Page 7 of Mistle-Ho

Wait.

“Why the fuck do your panties and bra match?” I frown as she pulls my shirt over her head, both because she’s obscuring my view and because I know what matching underwear means. “Where are you going after this?”

Alexis shoves both arms through their respective holes and the hem of the shirt hits her knees. “Clubbing.” She flings both arms out, scowling at the shirt hanging off her body before turning the expression on me. “Can’t you tell?”

I study her for a second. “You were late tonight. Where did you go before you got here?”

She bristles, standing taller as she tosses one side of her long blonde hair back. “That’s none of your business.”

Alexis is right. It is none of my business. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to know. “Tell me anyway.”

I haven’t felt the bite of jealousy in years, but that shit is just as ugly and painful as it was back then. Maybe worse. Because back then it was over a girl who didn’t deserve my time, let alone my suffering.

The woman in front of me though… Alexis is different. She always has been. But up until tonight she was also securely slotted in the off-limits tab of my brain. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but suddenly my filing system has gone all the way off the goddamned rails.

She steps around where I stand, shirtless with my spent dick still hanging out of my pants, and huffs out, “I don’t have to tell you anything.” Crouching down, she collects her dress and shoes, along with a tiny matching red purse, then makes a beeline for the door. “And you should put that thing away before you go back inside.”

“Where are you going?” I don’t want her to leave. Not like this. I need—

I don’t honestly know what I need. Normally, getting off is the end of interactions like this, but tonight I don’t like the way it feels. Maybe because I’m the only one who got anything out of it.

Yeah. That’s got to be it.

“I’m going home because I need to stain stick my dress.” Alexis doesn’t look at me as she yanks the door open and darts onto the narrow deck.

I hurry after her, one hand cramming my still half-hard cock back into place as I scramble to think of a way to get her to come back. “I can take it to the cleaners for you.”

“I’m good.” She’s halfway down the ladder already. “You should get back in there before someone notices you’re missing.”

“What about you?”

Her bare feet hit the ground and she finally looks up at me, pretty face illuminated in the moonlight. “No one’s going to notice I’m gone.”

And then she is. Running in the shadows of the yard to duck up the side of the house. A minute later, the headlights of her car cut through the night as she speeds down the street, taking her wrong opinion with her.

Raking one hand through my hair, I let out a curse, swearing a few more times as I pace along the small platform flanking the front of the structure. What did I just do?

Not the part where I embarrassed the fuck out of myself by nutting the second Alexis touched me—the part where I lost my mind and crossed every line there is with my best friend’s little sister.

And now I’ve got to go back into the party—shirtless—like nothing happened.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I collect the scarf and packaging she abandoned and descend the ladder, being careful not to throw my weight against it just in case it’s not as solid as it seems. Babs will kill me if I break the entrance to her little hideaway.

Hopefully she never finds out I’ve done way worse than that in it.

I’m still berating myself as I move along the back of the house, trying the doors that lead inside, hoping I can sneak into one of the less crowded areas. A six-five, long- haired, shirtless man is a proven attention grabber, and I want to fly under the radar. The universe must take pity on me, because the handle leading into the master bedroom twists in my hand.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I push it open and rush in, silently closing it behind me before turning to get my bearings in the dimly lit room. It’s the only spot on the first floor that stays closed off during parties, so I’m a little surprised—and dismayed—to hear the murmur of voices.

I wasn’t looking forward to having witnesses to my walk of shame.

Since I’ve been outside, my eyes are used to the darkness, so it doesn’t take me long to identify the source of the voices. The sight that greets me sends me flattening back against the wall like I’ve forgotten I’m not the kind of guy who’s capable of hiding in plain sight.

Leo is on his knees at the side of the bed, his face between the thighs of who I’m thinking might be Miss Miller. She’s got one hand on the back of his head and the other bracing herself upright on the mattress, head thrown back, face blissed out, hips working her cunt against his mouth.

That ugly emotion I never planned to feel again stabs through me as I’m reminded I should be in a similar situation right now. Instead, I’m hiding like a fucking creeper while my best friend enjoys the best kind of meal.

Miss Miller starts to twitch, the sounds she’s making getting louder, and I slide deeper into the shadows, resolved to the fact that I’ve got to suffer through whatever happens because I can’t escape this room without being caught.

---