Page 62 of Wicked Pickle

I switch the water to ice cold. Take that, motherfucker. She’s not for you. It will only cause you trouble. Her, too. She’s tied up with the family. She’s got classes and proper work to do. The make-a-difference kind.

But I can’t get her out of my head. The hair. The smile. The way her eyes cut to me when she knows I’m full of shit.

And that pussy. God. It was made for me. I picture her face blooming red when my hand was on her neck. How she wanted it again. She said yes to everything I wanted. I can hear it now in the quiet.Yes.

Scene after scene flashes through me, and goddamn, I’m hard again. What the actual fuck?

I shut off the water. This boner will have to go fuck itself. I’m ignoring it. I stuff it into a pair of boxers and towel my hair dry.

What the hell has gotten into me? She’s just a woman. There are a billion of them on the planet.

I return to my room and pick up the phone again.

And I see her name.

God help me, I feel like a fucking kid who got a puppy for Christmas. My chest is full of sunshine and shit. I want to smile. Right here in a goddamn empty room. Smiling just to fucking smile.

I scan the message.

Symphony: Hey, it’s Symphony. Sorry for bailing. I had to make sure Marietta was all right. Merrick was waiting on us to…be done. He took us back to the car. He thought it would be a good idea if I had your number for when I cornered Bailey on what the Pickles know about your bar.

Okay, so it’s just an information message. Nothing personal.

I start punching a reply.

I intend to say something pseudo-professional. Like, thanks for whatever intel you can gather. Or maybe, yeah, let us know what you figure out.

But when I hit send, it’s an entirely different message my fingers have tapped out.

My cock jumps reading it.

Me: I don’t want to wait for that. I want to fuck you at the next possible opportunity.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Who knew a dick could type?

CHAPTER 21

SYMPHONY

My whole body goes hot reading that message.

I glance at the clock. It’s 8:30 a.m. First day of summer classes.

But class isn’t until noon.

But I also never finished reading the preparatory book.

But I alsosowant back in Diesel’s bed.

When I got home and showered, just the thought of him set me off. I tried using my battery-operated boyfriend, but BOB was not up to the task.

When did I become so insatiable?

No, no, no. Someone has to have a clear head around here. I force myself to type him the worse message ever.

Me: I have class today.

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