Page 52 of Wildly Inappropriate

“That’s the other thing. Lila and I don’t get along. We fight all the time.”

“Do you, though?” Kelsey chuckles. “They say there’s a fine line between love and hate for a reason, JT. It’s the same spark—the same energy—that drives them both. It just depends on which way you decide to let it burn. And it is adecisionyou make. So I’ll give you the same advice I would give either of my sisters: if you want something, make it happen. Your wildest dreams aren’t going to just fall into your lap. Just don’t overthink it.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. I can focus on winning for my parents and be with Lila. There is a spark between Lila and me that I can’t deny. Jameson is a good guy. He and his parents might be surprised if I date Lila, but they wouldn’t cut me out completely. Lila and I already make every family meal awkward, it’s not like we could make it much worse.

I’ve gotten where I am right now by chasing my goals with everything I have. Lila drives me crazy in all the worst ways, but somehow, I can’t stop looking forward to every infuriating second with her. What would happen if I leaned into the energy between us instead of fighting it? What if I let myself fall for the girl who drives me insane, who challenges me, who makes me want to be someone better every time I look at her?

The thought leaves me rattled, my pulse thrumming with a mix of anticipation and something close to fear. For the first time, the idea of being with Lila isn’t just a distant fantasy I force myself to ignore—it feels real, close, like a door swinging open right in front of me.

Don’t overthink it. It doesn’t have to be a promise of forever. We’ll just set a premeditated end date for when we aren’t living together and things would get messy anyway.

Chapter twenty-four

Lila

I’m in a weirdheadspace when Matt drops me off that night at the door to Jameo’s house. I had a great time at the game and am excited to have some new friends in town, but even Matt commented on the drive home about finding other single guys for me to meet. So I guess it was pretty apparent I’m not a good match for either of his friends. Even though I had a lot of fun, I’m feeling a bit dejected as I walk into the house and take off my sneakers.

I can hear the shower running, and the hot-blooded 24-year-old in me casually suggestsbut what if you just…joined him?I consider it for a moment, and my brain tries to entice me by replaying some of our greatest hits from Vegas and Phoenix. Surprisingly, even an argument from last Thanksgiving makes the highlight reel. I’d been on a warpath, and he’d risen to the challenge like an alpha fae in some fantasy novel. I chuckle, knowing he would pretend to hate that comparison but would secretly be preening.

As I open the door to our room, my logical brain finally overpowers my horny one, and I pause. My mind is rapidly firing off all the reasons why joining JT in the shower is a bad idea: JT humiliating me in college, JT totally ghosting me when I asked him to get breakfast in Vegas, JT telling me he is too busy—

Suddenly, the shower turns off, and it’s like I’m stuck in a trance as I hear JT grabbing a towel. I try to silently back out of the doorway when I realize he’s going to be headed my way soon, but I’m too late. JT steps from the bathroom naked, using his towel to dry his hair, and I freeze, a deer caught in the headlights.

“Uhhhgg sorry,” falls out of my mouth, all of my neurons currently occupied with trying to mentally catalog every single inch of this man’s wet body. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling as I watch a drop of water slowly make its way past the curve of his shoulder, down between his pecs, and into the divots in his abs. My eyes are just making it to the best part when JT springs to life, using the towel in his hand to cover his junk.

“Shit, Lila. I didn’t know you were home.” He backs into the bathroom and steps behind the door before wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Yup. Just got here,” I say as he opens the door back up to meet my eyes.

He takes me in, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he leans his muscular shoulder against the doorframe.

“How was yourdate?” His emphasis on the worddateis wrong, and I cross my arms over my chest as I narrow my eyes at him.

“I had a great time tonight.”

“You know, word on the street is thatMatthewis still pining over some lost love.”

Well, crap. How is JT getting access to any of the words on the street?

“Well, he sure doesn’t fuck like he’s thinking about someone else.” Maybe a bit of an aggressive response, but they do say the best defense is a good offense…or something like that.

JT’s eyes darken as he tucks his hands under his biceps, and I decide to see just how far I can push him. “I’m not sure if I got all the glass out of my back, though. Oh well, I’m going to be walking funny for weeks anyway, I can’t imagine the glass will make it any—”

I’m cut off by him stalking toward me, muttering “make it happen” before slamming his lips down on mine. And, holy crap, when that little spark of ours hits the oxygen in my bloodstream, it ignites, lighting an inferno inside me. I can’t breathe. I know all the reasons this can’t work, that it won’t work. But at this moment, I don’t care.

I reach up and tangle my fingers in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. He mirrors my intensity, one hand trailing down to cup my left ass cheek. He gives it a light squeeze, and I can feel the smile on his lips. He tries to pull back, but I tug the ends of his hair again, pressing myself against his bare chest. I can feel the warmth from his shower radiating from him, and a part of me wants nothing more than to curl up against his wide expanse of muscular chest and bask in his heat. But I can’t let him go. I can’t allow him to end this before I get to feel the ecstasy of our combined fire one more time.

His tongue dances with mine, a reflection of every argument we’ve ever had. I press my hips against his, standing on my tiptoes to better align the bulge under his towel with the part of me so desperately seeking friction. JT lifts me from the floor, and I wrap my legs around his waist, knocking off his towel in the process. I let out a small groan at the sight of his stiff cock rubbing up against the cleft of my jeans. Realizing I have far too many clothes on, I drop my legs back down, maintaining contact with his lips while I quickly undo the button on my jeans. I’m afraid if I let even an inch of space come between us, JT will change his mind. It’s happened before.

I force myself to forget the past, and I lean into him for balance as I use my feet to finish pulling off my jeans. He lets out a low “fuuuck,” the warmth of his breath skimming my lips. JT traces his hand down my side, the light tickle of his fingers in direct contradiction to the desperate violence of our kiss. When his hand reaches my ass, he slaps it, just hard enough to sting. I groan, the pressure in my core mounting at an unsustainable rate. He doesn’t stop there, though. His hand slides between us, his fingers circling my clit a few times before one sinks inside me.

I shudder, letting out a soft cry as he bends his finger forward, stroking the spot on my inner wall in a way that makes my body tighten and go limp at the same time.

His erection is hard, a constant, begging presence against me. I untangle my hand from his hair, moving my body aside so I can access his bulge, wanting to pleasure him like he is me.

He stops my hand, pulling his lips away while continuing to stroke me with his finger. I’m disoriented by the contradiction between the lack of contact and the orgasm that continues to build at his touch.

“Me first,” he says, his voice deep and gruff.

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