Page 39 of Teasing

“What the hell is that?” I ask as I take a closer look.

“An ice cream maker,” she tells me like I’m a moron for asking. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Talking when he should have been listening.”

“Oopsie,” she giggles and pulls out coconut milk, peaches, and vanilla beans. “You do talk a lot, Jamie.”

Shit. Maybe I am in love with this woman. “Damn... even Emmie thinks you talk too much.”

He glares as he straightens. “Yeah,” he fucking hisses. “But you’re still smiling.”

MAVERICK

The mood at Kingdom is absolutely electric. People pack the dance floor, lost in the sexy rhythm of the music, while the band plays a heavy beat, and the hot-as-hell lead singer in ripped fishnet stockings and tight, short black shorts sings about being desperate for something.

I know that feeling.

Here’s the thing though... Lilah wasn’t lying. The singer is hot. Tall, blonde, and built like a brick shithouse. But she’s not the woman I want—because life’s just not that easy. The woman I want isn’t just hot. She’s fucking exquisite. Soft curves, soft smiles, and a sharp tongue that’s so damn sexy, I get hard just thinking about it.

A groan forms low in my throat as I catch a shadow out of the corner of my eye moving in next to me.

“What’s with the whole moody, emo, bastard thing you’ve got going on?”

I turn my head, not surprised to find my cousin Maddox standing next to me on the closed-off VIP balcony of our uncle’s club. “Emo? Seriously?”

He taps his glass of whiskey to my bottle of beer and tips his chin. “I mean, to each his own, man. But why the hell are you off in a corner, sulking?”

“Thought you werethe all-knowing,” I call him out, looking down at the floor below us. At our friends and family, dancing and partying as one of Lilah’s former opening acts jams out on stage.

“I know you’re a fucking idiot,” he jokes.

“You’re unsurprisingly not the first person to tell me that today. Might want to ask Jamie how it went for him,” I warn, even if I’m kidding.

Maddox stares at me for a long minute, unamused. “Want to talk about it?”

I lift my bottle to my lips and think about it for a second before I drink. “Not even a little bit.”

“So it’s a woman, huh?”

“You heard me say I didn’t want to talk, right?” The crowd below us screams as the band pulls Lilah on stage to sing with them.

“Get your shit together, or don’t. That’s on you.”

“Thanks, Yoda,” I grumble.

How many fucking people can lecture me today?

And why am I letting them?

“You ever want something you know you shouldn’t have?” I give in and ask Madman.

“Every day for almost a year,” he deadpans quickly, shocking the shit out of me. “But I want something Ican’thave. Pretty sure you’re torturing yourself over something youcanhave. There’s a massive difference.”

“Has anybody ever told you the way you have of knowing everything is unsettling? Because it is.” I don’t bother asking how he knows or even making sure we’re talking about the samedamn thing because it doesn’t matter. It’s another check mark in thewhy the hell am I here instead of homecolumn.

“I watch. It’s what I do. You’ve always acted. It’s what you do. Or it sounds like what you used to do.”

I take another sip of beer, unwilling to admit he’s right.

---