Page 6 of Wildly Inappropriate

“Jesus Christ, Lila,” Jameo cuts in, passing a wad of napkins to JT, who is about to die from inhaling his beer. “I obviously don’t want to know the details of your sex life. In my mind, you are and will forever be an asexual blob.”

“Oh, really?” I ask with a smirk before turning my attention to the man who forever changed my opinion of bathroom sex. “What about you, JT? Do you see me as an asexual blob?”

“What? You? I mean… I try not to think about…”

I feel the evil smile pull across my face as he struggles to find the right words. I’m not sure how Jameo would feel knowing his best friend hooked up with his little sister, though if I get a few more drinks in me, we might just find out.

Fortunately for JT, my brother’s attention has been drawn to the front of the restaurant, where Bryn and her sisters are walking through the door. JT and I follow Jameson over, saying hello to Bryn’s sisters, Kelsey and Izzy, as we all awkwardly gather between the bar and an empty four-top. Jameo and Bryn clearly need to go have it out somewhere private, so after we assure them we can find our own way back to our various hotels, they take off. Uncertain what else to do, I invite Kelsey and Izzy to join us for a drink, and we head back to our table.

As JT breaks away from the group to grab another round, I consider telling him I don’t need one. I haven’t had enough to eat today, and the two drinks I’ve had are going straight to my head. On the other hand, I am now awkwardly stuck at a bar with the guy I’mdefinitely notobsessing over and my brother’s girlfriend’s sisters, one of whom interviewed me a few weeks ago for a job at her company. So maybe another drink won’t hurt.

JT returns from the bar and slides into the booth next to me, the Harper sisters having taken the other one for themselves. My thigh sparks where his leg meets mine, and I quickly pull away, making myself as small as possible. We most certainly do not need any sparks catching fire again. The rest of the table falls into the natural rhythm of conversation, talking about work and upcoming travel, but I can’t focus on anything but the warmth emanating from the body next to mine.

“When do you finish your grad program, Lila?” Izzy asks as JT excuses himself to use the restroom.

“Oh, um…” I force myself to focus on her, my mind trying to focus on JT’s ass as he walks away rather than her question. “May. I graduate in May.”

“Oh, cool,” she replies. “Well, I hope you’ll be moving to Wild Bluffs then.”

“Yeah, me too, though obviously no pressure to hire me, Kelsey,” I say.

Kelsey sighs. “Way to make it awkward, Iz.”

“Only a little,” I joke. “Though, why should we deviate from the norm at this point?”

We all share a laugh, the kind where a group acknowledges things are uncomfortable, and somehow that acknowledgment eases the weirdness.

“You know what? I should probably pee before JT gets back and blocks the booth again,” I say as I slip out of the leather seat and head toward the little hallway with the Restrooms sign above it.

JT emerges from the men’s bathroom, and as he walks toward me, I know I should move to the side so his stupid, big shoulders can fit through, but instead of shrinking against the wall like I normally would, I continue walking, my left side bumping against his firm body as we pass by each other. I wobble at the impact, and JT grabs my shoulders to steady me.

“Been walking long, Pipsqueak?” JT asks as I regain my balance.

I know I should respond with a retort of some kind, but all I can think about is the feel of his strong hands, so close to touching my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt. My gaze travels to his eyes, and they look so dark, they could almost be a dusk sky. But somehow, it’s the gleam in them, the one that tells me he’s about to argue with me, that causes me to break. I push up on my toes, slamming my mouth against his, my arms wrapping around his neck for stability. His lips meet mine without hesitation, his body responding like it’s been waiting for this opportunity. Never breaking the kiss, he moves us to the dark back corner of the hallway, away from the prying eyes of anyone who might be watching.

Our kiss is desperate, like a forbidden fruit we both know we shouldn’t indulge in. The bar around us fades away, leaving only the sound of our erratic breathing and thundering hearts. His hands trace fire along my spine, my sides, my ass, igniting a flame within me that threatens to consume us both. My body is no longer under the control of my brain as my hips press into JT. Our mouths continue to collide until, to my horror, my right leg hooks around JT’s waist, pulling us even closer together. He bites my lower lip and lifts my skirt, tracing his fingertips up my inner thigh.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this,” he says, and I nod my head in reply.

His knuckle finds my throbbing center, and I bite back a moan. He teases me, gently tracing my pussy through my underwear. He lets out a dark chuckle and pulls his hand away, dropping my skirt back down before grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the bathroom.

As I start to follow him, the door next to us opens, yanking me back to reality. As a bartender steps in from outside, JT drops my hand, and my stomach falls. Regret is written all over his face, and suddenly, I’m 18 again.

Just as he opens his mouth, Izzy walks into the hallway, and we both take a quick step away from the other. Unwilling to endure his rejection again, I turn away without a word, vowing thatthis timeI’ll forget about JT Johnson.

Chapter four

JT

Now

“It’s been a roughsix months, JT. You’ve only been in the final hunt one time since you won in Vegas,” my agent Jon says through my phone.

“I know. I know. I just can’t seem to dial in my short game. It’s like any time I get close to the green, my swing is struggling.” I let out a short laugh, trying to ease the tension in this conversation.

Jon, however, isn’t the type of man who worries about putting others at ease. You don’t become a professional sports agent of his caliber without enjoying the stress and pressure that come with uncomfortable conversations. So he forges ahead with his point. “Have you considered seeing someone? I know you’ve been opposed to seeing a sports psychologist in the past, but I think it could be helpful. You know how helpful it has been for Jameson.”

He’s not wrong, but I also think he might be giving the good doctor a bit too much credit and not enough to Jameson’s girlfriend, who has settled him like no therapist ever could.

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