Ryan chuckles. “The man’s been in love with you for years. Hearing someone say that shit to you would have fired anyone up, let alone someone like Jim. If anyonedaredto say that to Lainey…” He looks lovingly at my best friend, reaching over to graze a knuckle over her cheek. “Let’s just say I would have had the same reaction as Jim, but I wouldn’t have stopped.”
My ears perk up at the mention of love, and memories return in waves, the night Jim and I were having sex and he murmured in my ear that he’s wanted this for years. “What do you mean, years? I first remember meeting him after you guys got engaged.”
“Do you remember the night Lainey and I first met? You, her, and Jenna were at Lasso's, drunk enough to try to ride the mechanical bull?”
I nod, wracking my brain of the memory. We definitely had too much to drink that night. I remember bits and pieces of the bull ride that led to Lainey’s dress mishap. I remember rushing to the bathroom thinking I was going to puke up cheap tequila, and we left shortly after with Lainey wearing a stranger’s sweatshirt. That was nearly three years ago, I think. The whole memory is hazy, for many reasons. “I faintly remember her pointing you out, but I don’t remember Jim at all.”
He nods along. “You wouldn’t, but he saw you. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, to the point that he figured you were way out of his league. I believe his exact words were something like…‘a woman like you’ would ruin him.”
Lainey stirs, rolling over on her back and stretching her arms over her head. When she peeks an eye open and she sees Ryan at her feet, her face breaks out in a smile. She moves to crawl into his lap, curling into a ball with her head against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, planting a kiss to the top of her head.
“When you love someone, you’d do anything for them. Even settling just to be their friend. Jim was desperate for you to even realize he was alive. He hoped for more, but was willing to take whatever he could get.”
I rub at the center of my chest, hoping the tequila doesn’t come back up to haunt me. And now I’m kicking myself. Kicking myself for not taking the time to hear Jim out, for even thinking he’d have an ounce of bad intentions, and definitely kicking myself for leaving my phone at home. “Ugh.” I roll back onto the couch, pulling at a stray pillow to slap it over my face. “Did I just fuck this all up?
Ryan scoffs, standing from the couch with Lainey in his arms. He shifts to adjust her position, and she wraps her armsaround his neck. He steps carefully across the coffee table, likely bringing her back to their bedroom. “You can’t scare Jim off that easily,” he calls over his shoulder. “Give him some credit. Call him in the morning, tell him you’re sorry and you love him and you want to have sex. Problem solved.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Itwist my neck side to side under the hot spray, hoping the steam can eviscerate the tequila straight from my veins.
Never again will I trust Lainey to mix a drink for me. My guess is she’s feeling twice as bad as I am, considering she’s one third of my size.
The night spent on their couch leaves my body aching for more sleep. Once the sunlight came through the window and heat burned my hungover, sleeping skin, I couldn’t spend another second sweating against the gray suede. I scratched a goodbye note to Lainey and Ryan and forced myself to drive home.
Once I safely made it past my front door, the first thing I did was reach for my phone to call Jim. It went to voicemail, and I’ve told myself repeatedly for the last ten minutes that he’s likely still sleeping. Or maybe at the gym.
I’m trying to not panic at the thought that he might be ignoring me. Pissed off at me for being pissed off at him.
I won’t apologize for being mad that he lied. Or kept a secret, lied by omission, whatever it was. But damn, if I don’t feel like an absolute asshole for not hearing his side of the story. Forthrowing him off of my property as if he was no better than Marcus.
I need to talk to Jim. But first, I need to reverse this hangover.
Possibly a strong cup of coffee.
Or maybe a really long nap.
No, what I really need is an orgasm.
And luckily the battery-operated boyfriend in my nightstand drawer has never once left me hanging.
With a quick slap of my hand I shut the water off before reaching out to grab a towel from the nearby hook. I quickly dry my body, using the towel to squeeze the excess water from my hair before twisting the wet locks up into a bun on the top of my head. I wrap my bathrobe around myself for the short walk to my bedroom, but once I safely cross the threshold and shut the door, the robe pools at my feet. I crawl into bed, falling head first into my pillows, groaning at how comfortable everything feels.
I lay there for a moment, half dozing when I remember the reason I came into my bedroom in the first place. Opening up my bedside drawer, I pull out my trusty purple boyfriend. I roll over, adjusting the pillows behind me and exhaling deeply to encourage my body to relax as I close my eyes, reaching to twist the base of my toy.
The vibration tickles my hand as a soft buzzing fills the room, and I wait.
Wait for some sort of sexy thought to enter my mind. My go-to fantasy is usually anything that involves Jim, but now, when I picture his face, my heart aches. I don’t want a stupid plastic toy to do the job, and I don’t want to go on pretending that I’m okay on my own.
And most importantly, I don’t want to go on only getting pieces of him and giving bits of myself in return. I want him, and I want it all.
“Goddamnit.”
I toss the toy onto the bedding next to me, aggravated as hell. At Jim. At myself for falling in love and not having a clue what to do with these feelings.
Rolling over, I pull the sheets and comforter with me as I cocoon in, ready to try the nap cure, when the faint sound of my phone ringing sounds from down the hall.
I’m flying out of bed, reaching to grab my discarded robe as I go, practically scampering down the hall as I wrap it around me. I grab my phone from the charger, my mood shifting when I see who’s actually calling.
