Page 34 of Never Pucking Ending

Because if I did…

I huff out a laugh before pushing myself up and away from her. “Is that what you think will happen?” I doubt, adjusting myself in my jeans.

She quickly sits up when she hears the stiffness in my tone. “Well, I…I don’t know. It makes sense though, right? Maybe the reason we’ve been so pent up lately is because neither of us has gotten to scratch the itch. If we do that, it could stop. Then we wouldn’t need to figure out the logistics. It could be one or two times. Casual.”

Each word in the explanation is a goddamn knife to the gut. Casual. Belle has always been smart. But casual? There isn’t one thing about us that I’d use that word for.

Does she really think us hooking up will get rid of the temptation? Is it that simple for her? Because I’m not sure if it could be that easy for me.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “To scratch the itch?”

Another choppy breath leaves her mouth. “I want a lot of things, Jesse. But I think this would be the easiest option. Explaining what’s going on with us would be too complicated otherwise. But if it wasn’t deeper than a fling, than something temporary and fun, then that wouldn’t matter.”

It wouldn’t matter.

Forget a knife. She’s using a chainsaw on the beating organ in my chest and carving it like an ice sculpture.

Casual.

My eyes scope out hers, trying to find any indication that she’s lying. That she wants more. That she’s offering me something that she thinks I want.

But I can’t see that. None of it.

And if that’s what Belle is willing to give me—something temporary—then maybe I’d be dumb to turn her down. No matter if I want more.

“Casual,” I repeat, nodding once and hiding the thick swallow that follows. I stand up. “Fine. We can do casual. See if this works. Maybe you’re right and we’ll feel better.”

She watches me warily. “Jesse—”

“But not tonight,” I tell her, shaking my head.

If we’re doing this, I’m going to drag it out for as long as I can.

So, I force a grin like I’m on board with this plan. “Tonight was just a taste.”

She goes to say something, but I’m out the door and in my room before she can utter another word.

When I turn on my shower and strip out of my clothes, I see the damp stain in my boxers because I came in my goddam pants.

CHAPTER TEN

Belle

I can usually admit when I’m wrong. Like the time I accused my mom’s dog of hitting the television remote and exiting out of a movie right when the killer was being revealed, only to realize it was my elbow that had done it after I made a big stink. Or when I made dinner reservations for Frank’s sixtieth birthday at his favorite restaurant, only to get there and realize I’d called the wrong restaurant in a different state with the same name and there were no tables available when our party of ten arrived.

Honestly, the list of times I’ve been wrong is a little too long. The list of times I’ve been willing to admit it is vastly shorter, but it exists.

But I’ll add one more to it.

I was wrong to tell Jesse that we could sleep together and get it out of our systems. Did I tell him I was wrong? That I instantly regretted the words as soon as they were out? No. Absolutely not. Because then I’d have to admit that it’s been two days since he walked out of my room, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

I’ve replayed every moment from the second he kissed me in the kitchen to when he coaxed me into an orgasm an unhealthy number of times. Forget drugs and alcohol. Jesse is undoubtedly my bad habit. And I knew instantly after what we’d done that there was no such thing as a one-time experience.

And thinking about all the complications that would come to openly admitting ‘hey, everyone, I really want to bang my stepbrother’ does not make me feel confident in what my pesky heart feels about the situation.

My phone buzzes beside me, breaking me out of the train of thought. Which is probably for the better because I’ve already chewed off some of the pastel pink nail polish that I’d gotten done at the spa.

I feel bad for frowning when I see the message, but my heart plummets the tiniest fraction at the name on the screen.