Second, I’d convinced myself Javier’s been exaggerating his affection for my body, but the way he lit up when he saw Colt made me dig my fingernails into my palms with jealousy.
Colt is taller, broader, and has a way larger belly than I do. This led to a bonkers moment of feeling deeply inadequate in the belly department until I remembered how he palmed my tiny belly, calling it perfect as he kissed it over and over the one hot night we were together.
Not that I need his approval.
I may have been spying on them when Warwick walked up and gripped Javier’s shoulder while inviting him to the Rebel Sky bunkhouse for “a little extracurricular fun.” Joaquin joined the conversation, eyeballing my man like he had the right.
A weird sort of strangled sound came out of my throat. Javier turned, quirking his lips at me. Whether that influenced him or not, he smoothly rejected the trio’s advances, thanking them for the opportunity.
Fuckingthankedthem.
After that, he basically ignored me for the rest of the evening, and I stewed in my own juices. I know what he’s doing. I can totally see it from a mile away. He’s driving me insane, hoping I’ll lose my composure and throw myself at him.
I slept in my trailer again last night. Because it’s my house and where I’m planning to live full-time. And not because I didn’t trust myself to resist sneaking into Javier’s room and impaling myself on his stupidly massive cock.
Gotta be honest, as he drives up to my trailer in his little beater truck, I have a hard time convincing myself I made the right choice last night.
“Buenos dias, chulo,” he says, holding up a Thermos of coffee.
Good morning, cutie.
This. Fucking. Guy.
“You are theworst,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as if I could possibly protect my heart.
He looks down at himself, confused. “How am I the worst? I’m showing up here early in the morning, helping you with your deck. For free. According to my calculations, that makes me the best.”
Javier’s pleased self-important smile kills me. It’s clear he has demons, which is way too fucking sexy—yes, I’m a therapist. Yes, I know it’s not right—but his self-confidence is intoxicating.
He hands me a paper cup for the coffee, and I take it with a disgruntled expression. The coffee is, of course, perfectly brewed, sugared, and creamed.
“Fine. But you’re just okay. Not a jot more.”
“I do not know this wordjot.”
“It means the tiniest, smallest, most insignificant amount,” I say, holding my thumb and forefinger barely a millimeter apart to demonstrate my feelings on the matter. “You’re not even a tiny bit better thanjustokay.”
Scratching his beard, he smiles broadly as he imitates the tiny gesture. “Are you sure you don’t mean this much?” he asks, expanding the gesture to both hands, approximating—rather accurately—his impressive…whatever.
I scowl, and he sets his cup on the hood of his truck. He then takes my cup, sets it next to his, and pulls me close. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kisses my forehead.
“Just okay, huh?”
“You ignored me last night.”
“You stalked me last night.”
“I wasn’t stalking you. I only happened to be there when Warwick and team invited you to the Rebel Sky sex dungeon.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a bunkhouse, not a sex dungeon. Also, since you were spying on me, I know you saw me reject their advances.”
“Sure. Though…who knows what you did after dinner.”
I grimace as soon as the jealous words leave my mouth. I’m not allowed to be jealous because this is fucking casual.
Was fucking casual.
Gah.
