Page 24 of Home in Nevada

Jamie stifles a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Honestly… I was kind of hoping you’d kiss me in here.” His voice is soft, uncharacteristically shy. “I really wanted you to, Jeff. But… we should stop.”

“Why should I?”

I know I should stop, but teasing him feels too good. My heart skips as I take in the pink flush on his cheeks, the way his breath catches when I brush my fingers along his jaw. If I thought he looked beautiful before, seeing him like this completely floors me.

Jamie’s gaze locks on mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I want you. Really bad.”

Oh.

The room feels like it’s spinning. His words land like a spark in a dry forest, igniting something in me I can’t control.

Heat rises to my face, spreading down my neck. The way he’s looking at me, the honesty in his voice—it makes stopping feel impossible.

My fingers tangle in Jamie’s blonde hair, and I forcefully pull his head back, my lips latching onto the soft skin just above his collarbone. He gasps, the sound sending a shiver through me, straight to my core.

I know I’ve left a mark—I can already see the faint red forming—but I don’t care. His neck is so soft, and he smells so damn good.

Jamie’s hand grips my wrist suddenly, stopping me.

“Jeff, stop messing with me,” Jamie whispers, his voice breathy and strained.

I pause, pulling back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, but there’s something in his expression I can’t quite read.

“Quit messing with me,” he says again, sitting up slightly. “I told you to stop. You know I wasn’t being coy… Don’t be an asshole.”

His words hit like a slap, and I blink, trying to ground myself.

“Jamie,” I say softly, chuckling weakly in a failed attempt to lighten the tension. “If things were different—so many things—I’d rip these fucking pants right off you,” I murmur, tugging at one of his belt loops. It’s the first time I can remember seeing him in jeans in so long, and somehow, that only makes it worse.

His flushed face breaks into a skeptical smile, his eyebrow arching. “…Shut up.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” I say, smirking, though guilt is already creeping in at the edges. “I really would.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Give me a break. You wouldn’t even know where to start.”

His words feel like a challenge I’m too stubborn to back away from. My mouth falls open briefly before I laugh.

“I know exactly where I’d start,” I say, my voice lower now as I slide my hand down between his legs. The hard heat of him, even through the thick denim of his jeans, is impossible to ignore. His smirk vanishes as his eyes flutter shut, his breath catching as a soft sigh escapes him.

And for a second, I seriously consider it. Right here, in my old bedroom, with a house full of people just down the hall.

But then Jamie pulls back abruptly, sitting up just as I pull my tongue away from his mouth.

Thank God.

“I can’t cheat, Jeff. I can’t,” he says, his voice tight, almost shaky. His gaze falls to the floor. “This isn’t me… This isn’t you.”

The words cut deeper than I expect. I laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just the echo of old memories—the girlfriends we had in high school, the times we crossed the line anyway.

“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, shrugging, even as guilt tugs at me harder now. “This isn’t cheating…”

It is, though. I know it is. And the worst part is, I can’t stop wanting him. My body isn’t listening to reason, even as my mind begs me to back off.

Jamie glares at me, crossing his arms, but I can tell he’s struggling too. He shifts awkwardly, trying to adjust himself, and I can’t help it—I laugh.

“Shut up, Jeff…” he mutters, his face red as he glares harder.

I stop laughing the moment I notice it.

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