Page 22 of Play It Off

“Thanks,” Gavin mutters, not even bothering to look at her this time around, and she flounces away with an irritated huff, which makes me smile.

Hey, I need to get my thrills where I can.

Chapter NineGavin

This girl. This gorgeous, sexy-as-fuck woman is blowing my mind tonight, and I don’t know what to say. Or how to react.

That’s a lie. I know what I want to do—lunge across the table and kiss the shit out of her—but her brother is sitting mere feet away from us, and I’m not about to cause a riot in Charley’s tonight.

Instead, I try my best to remain calm. I shift my hands under the table so she won’t see how they’re curled into fists, resting on my thighs. I have to keep them like that. Otherwise, I’d be reaching for her. Pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her waist. Staking my claim.

I am a possessive motherfucker. I’ve known this about myself since I was younger, and I’d get so pissed when I’d like a girl and she’d already have a boyfriend. Or worse—when she seemed into me and then I’d catch her flirting with someone else. I had a girlfriend in high school—great girl, really sweet. Too sweet because she was kind to everyone, and that made me jealous as fuck.

It’s a flaw. I know it is. That’s another reason why I’m not interested in anything serious. As long as I don’t grow feelings for someone, I can keep things casual with a woman. Once the jealous feelings start, forget it. I act like an asshole.

And then there’s the relationship I witnessed between my parents while growing up. It was an utter catastrophe and the worst example ever. I’m not a good boyfriend. Sometimes I worry I’m too much like my dad—and he’s not a good person. He’s possessive, too, over all his things. And his things include his wife and son. We’re objects to him, not actual human beings, and I worry I would do the same to a woman.

That’s why I don’t get close, I don’t catch feelings. The only woman I genuinely care about is sitting across the table from me, and she’s off limits.

I drain half my fresh beer in one long swallow and set the glass down with a loud thunk, lifting my gaze to Sienna’s. She’s watching me with those dark eyes, and I can tell she’s excited. By our conversation and what she admitted. I’m still blown away that she had been into it that night—into me. Originally, I believed she was, but after it all happened, when she constantly avoided me, I wrote it off that I’d offended her and left her alone. I’m not about to chase after a woman who’s not interested.

I’m not about to chase after any woman. That’s not my style. I remain distant until it becomes convenient.

Meaning I am a callous prick. I shouldn’t even be allowed to be this woman’s friend. And she’s still looking at me with an expectant glow in her eyes, when all I’m going to do is break her heart.

Jesus, I should be locked up for what I’m about to say because it’s positively criminal.

“You know the deal between us,” I murmur.

“What deal?” She’s frowning. Confused.

I’m quiet for a moment, letting it stretch out for as long as possible for maximum effect. “We can only be friends, Freckles.”

She sits up straighter, which causes her chest to thrust out, and my gaze automatically drops. Lingering there. Remembering how for one hot second two years ago, I had my fingers barely in her wet pussy before we were rudely interrupted by her roommate.

“What did you just say?” She sips on that damn straw. Her lips pursed around it remind me of other things. Moments I’ve fantasized about over the years. Like Sienna kneeling before me completely naked, waiting for me to tell her what to do. And what do I want? First, I would request a blow job, which she’d give eagerly. Her enthusiasm shines in everything she does, and I don’t doubt for an instant she’d do it well.

But I destroy all my secret sexual fantasies starring Sienna with the next sentence that leaves my mouth.

“Friends, Sienna. That’s all we can be, you know? A relationship between us wouldn’t work out. Don’t you agree with me?” If I get her to say that she agrees, I’ll feel better. This wouldn’t be all my decision. No, we’d share it equally.

“Why wouldn’t a relationship work between us?”

I want to groan. Should’ve known she’d question me. And I don’t feel like boring her with all my personal, fucked-up family trauma. “Your brother, for one.”

It’s an excuse, mentioning her brother. Yes, I don’t want to piss him off because, knowing me, I’d end up hurting her, and he’d come for me in her defense. Coop is a good guy. They have a close relationship.

“Coop doesn’t care.”

He might not, but I do. And I think she’s lying. Coop would totally care.

That’s not the only reason I shouldn’t pursue anything with Sienna. Despite how much I like her, I know I’ll mess it up somehow. Mess us up. And I can’t stand the thought of not having her in my life, especially now that we’re on friendly terms.

I’m such a selfish asshole. How am I going to be able to resist her? In my eyes, she’s the perfect woman.

“We spend a lot of time together. All of us.” I wave my hand toward the table where my best friends sit. “You included. If we attempt ... something, it could end spectacularly and ruin friendships.”

Her expression turns void. Any happiness she might’ve been feeling moments ago is gone, just like that. Just like I knew would happen. “Like with my brother?”

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