Fortunately, my brother’s had the foresight to label anything he’s made specifically for Owen—who’s been doing a ton of nightshifts in the ED lately—so I steer clear of those containers and grab one that’s marked only with yesterday’s date. Peeking inside, I see it’s the pasta Blake was making when I got home yesterday.
My stomach growls as soon as I get a whiff of the tomato and basil sauce, and as I spoon some into a bowl I notice sliced olives and pieces of pancetta mixed in with the spiral pasta.
I really need to take Blake up on his offers of food more often; my brother’s clearly learned a ton of new skills since the last time we lived together.
I scarf the pasta down within minutes and place my bowl in the dishwasher before heading upstairs to get ready for bed.
I finally slide under the covers, letting out a soft moan of satisfaction as my head hits the pillow. I’m just reaching over to switch off the lamp on the nightstand when my phone buzzes with a text.
I let out a frustrated groan. “Fucking hell. Just ignore it, Damon.”
The phone buzzes again and my resolve to ignore it disappears. It could be Ava or Joel; what if one of my kids needs me and I’m not there because I’m too busy trying to avoid engaging in some weird insult-laden sexting thing with a guy only three years older than them?
Sexting?Jesus Christ. I mentally slap myself to shake that ridiculous thought loose. There has been no sexting between Jazz and me. There have been unsolicited texts full of taunts and innuendo, but that’s all it was and will ever be.
I sigh in resignation as I shift my hand away from the lamp, reaching for my phone instead. Even before I see the name on the screen I know I’ve made a huge mistake.
Jazz Grimsay
Did you miss me tonight dirty boy?
Did you actually do your job today? Or did you lock yourself in the bathroom again so you could fuck your hand?
I let out a groan of frustration, rubbing a hand through my hair. Why did I look at the text?
The last thing I need right now is to be reminded of how insanely far I went off the deep end yesterday. And I especially don’t need to remember anything from Jazz’s creepy ambush in the staff bathroom.
Apparently my cock disagrees, and that just makes me even more frustrated. I was supposed to put all this shit behind me.
A couple more texts come through and I grab at fistfuls of my hair in frustration as my entire body heats with a mix of dread and mortification.
Jazz Grimsay
Never mind, I already know. You didn’t even feel a twitch today, did you?
Because I wasn’t there
That’s a pure fucking coincidence. I’m not attracted to this cocky little shit. I’m not attracted to men in general, but this one? There’s just no fucking way.
Me
God, you’re so fucking full of yourself. I’m not attracted to you. You have nothing to do with this
Jazz Grimsay
I know you’re not attracted to me straight boy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t turn you on
Me
Bullshit
Jazz Grimsay
A dirty mouth for a dirty boy. Don’t you know it’s not polite to swear?
Someone’s a fan of hypocrisy…
Jesus, I don’t even know why I’m still reading these texts. I need to just put my phone down, turn off the light, and resign myself to a night of sexual frustration. Because there’s no way I’m fucking my hand until I come all over myself the way Jazz predicted I would in his texts this morning. And the way my cock’s been behaving lately, it doesn’t deserve any relief right now.
