Jaded (Jaded #1)

“No.” Bryce smiled at me, a beautiful sight. He inched closer. “It was during lunch, but you kissed me because you wouldn’t let me go and play football with the rest of the guys. I wasn’t happy with you at all. Why would I kiss you if I wanted to play football?”


I noted, “You’re supposed to always say that you were the one who kissed me.

That’s what a gentleman does.”

Bryce laughed a full laugh and teased, “You admit that I’m right? You kissed me.”

I poked him in the arm. “You’re supposed to be a gentleman and say that you kissed me first.”

Bryce studied me and then said softly, “You’re right. I kissed you first.”

“I know. That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” I flashed him a blinding smile.

Then I remembered my mom’s call and the smile vanished.

Bryce lifted his head, cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. It was the softest kiss I’d ever gotten. I think my heart stopped and then it slammed back into me. And it didn’t take long before I straddled him. My towel was shoved off as Bryce lifted up, his mouth still fused with mine. I worked hungrily at his pants. When I managed to get the zipper down, Bryce lifted me up and kicked his pants down with his feet and legs.

When he would’ve rolled me over, I pushed down on his shoulders and tightened my thighs.

Bryce fell back and I slowly nipped at his mouth, his bottom lip, his chin. I slid my mouth down his neck and lingered over his chest.

He groaned, but held still for me. I needed to ravage him.

I inched backwards until my mouth lingered at his trim waist.

I swooped down and I grinned when I heard his sudden intake of breath. His legs convulsed and his back arched slightly.

He swore and I pressed on. Later, when I heard his gasp, I finished it off and licked my way back to his mouth.

Bryce groaned and flipped me over. With a condom already in hand, he sheathed himself and slammed inside.

This time, I was the one who collapsed against the pillow, wrapped my legs around him, and hung on.

It was hot, savage, and I melted as I curled onto my side.

Bryce padded barefoot into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he dressed, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Where are you going?” I asked, the bedcovers wrapped around my naked body.

“I’m going to run home and get some clothes. I’ll be back.”

“Take one of my keys. You can let yourself back in then.”

He pressed another kiss to my forehead and lips before he grabbed one of the sets and darted down the stairs.

I got up, showered, and dressed in a jogging suit. I wasn’t planning on jogging, but it looked cute and it was comfortable. Plus, I’d gotten a little drunk from the beer.

Sex with Bryce had helped, but it always helped no matter the circumstances.

Bryce had already placed all the empty bottles in the case, so I took it downstairs and placed it beside the other. The pizza was still left, untouched, on the stove. I wrapped it up and put it away in the fridge as leftovers.

And then I took a deep breath and took my cell phone onto the patio that extended off of my parents’ bedroom. As I curled on one of the patio loungers, I dialed my father’s phone number.

“Hello?” he asked, slightly confused. My father always seemed to be confused.

“Hey, dad,” I said quietly and wished I had grabbed a blanket.

“Oh, sweetie. How are you?” He even sounded cheerful.

“Mom called. She left a message.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, sweetie.” He didn’t sound it. He still sounded cheerful.

“What happened?”

“You don’t need to bother with those details. What’s important is that your mother and I are making the best choice for all parties.”

“Where’s Mom?”

“I think she may be in Paris, but who knows with your mother. She could be in Japan, for all I know.”

“Are you coming home?”

There was a slight pause before he said, unapologetically, “Oh dear. I’m sorry. I can’t bring myself to come home. The memories, you know, sweetie.”

Again. I didn’t know. I hadn’t even known there were problems.

“I haven’t heard from you in three months and the first I hear anything—it’s a voice message saying that you’re getting a divorce?”

“Oh honey. That’s not fair. You could’ve called too, you know. Communication is a two-way street.”

“In marriages,” I said, surprisingly unemotional. “Not when it comes to parents and their children. I haven’t seen you guys for five months.”

“We’ve been over this before. Your mother and I wished to spend time in Italy.

Your mother wanted to reconnect with her family roots—”

I couldn’t believe—I stared at the phone. I could still hear my father, but I slowly, ever so slowly, closed my phone.

My father’s voice was no longer and I was left without even a dial tone.