“Yeah,” I manage, seriously wishing I had a Twizzler. “I’m cool.”
With concern edging two beautiful pairs of eyes, they release me, each appearing well aware of what just happened. Something passed between the three of us, an undeniable current charged with want, need, and confusion.
Touching his knuckles to my cheek, Brock clears his throat. “I have to, uh, go take a piss?” It comes out like a question, almost as if he’s asking me if it’s okay.
I nod and watch him vanish around the corner, taking a sliver of my sanity with him. Ryder goes to speak, but I move past him and his waves of testosterone, somehow finding my way into the kitchen. The only thing lingering in my mind for more than a minute—other than a sweaty threesome with two of the most mentally intoxicating, soul-dangerous men I’ve ever come across—is liquid.
I feel like a damn goldfish. Unable to focus on anything for even thirty seconds, I open the fridge, my hand landing on its intended target. A bottle of ice-cold water.
Score . . .
I pull it out, twist off the cap, and take a long sip.
Heaven. I’m in it, and I know it.
As I turn around, I almost plow into Ryder. I gulp and try to swallow the H2O that’s now lodged in my throat. I tip my head up—way, way up—to look into his eyes. My breath tells me to crap off and catches in my lungs. My heart follows suit, nearly stopping.
“Why are you here with Brock?” he asks with a smug, self-assured grin. “You like switching gears that fast, huh?”
“We’re on a date.” My tone conveys the “duh” I don’t say. “And maybe I do like switching gears that fast. Maybe I like it more than the average girl should. But you wanna know what I don’t like?”
“Mm. I’m not sure.” He crosses his arms and rubs at his jaw, his grin broadening as he stares at me for several aching seconds. “You’ve already pulled one of these ‘wanna knows’ earlier today, and I can’t say I enjoyed the outcome.”
“Not my problem,” I assert with a scowl. “You’re gonna hear it whether or not you like it.”
“Well, I guess I have no choice, do I?” He inches closer, his voice dropping a notch as I step back. “But I have to admit, your feistiness is turning me the fuck on, so by all means, please continue.”
Heart kicking, I clench the bottle of water tighter. “Looks like you so conveniently left out your main source of income. I may be high, but my memory’s machete-sharp.” Well, maybe not machete. Apparently I have a roommate. “You never mentioned that you deal for Brock. I don’t like being lied to.”
“I had no intention of ever mentioning it to you. I’m not proud that I do it, so it’s not on the list of things I let people in on. And you wanna know what I don’t like, Amber?”
“I really don’t care what you don’t like,” I say, somewhat afraid of what he’s going to hit me with.
“Sucks because you’re gonna hear it whether you like it or not.” He smirks, rebellion oozing from his pores. “I don’t like being kissed and left hanging, so it looks like we’re even, peach.”
“God! You have no clue how much you piss me off,” I whisper, sure I’m about to lose my shit and smack him again.
“Ah, quite the contrary. I’m very aware of how much I get under that pretty skin of yours. You’re the one who has no idea what you do to me.” He inches closer still, his brow drawn up as I take another step back. “Or maybe ya do know. Maybe it’s you who gets off on torturing me. Yeah, that’s what it is. You enjoy this shit.”
“You’re seriously out of your mind,” I say under my breath, not a speck of me convinced otherwise. “Did you know that someone told Brock what went down today?”
“Of course I do, momma. He called me after you . . . fled.” His voice is soft as he brings a callused hand up to cup my cheek. Callused or not, my flesh beneath it melts into liquid satin. “Did you know he called me?”
I’m breathing faster. I can sense it. I shake my head because, well, that’s the only thing my body feels like doing.
“Are ya having fun on your . . . date?” he asks, removing his hand from my cheek.
I feel annoyingly bereft but still manage to narrow my eyes. “I was before you interrupted us.”
A shadow passes across his face before a devious smile settles on his full, pouty lips. “Well, then I think my timing was . . . perfect.”
I’m momentarily stunned right out of my high. I look into his captivating eyes, trying to read him. “You think so?”
“I know so.” Arrogance reigns over his features as he steps closer. I all but stumble back, my spine connecting with the cold stainless steel refrigerator. Undeterred, he positions his hands above my head, caging me in like an animal. “I also know that you should be at my place, not here.”
I bite my lip and stare at him, my fogged-out brain warped in every sense of the word. “Maybe I’d be at your place if you hadn’t decided that kissing me twice without my permission was a brilliant idea.”
“Ah, how quickly you so conveniently forget that you kissed me the last time our lips touched.” A slow smile touches his mouth as he taps his finger against the tip of my nose.
My nostrils flare, his smell of cigarettes and musky cologne nearly stopping my heart.
“But I’m a nice guy, so I’ll let you off the hook for that one. But going back to my less-than-stellar lack of judgment, maybe I already know the two times I initiated kissing you was a stupid idea. Maybe I’ve lost sleep over it. Maybe it’ll eat at me until the day I . . . die.” He dips his head, positioning his face right in front of mine.