It was not like Rosalie to miss breakfast, usually she came out the second she smelled coffee.
I felt twitchy, irritable, like I couldn’t settle, and Dolly squeaking and fluttering around beside me was not helping matters.
I was just about to suggest knocking on her door, when it finally opened and Rosalie came out.
She was wearing a baggy old T-shirt and little boy shorts, running a hand through her long dark hair. It was that dark true-blue black, such a startling contrast against the slight sunburn on her cheeks.
It was classic Rosalie to look hotter than everyone else in just a ratty shirt.
She was looking down at her phone, stretching those elegant dancer’s legs and I shifted in annoyance in my chair as I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. My cock was twitching, banging against my thighs.
Just like this little brat to look as hot as shit.
Fuck, she needed to stop being pissed at me.
My hands tightened on my jeans as my eyes dragged down her body.
One finger absently touched her lips, always so pink and plump, and today they looked more swollen than ever.
I remembered how she looked on her knees in front of me, her mouth with those plush lips wrapped around my cock.
Wait
I knew that look . . .
My eyes rose higher, where her perfectly applied eyeliner was smoky, smeared around her gray eyes and making her look even hotter.
Wait—that’s how she looked like when--but that was impossible?—
Then Matt came out of the door behind her, with a massive grin on his face, his big paws touching her shoulder gently, running down almost worshipfully to her waist.
The fuck?
And suddenly I was seeing red, bounding to my feet so fast I knocked over the table in front of me.
“Did you two fuck last night?”
I stalked over, rage filling me.
Oh, no, hell no, no thefuckthey didn’t--
Rosalie grabbed a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, so what? Thought I’d give this cornfed Iowa boy a chance. And it wasmorethan worth it.”
She stretched and yawned like a little cat as she looked over at me.
Like she couldn’t have cared less.
I felt sick to my stomach.
But Matt was beaming from ear to ear like he’d just won the Super Bowl. Like a fucking virgin who just tasted pussy for the first time.
He looked fucking pussy-whipped already.
Dickhead!
“What the fuck, man?” I growled, shoving him hard in the chest. “What happened to the bro code?”
