Page 39 of Jace
Shoving my idiotic behavior this morning aside, I manage to grin back, acknowledging that he’s right. Heisa good friend of mine, and I would want him to be happy. “You go ahead. It won't get awkward. I think you would look very cute together,” I tease, making him laugh as he flips me off before heading back up to his room.
And as I watch him go, I can still feel Kaylee’s gaze burn into the side of my head, which I choose not to acknowledge.
Yes, not acknowledging stuff is something I’m very good at this morning, so I just keep on doing it, eating my damn breakfast and hoping for the life of me that my dick-glitch was just that, a glitch.
TEN
Something has shifted between me and Ty after the party on Saturday, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Well, that's not entirely true because I know precisely what I could put my finger on. On Tyler’s massive, hard dick to be exact. Because hello, it was right there, practically staring at me when I was trying hard not to look at it while being mauled by one of his friends.
Yes, I was wasted, and yes, I remember every detail of that night. Of how he, my straight friend, got hard and fucking adjusted himself when he caught us.
Ty knows it, I know it, but we don’t acknowledge it.
Because pretending it never happened, that I mysteriously forgot about it, is way easier of course. It’s why we don’t broach the subject. It’s why he didn’t comment when Tuck joined our table last night at Yetties and hogged my attention. And it’s why I’ve never said anything when I’ve caught him staring at me a couple of times, when he thinks I’m not looking.
But trust me, I'm looking. And I can't seem to stop.
Especially when he’s jogging in front of me a couple of days after the party.
Every step he takes makes his ass flex, and his powerful hamstrings contract. I groan skywards and try to calm myself down because running with a stiffy is a bitch.
But when he slows down to a trot, whipping his shirt off and tucking it in his waistband, I'm done for.
I need to have that, so I up my game. I'm fully intent on tackling him into the sand and satisfying my desires right then and there. Or, at the very least and the smarter option, running past him so I can continue our very long jog in peace.
Of course, that's when he unexpectedly comes to a complete stop, and I crash into his broad, sweaty back, toppling us over. It seems my earlier wish has been granted, but luckily, we were running on the beach, and the sand cushions our fall.
He goes down with an 'uhmpf,' and somehow I have perfect aim, managing to end up on top of him. And this happens to be one of my favorite positions.
“Well, it's a good thing I'm used to being tackled, right?” he grunts beneath me, and I chuckle into his neck.
I swear his big body shudders, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I was halfway hard already, I could’ve maybe controlled my own body's reaction.
But as it turns out, I just can't. I freaking can’t when it comes to him.
So hey, little Jacie says hello, unfortunately–or very fortunately–pressed right against his ass.
Fun times.
He freezes, and I hold my breath, not wanting to upset him, trying for the ever fucking love of God to calm the fuck down.
“Fuck,” I mumble, pressing my forehead into the back of his neck, which smells way,waytoo enticing and isn't helping my situation at all. “I’m sorry, it’s a natural response. You know, dick sees a fine ass, and, well, things happen. Damn it.”
My voice sounds far more strained than I'd like. “Oh no, I'm probably freaking you out. I just–”
Stop,“ Ty interrupts me, reaching over his shoulder to pat my head gently. “Don't worry about it, I get it. But, uh, could you, you know, get off now?”
Oh, shit. I do as he says, rolling off him and collapsing onto my back in the sand. I slam my hands against my face in embarrassment. He pushes himself up, arms flexing as he does so, and rolls over as well, his face and body now covered in the fine, white sand.
“I... shit. Sorry,” I say and start absentmindedly dusting him off. Only noticing what a bad ideathatis for my current condition the minute my fingers inadvertently slide over his rock-hard abs, and they clench beneath my touch, making me yank my hand back hastily.
I look up at him with a cringe, prepared to apologize again, but Ty's attention isn't on me. No, it's somewhere around my crotch area, where my enthusiastic little friend is still trying to pitch a tent.
I swear I see Ty swallow, and his widened pupils flicker with desire, with that same damnwantthat I’ve been spotting for weeks, but convinced myself I was imagining. He has a girlfriend for crying out loud, and they are very much in love, so he doesn’t want me, no matter how much I’m starting to want him.
And I did a good job convincing myself of that, that he was straight and would never want me in return. So, I tried to quell it down, which worked pretty well, at least until last weekend.
Because I definitely recognize the way he was looking at me in that hallway, just like the way he's looking at me right now. What I see in that gaze is undeniable. It's the same way my verystraightformer bandmate back home looked at me before things got complicated.
