Page 36 of Beautifully Conflicted

I can’t even begin to process that. Not while my eyes are transfixed on the matching tent he’s sporting as his hips slowly rock forward, like he’s trying to fuck the air. “Yours is trying to say hi to mine right now. Look at it poking against your pants. Hi there.” Damien waves—waves—at my cock.

I hold my hands in front of my junk to block his view. “Stop waving at my dick, you perv.”

“Little Ben likes it. Come on, let him come out to play.” Damien bites the corner of his lip.

“No.”

“Please?” His hips rock forward again. “I won’t even let Big D join in.”

“Why the fuck am ILittle Band you’reBig D?”I hate to think what it says about me that I’m even having this conversation, but apparently my need to beat Damien at anything and everything outweighs my dignity.

“Maybe you can be Big B. I won’t know until I get a good look at him. Go ahead, show me that pretty dick. I didn’t get to look my fill last time.”

“Too bad. I’m not doing it again.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, realizing too late that gives him a clear view of my junk.

“That’s your head talking. Your cock likes the idea. It must feel so cramped inside those pants. Take it out. Stroke it.”

I mold my hands into fists to keep them from doing what Damien says. “No.”

Damien’s Gaze takes a slow tour of my body. “I didn’t peg you as the kind of guy to be ashamed of his dick.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“You won’t show it to me.”

“Because I hate you, not because I’m ashamed of my dick.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“That I hate you? Yes.”

“Why do you keep getting hard for me, then?” His eyes drop to the bulge that’s just as prominent as it was when I first pressed him against the tree, and for the first time in my life, Idofeel ashamed of my body.

Usually, I take pride in it. I work hard for it, and while I don’t flaunt it per se, I don’t mind when people ogle it. Girls mostly, since they’re more likely to see it. I even accept admiration from my teammates who can appreciate what goes into sculpting it. And both occurrences have always left me proud. And what I can do with it on the field… It doesn’t usually let me down.

Right now, though, it’s like it doesn’t belong to me.

Yeah, there’s something about Damien physically that catches my attention. Always has. But his mouth usually shuts those thoughts down before my body has a chance to react.

He’s being mouthier than usual, so why am I hard?

“The idea of knocking you out must turn me on,” I grit, unable to consider another explanation. Not here. Not now.

Damien cocks his head to the side and mutters, mostly to himself, “Liam’s right.”

“Right about what?”

He starts like he forgot I could hear him, swallows, and focuses his somewhat bewildered coffee eyes on me. “There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“There’s a—” I shake my head to clear it of the absurdity he just spewed, “—you did not just say I loved you.”

“I didn’t. Liam did.”

“And you believe that?”

“I believe you convinced yourself you hate me, so you don’thave to admit you want me.”

“Idon’twant you. I’m not even sure I like you. And I sure as fuck don’t love you.” That’s the first totally honest thing I’ve said to him all day, except the part about my favorite sandwich, and given the way his face falls, he believes me.

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