Page 87 of Hard to Fake

My body throbs with the insistence that I have to have her.

I know that I could. Right now, she wouldn’t refuse me.

I could coax her into her back, tease her awake with my lips on her throat, the curve of her breast. Slide my hand between her soft thighs, playing, until she’s arching against me.

Tease her until she’s begging me to sink inside her the way we’ve both been pretending we don’t need.

But last night, she was hurting and vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of her.

Plus, I’d be abusing Jay’s trust in a way there’s no coming back from.

Everything up to last night, including the closet groping, is defensible, at least in part. Ends justify the means and all that.

I can’t think of what I’d say to him if I did the things to his sister that I want to right now.

In the end, it’s the guilt that makes me ease out of bed, careful not to wake her.

In the shower, I dunk my head under the stream of hot water and wait for my muscles to ease.

My eyes squeeze shut, and suddenly I’m picturing her skin, her lips, the feel of her.

My cock is somehow harder than it was a second ago.

The knot in my shoulders refuses to budge.

I wrap my fingers around my length and grip tight.

I need to get through today. To be there for her. To protect her the way I promised Jay I would.

To do that, I have to get rid of this feeling.

I stroke my length and hiss between my tight jaw. I can’t even say it feels good. It feels necessary, as though there’s no way I can breathe or talk or walk without relieving the ache that comes from being around her.

My knuckles turn white against the tile. My ass clenches as I fuck my own hand, wishing it was the girl in the other room.

I want those dark eyes on mine, glazed with desire as she falls over the edge with my name on her lips, forgetting every asshole she’s ever met.

My come blends with the water, slipping down the drain and leaving no trace of my guilt.

When I get out, she's still asleep. I get dressed and leave a note by the door in case she wakes up while I’m out. I go for a walk to the dining room.

On the way, I check my phone.

There’s a message from the team with an update about practice tomorrow. A note from my dog sitter with a video of Waffles in which he’s being asked to say ‘hi to Daddy.’ Waffles, for his part, munches happily on a treat like he doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead.

I send a text to Grams to check in. There’s no immediate response, but that’s not strange.

In the dining room, there's coffee and breakfast. A range of mostly unfamiliar faces. A few people wave to me and make small talk—the risk of being something of a celebrity.

“Miles.” Brooke’s friend from last night smiles in greeting and gestures me over.

“Hey, Ruby. Looks like you’ve been up a minute.” I nod to her lap, the stack of papers and notes there, and her phone sitting on top.

“No rest for an ER doc. Brooke still asleep?” she asks, a half smile on her face.

I nod.

“What she did last night was brave. Rocking the boat is dangerous.”

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