What? Is that what he thinks?
“No!” I insist, appalled at the very idea, at the same time Jamie declares, “Yup!”
I whip my head to Jamie and flash him an aggravated look. I know he’s trying to save me from my own stupidity, but this is about a man’s safety, and…well, I don’t want Chris to think I’m married. Because…lying is bad. Shuffling out of Jamie’s grasp, I take a step forward.
“No,” I clarify, shaking my head. “He’s just in town visiting from California.”
“Oh, my God. You threw away a perfectly good out,” Jamie grumbles and starts around me toward my car as though I’m a lost cause.
“And is…stillJamie,” I add with an awkward smile when I’m left facing Chris’ befuddled face.
His eyes narrow at Jamie like he’s piecing things together. When he looks back at me this time, it feels like I just got put on his dinner menu again.
“I’dlovea ride.”
I stand stock still, trying not to cum in my pants as I watch him turn on his heel and start toward my car. Chris, Jamie, and I all together in public, with Chris about to get in my car. Is this real?
“Rem,” Jamie whines next to my passenger door, arms hugging himself. “Unlock the car, will you? It’s freezing here.”
Right. I can’t just stand here having an out-of-body experience while his delicate California coast self and my ex-crush are waiting. Raising my key fob, I aim at my car and hit the unlock button on the remote. It chirps just as Chris approaches Jamie.
He reaches across Jamie for the passenger door handle. I watch my friend’s face morph into shock like someone just brought another cat into his home.
“Hey! Shotgun,” he demands, shuffling forward like he’s going to slip in through the now open door.
One of Chris’ big palms covers his face, though, pushing him away and making me nearly swallow my tongue on a delirious laugh as Jamie rears back from the unexpected move. Chris uses the opportunity to angle his big body in between Jamie and the opening, plopping down inside. His hungry gaze latches onto me again as he closes the door.
I snap my mouth shut when Jamie looks at me and huffs, "If he fucking calls mePajamiesagain, we're kicking his ass out while the vehicle's moving." Grumbling, he wrenches the back door open and folds himself inside like a pouting, overgrown child.
Jesus, what am I getting myself into?
As soon as I get behind the steering wheel and shut my door, the tension is evident. I’m partly to blame, unable to avoid noticing how Chris’ knees touch the dashboard of my car. His thick thighs are spread to accommodate his size. I haven’t felt thighs like that since…well, since his.
Pressing the ignition button, I don’t need to look over at him to know he’s watching me with that same loaded look from earlier. I want it to mean what I think it means and to follow Jamie’s ridiculous advice. Except, I don’t just want one night ofsex. I want…to talk. I want to hear about his life. I want to see his easy smile again and wonder if fifteen-years-later me can still be the cause of it. I’ll need to get his number if I plan to do that, but I don’t have the guts to ask for it in front of Jamie.
“Okay, I didn’t flee California to drive around all night,” Jamie drawls from the backseat. “Where are we taking you, Your Royal Highness? I’ve got a date with Remy’s spare room, which has the supreme luxury of being devoid of the sound of any of my nephews, and I plan to enjoy the shit out of it.”
He gave me an out earlier. I know that’s not what he’s trying to do now, but I see a new one and take it.
“Um, I can drop you at the house first,” I suggest as though I’m being a considerate friend without any selfish motives. “Is your place far, Chris?”
“Veryfar.”
Why did I look at him? Wrong move. That isdefinitelyeye-fucking.
I hope Jamie didn’t hear the little noise that just squeaked out of my throat. I nod and shift into drive.
“Let me guess,” Jamie mutters. “It’s in theCockholmneighborhood.”
Gritting my teeth, I apply more pressure to the accelerator. I need to drop my friend off at my house as soon as possible. It’s the right thing to do. Clearly, he needs some sleep to get over his grumpiness and jet lag.
The silence in the car has my nerves skittering. I have Chris Mightener in my car. We both have our clothes on. I’m a grown-ass man, not some starry-eyed college kid. I can do this.
“Do you think you’ll come back to the center for another treatment? There are other things we can try if the TENS therapy doesn’t work well enough.”
“Feeling adventurous?” he smirks, and my heart flips over in my chest at the suggestiveness of the comment.
“Just north of Dickadilly,” Jamie wagers, mumbling a new unhelpful zing about Chris’ address.
