The grunting from Gavin’s room crescendos and quickly fades into whispered conversations.They’ll be finished soon, basking in their fragile afterglow.
Weak.
Gavin’s indulgence makes him utterly useless.
I remain seated, slipping the phone into my pocket.If I want something done right, it always comes down to me.Dove is mine to watch, and Gavin was a temporary solution.
The bedroom door opens, spilling soft light and whispered laughter into the hallway.Footsteps approach, and Gavin appears in the kitchen doorway, shirtless and flushed, his eyes widening when he spots me sitting in the dark.
“Send your hookup home,” I say for his ears only.
His face reddens because he knows he fucked up.After an awkward hesitation, he hurries back into the bedroom.
Murmurs float through the door, followed by rustling clothes and the shuffle of feet.
Moments later, Gavin reappears, ushering a man toward the front door.The stranger leaves without noticing me.
Gavin closes the door, lingering there a minute, visibly bracing himself before turning to face me again.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers, marching into the kitchen.“Let me explain.”
“You did the one thing I told you not to do.”
“I… I…”
“You told her about our arrangement.”
“Fuck, Jag.I tried.I did everything you said.But I missed you.You weren’t answering my calls.I haven’t spoken to you in months.Don’t you get it?I’m in love with you.”
“Were you in love with me while getting rammed ten minutes ago?”
“I know how it looks.”He winces.“It was just a little NSA fun.It meant nothing.”
“It’s been less than a day since your wedding to my sister was canceled.”
“She canceled it!I begged her to stay, but you know how she is.Impossible to control, emotionally withdrawn…” He throws a hand out, gesturing helplessly.“It’s like talking to a wall.”
Hard to argue.But more than that, she’s fiercely self-reliant, crazy smart, and possesses an unbending moral code.
“You fucked up,” I say calmly, rising to my full height.I step close enough to smell the sex on his body.
“I’ll make it up to you.”His lashes lower as he tentatively reaches out, trailing a finger down my chest.
He was a terrible fucking lay, tedious and quick to finish.Every encounter with him was a chore, one I’m happy never to repeat.
I already emptied his bank accounts and took back every penny I gave him.There’s just one thing left to do.
His gaze follows the path of his finger, down, down, down to my zipper.Then he gasps.“What happened to your hand?”
“Smashed a mirror.”
“I’m sorry.I know you’re angry.”
“My broken wrist has fuck all to do with you.”
“Oh.Okay.Well, let me take your mind off it.”He lowers to his knees and rubs the front of my pants.
As if he has any chance in hell of charming the cobra.The only thing that will make me hard right now is his last breath.
