Page 38 of There's No Us Without You
Yes, I’m also an immature fucker, but I’ve also perfected the art of penis gymnastics and there’s no point letting that talent go to waste. Again, all one has to do is ask...
Sam’s face pales, his jaw slackening. I swear he’s about to blow a gasket. “You shut your filthy mouth, de Silva. At least that’s what your mum did on my cock last night.”
Jesus. Here we go with the mum jokes.
“Funny,” I say, snatching my towel from the steel bench and scrubbing it over my body. “How many times have we done this? You always end up crying like a little bitch, so don’t start something you can’t finish.” I drop the towel and pull my shorts on, letting the rest of my body air-dry.
Sam’s shoulders sag. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll come over and introduce myself to... what’s her name?”
Damn it.
He got me there, little fucker.
That same protectiveness I felt last night, and again this morning, ignites my insides, and each one of my muscles tenses with the need to smash little Sammy’s face in.
I don’t respond, only allowing myself to glare at him instead of ripping his dick from his body and flushing it down the toilet.
I’d like to see him try and reattach that shit.
Eden isn’t just a piece of arse these pricks can use. She’s broken, and I want to be the one to put her back together again. At least when I’m allowed to.
I inwardly cringe. God, I’m turning into Wren. Or worse... Koby. It’s funny with Wren being who he is—all bad boy MMA fighter—but when it comes to Matilda, he’s like putty in her hands. Is that what love is like?
The guys glance at each other, a silent question hanging in the air between them as they wait for a response from me. I know exactly what they’re thinking.
I’m into Eden.
“Well,” Terry says, slapping me on the back. “That’s an interesting turn of events.”
“It’s not like that.” I keep my focus on the bottle of body wash as I dry it off with my towel and shove it back in my bag.
It is like that. However, the last thing I need is for Coach to get wind I am indeed obsessing over my new housemate. I’m notwilling to take my chances with his threat of benching me until I clean my act up.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Terry says. “That’s what happens when the right woman shows up.”
“What are you talking about?” Sam frowns at him like he’s lost it.
Terry points to each of us as he circles the room. “You’ll see. I can’t wait until all you fuckers are whipped. It’ll be the highlight of my life watching you idiots fumble all over yourselves.”
I snort and shake my head as I throw on a clean shirt. “Yeah, right.”
“Looks like you’re fucked, Cap,” Carter says, slapping me on the back of the head the way I did to Sam earlier. “I give you a week before you’re on your knees begging Coach to let you out of your cage.”
“Please,” I say, huffing out a laugh. “I bet I make the eight weeks.”
“Fuck yeah,” Sam says, stepping up beside me to hold his hand out to Carter. “I bet three weeks.”
The room turns into a goddamn circus, the concrete walls echoing the sounds of their betrayal as each of the men calls out their bet on how long I’ll last before giving into temptation.
“Five grand each,” Cooper—the only one yet to make a bet—says when the chatter has quietened.
Everyone ceases talking, each pair of eyes now on him.
“What?” he says, smirking. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you, rightCaptain?” His top lip curls into a small snarl.
“No problem,” I say, narrowing my eyes on him. My jaw protests under the pressure of my back teeth, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of allowing him to see how much he affects me.
Backstabbing little prick, he is.
