smartass comments that are his typical style. He peers at me over his beer bottle as he takes another sip, and I just nod my head. “What the fuck’d you do to her?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Becks.” I laugh. “Who says I did anything?”
He just gives me a look that says look who we’re talking about here . “ Well… ”
“Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutley nothing,” I bark out, tossing back my shot to help bury the fact that I’m lying to my best friend. “She’s just frustrating.”
“Like that’s a fucking news flash. We’re talking about a woman here, aren’t we?”
“I know. She’s just gotten under my skin and now she’s playing the hard to get card. That’s all.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair so I can meet Beckett’s stare.
“She told you no?” Becks coughs out in shock. “Like no, no? Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.” I catch Connie’s eye again for another round.
“Well shit, Wood. We are leaving for the city of sin in a couple of hours. I’m sure there’s a hot piece of ass there that you could tap for the night to forget about her. Or for that matter, several hot pieces.” He shrugs and a slight, antagonizing smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Since all you’re doing is just fucking Rylee…because that is all you’re doing, right? Fucking her? There’s no commitment there to ruin. No voodoo pussy hex.”
I know he’s trying to push my buttons. Get a reaction one way or another as to where I stand when it comes to Ry. But for some reason I don’t take the bait. It’s gotta be the alcohol running through my veins. Instead, I shrug at him in agreement about finding someone else for the night, but for some reason I have no desire to. None. And why the fuck does that kind of comment— that I’m just fucking her —piss me off. This is Beckett I’m talking to. My best friend and brother for all intents and purposes—the man I discuss everything with, and I mean everything —so why does his off the cuff remark bug me?
It’s like she still has my balls in her grip.
Fuck me .
“She’s got a hot friend.”
Becks looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Come again? I’m not following you.”
“Well, we can swing by Rylee’s place on the way to the airport and the two of them can come with us.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process the thought.
Beckett chokes on his swallow of beer and starts coughing. The look on his face is one of complete shock. Apparently I did grow an extra head.
I ignore him and turn my concentration back to my beer’s label. Where the fuck did that come from? Taking Rylee to Vegas with me? The one place I can most likely forget about her for a while? The ultimate place to use pleasure to bury the pain . Taking a girl to Vegas with you is like taking a wife to your mistress’ house. That’s why I’ve never done it. Never even thought about it. Avoided it at all costs. Companions, dates, whatever they’re called, always stay home. They never even know I go. No exceptions. So why in the hell did I just suggest it? And more importantly, why the hell do I want her to go more than anything?
I must be outside of my fucking mind. Voodoo pussy .
Motherfucker.
“Holy shit…” Beckett says on a long drawn out drawl. “I never thought I’d see the day that Colton Fuckin’ Donavan would say that.” He whistles out a sigh, and then I swear I can hear something click in that head of his. “You’re barebacking , aren’t you?”
I can’t help my eyes from snapping up to his with the comment. Our universal guy speak for sticking with one woman. For thinking of more than just sex without strings. For fucking without a condom because you have complete trust in the other person.
For being pussy-whipped.
Neither of us have ever barebacked. Ever. Kind of a silent solidarity we have between us. Neither of us that is, until now.
“Motherfucker!” Becks jumps up in his seat. “You are,
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Becks.” I laugh. “Who says I did anything?”
He just gives me a look that says look who we’re talking about here . “ Well… ”
“Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutley nothing,” I bark out, tossing back my shot to help bury the fact that I’m lying to my best friend. “She’s just frustrating.”
“Like that’s a fucking news flash. We’re talking about a woman here, aren’t we?”
“I know. She’s just gotten under my skin and now she’s playing the hard to get card. That’s all.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair so I can meet Beckett’s stare.
“She told you no?” Becks coughs out in shock. “Like no, no? Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.” I catch Connie’s eye again for another round.
“Well shit, Wood. We are leaving for the city of sin in a couple of hours. I’m sure there’s a hot piece of ass there that you could tap for the night to forget about her. Or for that matter, several hot pieces.” He shrugs and a slight, antagonizing smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Since all you’re doing is just fucking Rylee…because that is all you’re doing, right? Fucking her? There’s no commitment there to ruin. No voodoo pussy hex.”
I know he’s trying to push my buttons. Get a reaction one way or another as to where I stand when it comes to Ry. But for some reason I don’t take the bait. It’s gotta be the alcohol running through my veins. Instead, I shrug at him in agreement about finding someone else for the night, but for some reason I have no desire to. None. And why the fuck does that kind of comment— that I’m just fucking her —piss me off. This is Beckett I’m talking to. My best friend and brother for all intents and purposes—the man I discuss everything with, and I mean everything —so why does his off the cuff remark bug me?
It’s like she still has my balls in her grip.
Fuck me .
“She’s got a hot friend.”
Becks looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Come again? I’m not following you.”
“Well, we can swing by Rylee’s place on the way to the airport and the two of them can come with us.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain can process the thought.
Beckett chokes on his swallow of beer and starts coughing. The look on his face is one of complete shock. Apparently I did grow an extra head.
I ignore him and turn my concentration back to my beer’s label. Where the fuck did that come from? Taking Rylee to Vegas with me? The one place I can most likely forget about her for a while? The ultimate place to use pleasure to bury the pain . Taking a girl to Vegas with you is like taking a wife to your mistress’ house. That’s why I’ve never done it. Never even thought about it. Avoided it at all costs. Companions, dates, whatever they’re called, always stay home. They never even know I go. No exceptions. So why in the hell did I just suggest it? And more importantly, why the hell do I want her to go more than anything?
I must be outside of my fucking mind. Voodoo pussy .
Motherfucker.
“Holy shit…” Beckett says on a long drawn out drawl. “I never thought I’d see the day that Colton Fuckin’ Donavan would say that.” He whistles out a sigh, and then I swear I can hear something click in that head of his. “You’re barebacking , aren’t you?”
I can’t help my eyes from snapping up to his with the comment. Our universal guy speak for sticking with one woman. For thinking of more than just sex without strings. For fucking without a condom because you have complete trust in the other person.
For being pussy-whipped.
Neither of us have ever barebacked. Ever. Kind of a silent solidarity we have between us. Neither of us that is, until now.
“Motherfucker!” Becks jumps up in his seat. “You are,
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