious.”
“Who said that was Bree?”
“Jason, accept it. You like her more than you want to. Plus, she obviously sent you something hot,” the black-haired mage adds.
“And you liked it very much. She’s right, you might as well let it happen at this point,” agrees the gargantuan food thief who’s now eating the rest of my burger.
“Okay, Dr. Phil and Dr. Joyce, I’m getting ready to head out since you two seem incapable of leaving my office.”
Shrugging, Lars tucks my food closer to his side of the desk. I watch as he plucks the straw out of my float, tosses it, and begins to drink out of the cup.
“It needs more Root Beer,” he informs a scoffing Gloria.
“You are no help, Lars.” She stares at him with her hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
“I am. I’m helping him eat his feelings. That way, he won’t be too tired to fuck his girlfriend once they make it official.”
I get my ass out of my office before they can continue their intervention. I don’t need help to sort through my emotions. I’ve only known of Bree’s existence for less than two weeks. Hopping in my truck, I try to ignore the text that’s beckoning me to look at it once more. I shove the key in the ignition, although I’m unsure of the designation, and rev the engine. But, like an addict needing a fix, I fold. Opening my texts, I stare at the picture of Bree lying on her side with my jacket partially covering her nudity. I trace the outline of her delicious tits as they disappear before I can see some nipple. Her leg is bent to cover the part of her that’s kept me awake at night.
I drop the phone in my passenger seat and drive forward. I refuse to take the bait. I’m stuck at a light and it feels like I’m making an important life decision—left for the unknown, right for Bree. My brain yells ‘go left, ignore the text, and she’ll get the picture.’ Some fucking part of me that I didn’t know existed argues that ignoring her would hurt her feelings.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck,” I complain as I hit my steering wheel. “Who am I kidding?”
I hit the talk button.
“Hello?” Bree answers, her voice instantly making my dick hard.
I get straight to the point. “That’s the behavior of someone looking to get fucked.”
“Good because that’s the goal.”
I bite my fist because she’s killing me.
“How did you find yourself wearing nothing but my jacket?” My voice betrays me. I’m aroused, and she knows it.
“I found it and draped it on the back of my sofa, thinking you’d return for it. Today, I laid down on the couch, and your jacket fell on my face. I was suddenly surrounded by your scent and instantly wet.”
I love and hate how matter-of-fact she is with me. Yes, her words make my dick twitch in my jeans, but this is Bree simply stating what’s in her head.
“I’m on my way. You better be just like that.”
It’s not long until I’m pulling into our shared driveway, ready to pounce and work out some of this frustration in my body.
Bree: The door is unlocked.
My adrenaline spikes. I don’t know how I did it, but I’m in her house, my keys are on the counter, my shoes are off, and my pants are undone by the time I find her standing in the living room. Part of me feels contentment to see her, and the other part feels relief when I grab her. I crush her plush lips with mine, I wonder how I was able to last three days without it. I hate to admit it, but I love kissing Bree. I moan because I’m giving in to a craving I’ve been trying to avoid. It feels oh-so-right.
I have Bree perched on the back of her couch in seconds; I’m between her legs, and my jeans are at my ankles.
“Take out my dick,” I order between neck kisses. I grunt when I feel her soft hand around my heated flesh. “This is a freebie.”
“A what?” she moans because my tongue reunited with her nipples.
“This doesn’t go toward my count.”
“It doesn’t?”
