“Don’t you know?” Dillan props her hand on her hip. “We’re going to be your new best friends.”
Oh. Hell. No.
“Finn. Honestly. Your cousins are a little scary. I haven’t had real girlfriends in like, ten years,” or maybe ever, I rant to him over the phone, once I’m back home and pacing around the house with Kyrie on my hip, trying to calm her down.
Why is six o’clock the freaking witching hour for this kid?
“I felt like I was in thatStepbrothersmovie you love. They basically informed me we were going to be best friends, and that they were bringing book club to me, and they want me to meet them for brunch tomorrow. I don’t do brunch.”
I don’t think I’ve ever done brunch.
“Ashton,” he stops me when I finally take a breath. “Slow down. My cousins are great. I bet you’ll actually like them, if you give them a chance. You should meet them for brunch.”
“Why would they even want me to go? They don’t know me.” My mind flies in a million directions, none of them with good outcomes.
“Because they’re good people who know what it’s like to be put in less than ideal situations. Or maybe because they’re both strong women who were raised by strong women and who know when a good person needs a little kindness, you offer it.”
“Finnegan Murphy—I swear to God, if you told your cousins to?—”
“I didn’t,” he assures me. “They know you’re living here. They know you’ve taken custody of Kyrie. My family is a big old bunch of gossip whores, so whatever else they know, I have no control over. But the girls are awesome. Go to brunch. Make some friends. If I wasn’t going to be at the hospital, I’d crash your date and go with you guys.”
“I’m not good at girlfriends,” I admit sheepishly.
“I’m not so sure they are either.” The background noise gets louder, and I hear an announcement over the hospital’s PAsystem. “I’ll bet if you ask Jamie or Ryker, one of them would watch Kyrie for you.”
“No,” I snap, unwilling to have this fight with him again “I can bring her with me.”
“That’s my girl. Yank those big panties up and go on a girl date,” he tells me, and I swear if he were standing here, I’d shove him.
“A—my panties are not big. You’re supposed to saybig girl panties, not big panties, you moron. And B—it’s not a date, it’s brunch. You might be the book-smart one, Finn, but your social skills are seriously lacking.”
“You still love me,” he claps back, and I don’t need to be standing in front of him to know he’s smiling when he says it. “Kiss Kyrie for me. I’ll see you later.”
“Finnegan . . .” I whisper.
“Yeah, Ash?”
“Thanks for telling your cousins to stop by.” I hate knowing I’m so damn needy, but it was a really nice thing for him to do.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t.”
“Whatever you say.” I smile and end the call.
JAMIE
If you ever said I’ll do that when hell freezes over, I’ve got bad news for you... looks like it’s happening this weekend. Hope your words taste good, boys, because you’re about to eat them.
—Advice from Aiden to Jamie and Finn
Jacking off in my shower to the memory of being with Ashton has become part of my daily fucking routine. Because apparently, that’s what happens once you’ve had your dream girl for one night and then let her go...And then told her to move in with you, knowing you can’t fucking touch her. You go from being an average adult male with a somewhat active, healthy sex life, to a man reduced to fantasizing about the woman you’ve fantasized about since you were seventeen years old.
Which, in my case, means you jack off.A. Lot.
Do I desperately want to fuck Ashton Carmichael again?
Undeniably, yes. Yes, I do.
Do I want to stuff that sweet cunt full of my fingers, suck her pretty little clit between my teeth, and watch as her tits bounce while she rides my cock, screaming my name until her voice is hoarse again?
