Page 34 of Bull Rush

“I had one in my lap already. If you hadn’t acted like she disgusted you, it would have been fine.”

“I don’t want a rumor going around that I’m cheating on my wife, and I definitely don’t want a rumor that I’m tag-teaming with her brother,” I argue. “And since when do you have a hard time getting women?”

“I’m not having a hard time finding them in general, just a harder time finding ones who don’t want to ‘take the next step’ after a couple of nights together. I want my life simple. I already have Cade taking up space since he’s back from college. I’m not about to start watching my bathroom drawers fill with curling irons and tampons.”

“You’ve got a few more years of that before it starts looking sad, just so you know,” I warn my old friend. He’s a couple of years older than me, and I can’t imagine still trolling bars. Even back home, it’d been friends of mine who were up for a friends-with-benefits situation. I didn’t trust anyone else.

“You’ve got a few more weeks of following my sister around like a lost dog before women are going to start seeing you as a pity fuck instead of bragging rights.”

“I think I’m at peace with that. Especially if it means I don’t fuck it up with your sister.”

“You already fucked it up. She’s got you on your knees. You’re playing defense, and not well, I might add.”

“Well fuck you very much.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“How do you figure?”

“Pretend you know how to run offense. Make a few calls. See if you can get back in the game, or you’re gonna lose to that prick.” My old quarterback comes out in full force with just enough alcohol in him that he thinks he’s clever.

But he’s not wrong. Hazel has me right where she wants me, even when I should have the upper hand. Which gives me the perfect idea.

FIFTEEN

Hazel

It’s been a never-ending day,and I’m exhausted. I’m in need of a long soak in the bath and a few orgasms. Given that I’m short one fiancé and plus one husband, who I’m desperately trying not to get entangled with all over again, I’m on my own on that front. Especially since I’d barely escaped with the remnants of my dignity the last time I got too close to him. Which means it’s battery-operated boyfriends only right now.

Except, I open my nightstand drawer and nothing. Well, not nothing; there’s some hand lotion, cough drops, lip balm, and tissues. Plus half a bag of chocolate for a rainy day. But not the thing I need right now. Its case and the contents are missing. I turn on my heel and move to my bathroom. I always keep a charged spare in there. For emergencies and for those days when I need one convenient for water use. I open the drawer, and it’s empty too. I glare at the blank space and slam it shut.

There’s only one answer—only one explanation for this kind of coincidence, and he’s currently sleeping in my guest room. Given that I heard via my bestie group chat that he also spent the night chatting up every local in the bar and flirting with half the single women in town, I’m ready to strangle him. Maybe I can claim justified murder the same way he did.

I move quickly down the hall and through the door. He’s fast asleep, sprawled out on his back with the window open and the sounds of the night floating in through the window. He looks so peaceful like this, and somehow that makes me angrier.

I’m on top of him a second later, my hands on his throat, my nails digging into the tattoos there and squeezing. The satisfaction it brings lasts only for the briefest of moments because before I know what’s happening, I’m on my back. My hands are pinned above my head, and he’s looming over me. His face is a collage of sleepiness, surprise, and irritation as he takes the sight of me in.

I hadn’t thought about what I was wearing when I came in here. Too mad to think straight, and he’s staring at the thin tank top I have on and the way my breasts are threatening to spill out of it. Given the way we left things the other night, this is probably going to be seen as another attempt to seduce him, and it’s absolutely not.

“What the fuck are you doing, Haze?”

“Choking you.”

“I caught that part.” His brow furrows deeper than before. “For what?”

“Mental distress.” I glare at him. “At least that’s what I’m going to tell the cops.”

“You kill me; you better call Bo to come clean it up so there aren’t any cops.”

“That’s your response?” Ihuff.

“You wouldn’t last in prison. Your smart mouth would get you killed.”

“You lasted.”

“I was in a Club Fed. You won’t be.”

“Fine. I’ll call Bo. Now let me finish the job.”

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