Page 17 of Bite Your Tongue

Before I can come up with something to counter that and make him feel less fucking shitty, he pulls his phone out. That might not be a bad thing either because I likely would have made it worse with whatever I could muster up.

“Fuck, they’re here,” he sighs before taking off toward the front door.

Shit.

I feel like a total shitbag for bringing my best friend here tonight. When she showed up in Portland a few days ago, on the run from her now ex-fiancé, it was clear that Gemma had just walked out of a literal nightmare. But I guess I just thought being out andaround people would do her some good. When I look over at her now though, as we get familiar with everyone, it’s glaringly obvious she’s extremely uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I ever want to make my best friend feel.

I’ve had my suspicions about the man Gemma was supposed to marry for a while now, but I thought I was being crazy or maybe even a little jealous. Not jealous that she had met her Prince Charming—because who needs one of those? But jealous of him because he was getting to spend time with her when, since we had been in second grade, we had been attached at the hip.

I’ve missed my best friend, but I never wanted her to return home under these kinds of circumstances. She didn’t just leave her fiancé; she ran away from him because he had been beating the shit out of her day in and day out.

Looking at my friend sends a shooting pain right to my heart because, this whole time, I didn’t know. And even when I had a funny feeling, I did nothing. I failed Gemma. What’s worse is, I’m about to fail her a whole lot more because in a few short weeks … I’m leaving for South Carolina. I haven’t had the courage to tell her yet because, well, she looks too sad and broken right now and I can’t bear the thought of making her feel worse.

My brother has been in love with Gemma since the first day he saw her, but when he finally had her six years ago, he ghosted her and went to college. Now, she hates his guts. So, I’m not sure how it’s going to go over when I suggest she live with him after I leave for South Carolina.

Who knows though? Maybe it’ll bring them back together.

Or maybe they’ll kill each other. It’s hard to say, given their personalities. Smith is stubborn, and Gemma is … sharp.

Gemma walks beside me, bringing her face toward my ear. “So, there stands the infamous big-dick man, huh?” She sneakilydarts her eyes to Ryder, who stands at the other end of the room with his hands tucked in his hoodie pocket. “I can practically see the outline through his jeans,” she jokes, but still, my eyes fly to his crotch.

“Shut up. It wasn’tthatbig,” I lie, tearing my eyes away before he sees me gawking. “It was, like, mediocre. Kind of.”

I made the mistake of telling her that we’d hooked up, but my big mouth didn’t stop there. Nope, I had to go on about how he had a huge cock too. I swear, sometimes, my mouth just blurts shit out before I even have a chance to consider the aftereffects of it.

“You seem to be awfully flustered by this mediocre-dick man,” she utters as playfully as she can muster. “Oh, look, he’s coming this way.”

Before he makes it to us, Gemma quickly escapes, leaving me by myself, and I suck in an aggravated breath through my teeth when I catch the sight of him grinning as he approaches me.

“Hey, look,” I say, lifting a brow, “I understand you enjoyed yourself the other night and all, but jeez, have some self-respect. You’re giving super-desperate vibes.”

A knowing smirk tugs at his lips, and for a split second, I wonder what his mouth would feel like between my legs. It probably wouldn’t feel like heaven at all. Not even a little, I’m sure. I attempt to lie to myself in hopes that I’ll stop picturing his head between my thighs, but it doesn’t work. If anything, it makes it worse, and drool gathers in my mouth.

“Enjoyed myself? I sure did. Though I think you enjoyed yourself too,Brat,” he counters casually. “But either way, that’s not why I came over here.”

“Go on,” I say. “Show me you’re a good boy who respects women.”

“Good boy, huh?” he says, his voice growing hoarse before he swallows. “Who says I’m a good boy, Sail-On?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I wave my hand at him. “Before we hooked up, we’d share a few words, sure. But since then, you’ve been different with me.” I shake my head. “Which I don’t get, by the way. It was just sex.”

“Revenge sex,” he counters. “Not that I’m complaining. You took your anger out on my cock, and I liked it. I liked it so much that I think we need a repeat.”

I can’t stop myself from wondering if Ryder has heard about the sex tape. Or worse, saw it. But he’s not that type of guy. The kind who sits around with a bunch of dudes and watches his best friend’s sister unknowingly have sex on camera. At least, I really don’t think he is. And if he has heard about it, he seems like the guy who would bring it up and ask if I was all right.

“I don’t think so, Pretty Boy.” I smile.

“Why not?” He frowns.

“First off, I’m turning a new page in my book of life. I’m not going to continue screwing my brother’s best friends, and I’m also not going to throw myself at any dude who gives me a second look.” I inhale, biting my lip playfully. “I think I got everything I needed a few weeks ago, thanks.” I offer a mischievous grin. “Have a good night, Cambridge. Don’t get into any trouble.”

He doesn’t look disappointed; instead, he just seems like he doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah, you too,” he answers idly before lifting his drink to his lips.

For a moment, my eyes are stuck on his lips as he sips the liquid. My mouth waters, and I swallow harshly.

And suddenly, I’m jealous of a glass.

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