“If I remember correctly,” she raises a challenging eyebrow as she moves closer, “youliked to tell me you did the same thing while thinking of my boobs.”
I grin at the fond memory. “I couldn't help it. Sometimes, they'd be hanging out and making me think about all the things I'd like to do to them. Or on them.”
Her hand slips behind my neck as she tugs my face down to hers. “I would let you do anything you wanted to them right now, but you don't want to take a shower with me.”
Groaning, I say, “Still the biggest tease I know,” before kissing her.
She laughs against my mouth, and all the anger I felt toward her—misplaced anger—fades into the background.
Anger that she didn't choose me when she needed help paying for the car repair.
Anger that she blamed me for never having a moment alone with Cash when they obviously spent time going to parties without me.
Anger that they had years together before me. Real, messy, first love history.
History that scares the shit out of me.
“A shower could be fun,” she mumbles against my mouth as the bathroom door squeaks open.
My lips slide to her ear and I whisper, “Tempting, but no.”
“Well,” Cash awkwardly says as he throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Do we need to talk about that or...”
The fact that he was masturbating to a blond that looks eerily similar to Ingrid? Yeah, let’s talk about how that pisses me the fuck off.
At this point, I'd like to bash his face if I'm being honest.
But I keep those vengeful thoughts to myself and say, “Keep it to the shower from now on.”
“Will do,” Cash agrees quickly.
Ingrid shifts from one foot to the other, and I just know she's going to say something she shouldn't.
“So,” she begins, “are we ever going to talk about this mystery girl you’re texting?”
“She's not a mystery.” Cash waves her off as he plops onto his bed.
“Do you have a picture of her?” Ingrid asks. “I don't think I even know her name.”
Cash runs a hand through his hair. The same hand he was just spanking the monkey with.
“Her name is Britta,” Cash reluctantly says.
“Can I see a picture of her?” Ingrid crosses her arms over her chest. I can't get a read on why she wants to see what Cash's pen pal looks like.
“Uh, yeah,” Cash says as he grabs his cell phone.
Ingrid tilts her head to the side as she studies him.
I don't bother looking at the photo on the screen as Cash holds it up.
I watch her.
“Brunette?” Ingrid raises her eyebrows slightly.
“Yep,” Cash replies.
“She looks nice,” Ingrid says.
