Mustering my best innocent voice, I ask, “Why?”
“I can’t be fucking late.”
“Then don’t be late.”
I close the drawer and fetch the maple syrup, which was in plain sight on the counter the entire time. “You look a little tense, wombat,” I tease, handing him the bottle. The wombat joke is still going strong, and I think that every time I use it, it becomes a little more serious. I’m still grinning when I suggest, “Maybe you should try meditation.”
“Next time you flash me your cunt, you’re getting a spanking. That’ll relax me.”
“And you think that’s a threat?” I chortle.
“A spanking is nothing like the occasional slap on the bum, red. A proper one will remind you how much of a bad girl you’ve been every time you sit down for the next two days.”
He walked right into that one, so I don’t have any remorse when I grab his hand and slip it between my legs under his T-shirt I’m wearing. Like he can’t help himself, he cups my intimacy. “I already will,” I rasp, stretching up to take his lips.
His groan lands on my tongue, and he devours me with ravenous intensity. If the kiss he gives me is any indication, it’ll be fast and hard. He’ll leave me with weak legs and a pulse beating in my core, and I’ll love every brief minute of it.
Two of his thick and tattooed fingers are deeply shoved into me, fucking me, preparing me for his dick, when we both hear the latch of the main door being undone.
What the—
We separate just as I hear the door opening. I scramble to readjust myself, but there isn’t much to set right. I’m naked under the shirt, and Jake’s in his damn underwear. Footsteps come in, and I try to think past the anxiety. Only three people have the key to my apartment. The concierge, Hana, and—
“Gen?” a masculine voice asks from the entrance.
Edward.
I give Jake a panicked look. This can go wrong in a hundred different ways. Before I can say anything, Eddie comes into view, scanning the room for me. When they land on their goal, his eyes go huge with shock. Understandably, he didn’t expect to find me half-naked in my kitchen with an even more naked man who’s covered in tattoos and twice my weight in hard-earned muscles.
All three of us say nothing for a few seconds, staring in utter silence. This has got to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever been through. And I’ve been through a lot.
Jake’s the first one to do something, clearing his throat and leaning back on the counter behind him, crossing his powerful arms over his broad chest. When I look up at him, I swear he’s holding back a proud little smirk. Clearly, he doesn’t mind Eddie finding us like this.
When I turn to my ex again, none of the shock has dissipated from his face. It’s as though he’s frozen. “Edward, wha-what are you doing here?” I stammer.
“I need my tuxedo.”
“So you just let yourself in?”
“I sent you texts. Like, twenty. And I tried to call.” His attention latches back to Jake, who’s still silently observing the scene as it unfolds. “You’re that Jack guy from the gallery.”
It’s a statement, not a question. But the half-naked man beside me still feels compelled to say something. “Jake. Glad to see you remembered me this time, Edward the Third,” he taunts.
“Are you two…”
Jake barely holds back a snort. “Does it look like I’m her personal chef, mate?”
The confusion on Eddie’s features is slowly turning into anger and frustration. “Gen, is that the man from the other day? The one who drove you to work on his bike?”
Before I can answer, Jake replies, “You’re smarter than I reckoned. I am that bloke, yes.”
Understandably, Jake’s patronizing tone doesn’t sit well with Eddie, who now looks enraged. But my ex is good at containing strong emotions, so he takes a couple of breaths and forces himself to look away.
“I’ll go get my tux and leave,” he dryly says.
I consider holding him back, but I can’t think of a good reason why. The sooner he leaves, the better. So I watch, disoriented, while he heads to the bedroom we shared for four years.
With evident amusement, Jake says, “Oh, he’s going to love what we did to your bed.”
