Jolie’s ponytail whipped as she turned her head to look at Stina, still at a dead run. “It’s his last name.”
She blinked. She never considered that. It should shame her that she’d slept with a man and didn’t even know his real name.
“What’s his first then?”
“Jack.”
She fixed her gaze straight ahead and pushed through ten reps while trying to mesh the name with the man’s face. The carved features of a god didn’t totally go with the boy-next-door vibe of Jack.
Jolie jogged to a walk and then stopped. She crossed the gym to sit near Stina and picked up a set of light dumbbells.
For several minutes, neither spoke. Stina focused on her reps as Jolie worked through squats. The silence should have been comfortable, but Stina knew her friend—and she knew Jolie was thinking.
Never a good sign.
After three sets, Jolie set down the dumbbells and reached for her water bottle. “I see the way you and Rome dance around each other.”
Stina almost fell out of her seat. “We don’t dance around each other.”
Jolie took a big gulp. “Sure,” she drawled.
“That’s because we hate each other.” Stina pumped through ten more reps but barely finished, her shoulders were on fire.
Jolie shot her a look. “I don’t buy your story.”
“Of course you don’t. You spent how many years raising your siblings and trying to weed out their lies?”
Jolie lowered the bottle and cocked a hip. “No, really. I don’t think you and Rome hate each other. I think it’s the opposite.”
Stina let out a short laugh. “Not even a little.”
“So that thing I saw between you in the kitchen when you didn’t know I was there…that was hate?”
Heat climbed her throat. Damn traitorous body. She never did find out what horrible ancestor gave her the ability to blush. But she suspected it was her Puerto Rican father’s side because Ukrainians were too stoic to bother with blushing.
Of course Jolie noticed. Her eyes sparkled. “He wasreallyclose to you.”
The memory hit hard enough to make her grip the edge of the bench.
When Rome stepped into her space, bringing the scent of soap and mountain air that always seemed to cling to him…she battled not to throw herself at him.
When his voice scraped with stomach-flipping roughness into her ear…her insides clutched with want.
Then came that promise. The warning.
Only I get to taste your sweetness, Stina.
Her pussy squeezed hard at the mind-spinning memory of his mouth on that body part, and the gasping orgasm he’d given her with his tongue.
A shiver worked its way down her spine even as she was mortified that her friend might have heard him say that.
Jolie’s eyes widened. “Ohh. I see.”
“Don’t start, Jolie.”
“That’s interesting.”
Stina groaned and dropped her head back. The ceiling offered no answers. Neither did the knot currently living in her core.
