Page 22 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“A guy I don’t have to worry about being—”
“You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” I ask as he stands some from his seat and cranes his neck to survey the patrons of the bar.
“I never joke about getting laid.” He laughs while all I want to do is shrink in my seat and vanish.
“I have to keep up pretenses that Jett and I—”
“Fuck Jett.” He rolls his shoulders. “This is a small town. No one’s even talking about Jett being here so that means he’s keeping a low profile. And his low profile means that no one has connected the dots that the two of you are together. Or rather, not together.”
“This is a bad idea,” I groan.
“You didn’t say no.” He stares at me, eyes alive.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” he asks as he scans the crowd.
“No firefighters,” I say, prompting him to whip his head my way.
“What’s wrong with firefighters?” he asks. If I could kick myself under the table I would.
It’s a one-night stand, Dylan. One. Night. It isn’t as if I need to worry about them staying around long-term. It isn’t as if I have to worry about them leaving like my dad.
His eyes narrow, and the look he gives me demands an answer. “No firefighters,” I reply and lift my eyebrows as if to say that’s the only explanation I’m going to give him. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“And you are so getting laid.”
Sleep with someone.
Did I actually encourage her to get laid?
Christ, I’m sure Damon would chew me out if he knew what I did tonight. What I encouraged.
But Wes Winters isn’t all that bad. I can think of worse guys for her to sleep with. Besides, he’s nice and polite and not the kind to stick around.
So, he’s perfect.
But fuck if I’m not questioning why I suggested this. Why I called him over and initiated small talk between them. Bought them a round or two of drinks and then subtly made my exit.
The front door bounces back followed by a giggle and a laugh. There is a trail of thumps of body parts hitting walls as they make their way down the hallway.
Her door shuts, but I can still hear her.
Giggles turn to moans.
And dear fucking god. Those moans. Her moans.
Throaty and sexy and . . .
They’re enough to make me hard instantly.
Yeah, I’m definitely questioning why I did this.
And even more so, I’m questioning why my dick is in my hand and my thoughts are on Dylan and how she felt straddling me the other night. The hazy look in her eyes. The weight of her tits against the fabric of her shirt.
She’s moaning for someone else, and fuck if I’m not pretending she’s moaning for me.
The taste of her. The wine on her tongue. The buds of her nipples against my lips. Licking my way up her inner thigh.
