I can’t leave like this. I need to apologize, and we need to talk about where to go from here. I think we should never, ever tell Carter, but if she wants to, I will. He’ll cut off at least one integral body part, but I’ll do it if she asks me to.
Quietly, I step back inside, toeing off my shoes as my neck grows clammy. I really liked hanging out with her, but I’m 99.999 percent sure I’ve ruined any chance of us ever being able to be in the same room again.
“Jennie?” I call tentatively, climbing the staircase. I find the only bedroom door that’s closed and grip the door frame. “I wanted to apologize. Can we talk?”
Half of me hopes she’s already asleep.
“Jennie, I—” I shake my head. I suck at this. “Look,” I try softly, “can I come in?”
With no response, I hang my head and sigh, turning toward the stairs.
But then I hear her, softly calling my name, and I jerk my elbow into my side triumphantly.
“Yes,” I mutter before opening the door and waltzing right through it. “Listen, I was—”
My words dissolve on my tongue, jaw dangling as my eyes fall on the most glorious sight they’ve ever witnessed.
A gentle vibration buzzes in the air, and it seems to be coming from the pink object that Jennie holds between her long, bronzed legs from her spot on the bed.
And Jennie? Pantless. And panty-less. Head thrown back too.
My hand falls to my dick when my name tumbles from her mouth once more, just like the words I can’t stop tumble from mine.
“Holy shit.”
Jennie’s head rolls forward, eyes dazed as they float over the room before eventually landing on me, standing in the doorway, hand on my cock, which is, by the way, super fucking hard right now.
Her lips part, and I must be the densest dick on the planet to think she might say my name once more, or better yet, invite me in.
Instead, she shrieks.
Holy fucking shit, does she shriek. Bloodcurdling, ear piercing, and yet Lieutenant Johnson doesn’t give two shits.
No, he stands on guard in all his glory, begging me to let him give her the ol’ one-eyed salute, to ask her if she wants to play.
And Jesus fucking fuck, do I ever wanna play.
CHAPTER 9
WE SHOULD （NEVER） DO THAT AGAIN
JENNIE
I have questions.
What have I done to deserve the life I lead, particularly the one obnoxiously thrust into my face this past week? Why has this man in front of me seen me half-naked on multiple occasions? Why did my toy collection explode in his hands? Why did Indiana Bones slap him in the face? Why did I kiss my brother’s best friend?
Why did Garrett just absolutely catch me jilling off with a motherfucking vibrator while maybe or maybe not—to be determined—moaning his name?
“What are you doing in here?” I screech, leaping from the bed. “I didn’t say you could come in! You left! You were supposed to leave! I heard the door shut!”
“I-I-I—” His eyes ricochet between my lower half and my hand. “Holy fucking fuckballs.”
I jerk my shirt over my hips, hiding my stupid, traitorous vagina. My occupied hand is shaking violently—the rabbit’s turned all the way to ten—so I chuck that bad girl across the room.
Mistake number one. Now she’s vibrating excruciatingly loudly against the hardwood, jumping around, and Garrett can’t take his eyes off her.
I rush him, shoving his chest. He doesn’t move, aside from his head whipping back and forth between me and my toy. “Out! Get out! And you shouldn’t have kissed me!”
“I thought you wanted me to!” he screams back, face red as he comes back to life. “I misread the signs!”
“Then invest in some fucking reading glasses, hotshot!”
“I’m sorry!” Gripping my wrists, he yanks me into him. “Stop pushing me!”
“Stop yelling at me!”
“You yelled first!”
“You saw my vagina!”
“I saw your boobs two nights ago!” His eyes widen, lips mashing together. “Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. I’m sorry I saw your boobs. And your vagina. I already told you they’re nice boobs.” He gestures at my lower half and clears his throat. “And it’s a nice, uh…vagina.”
With a groan, I twirl out of his grasp, burying my scalding face in my hands. “Stop saying vagina, please.”
He shrugs. “Fine, you have a nice pussy.”
I whack him in the shoulder. “Garrett!”
“Ow! Christ, you’re violent.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
He flings his arms in the air. “News flash, sunshine! I almost never know what the fuck you mean!”
“Women aren’t that confusing!”
“No, but you are!” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Look, I wanted to apologize for kissing you. I was having a good time and got caught up in the moment.”
Okay, maybe I did too. Garrett is kind, easy to be with despite the awkwardness, and he makes all my hot spots light up like a glow stick. The man has somehow managed to flood my basement with only one kiss.
I’m chalking it up to the lack of intimacy and physical connection in my life.
“Apology accepted,” I tell him. “Now good night, Garrett.”
“Okay. But don’t be embarrassed. Everyone masturbates.”
“Right, but not everyone gets caught by a famous, sexy hockey player who happens to be one of her brother’s best friends.”
His eyes brighten. “You think I’m—” He stops himself, which is for the best. He thinks I’m violent, but he hasn’t truly seen violent yet. “I’ll leave.”
“Great.” I tug my shirt tighter around my ass, thighs rubbing, spreading my wetness as he turns his back on me. He’s tall and broad and he’s got the most phenomenal hockey butt, the kind you wanna grab two handfuls of and hold on to for dear life while he fucks you up against a wall.
Or whatever.
“Wait a second,” Garrett whispers, pausing. My heart thuds as he slowly spins, one finger up, seemingly lost in thought. Then his gaze zeros in on me, heated, playful, and entirely too dangerous as he takes one purposeful step in my direction, then another, and that heartbeat drops to the pit of my stomach. “You said my name.”
“I did not.” Totally did.
“Did too.”
“Didn’t.”
His eyes roll. “Garrett.” He drags his name out on a moan, head thrown back. He doesn’t have to grab his junk, but he does anyway, and I slink backward with each calculated step he takes in my direction. He looks like he’s about to make me his snack, and I’m not sure I’ll put up a fight.
I find a pillow and chuck it at his annoying, hot face for at least the twentieth time tonight. “You’re supposed to be shy, jerk!”
He deflects the pillow with a veiny forearm, and when he smacks me in the face with it, I gasp. “I’m not shy, Jennie! I’m just fucking terrified of you!”
“You sure look it!” I’m running out of space as he prowls toward me, and when I trip over my bag, Garrett grips a fistful of my shirt, keeping me on my feet. I have no idea where the timid, awkward boy has gone, replaced by some sort of alpha man, oozing sex and confidence, ready to take control.